I started my new job on Friday! It was really fun — I think I will really like working there. I’m working in sales at an Internet company here in Indy, so basically, I sit in a cubicle all day, answer phone calls and make sales. My coworkers seem cool, and the company seems fun — lots of perks.
On Friday, I spent the day listening in on calls with Hillary, the girl who was training me. On a particular customer service call, the man on the other end indicated he was calling for information about a dermatologist in his city.
“What is your zip code?” my trainer asked him. He told her. “And your email address?”
“Blah_blah@myspace.com,” he answered.
“All right, just one moment while I look up this information for you,” Hillary said.
Upon her entering his information, his profile history popped up. We saw that he had joined the Web site less than a month before, when he called looking for a family practice doctor.
“OK, sir,” Hillary said. “I have a list of a few dermatologists. While you’re getting a pen and paper ready, may I ask why you’re calling today?”
“I think I have an STD,” he said.
“WHAT?!” I whispered to Hillary.
“Well, OK sir,” she said, trying not to laugh. “Here are some doctors for you to try.”
As she rattled off the list, she opened up MySpace in another browser. She typed in his email address, and his profile came up.
There he was. Posed, shirtless, on top of a washing machine. A girl named “Lola” wearing a leather bra and underwear wallpapered as the profile’s background. “I’m too sexy for my shirt,” his profile said. “Holla atcha boy.”
Um, I don’t think so.