I went back to the WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment - formerly WWF) for a second temp job. This time, they decided I should be the receptionist. This was not something I wanted to do - in fact I would rather shoot myself - but it was hard to turn down five days of steady work.
I really hate answering the phone. I also hate talking to people I don't know. At least while filing, I could ignore the outside world and be alone with my thoughts for eight hours. Not to mention, filing really masturbated the OCD part of my brain.
I sat down at the reception desk to find out I would be operating the switchboard for the entire company. Have I mentioned I'm bad with phones? At my former real job as a producer, I never once checked my voicemail. I barely know how to operate call waiting, let alone answer eight separate lines.
The minute I sat down, the phone rang. I picked it up. Someone with a distinctly southern accent was shouting in the phone. "Yeah, can I speak to Vince McMahon?" I looked to the girl who was training me. She explained, Vince McMahon is the C.E.O. of the company. He's also sort of a celebrity. While still on that call, another line lit up. "World Wrestling Entertainment" I squeaked out. "Can I talk to The Big Red Monster?" It was a twelve-year old kid. I put him on hold. The girl training me said, "We get a lot of crazies calling here. A lot of fans... Just do your best and talk to them. If they want to speak to Vince or one of the wrestlers, transfer them to fan services." The phone rang again. This time it was an eldery lady. "Can I speak to Sexual Chocolate please?" "Don't hang up," the girl mouthed to me. I transferred her to fan services.
After an hour, the girl training me said she had to go. Before she left, she warned me, "Whatever you do, don't transfer anyone to Vince McMahon. Anyone that needs Vince already has his number." "Got it," I said. All morning long, I got calls from little boys and rednecks. I only got a handful of calls from business people looking for executives. I couldn't help but wonder why the WWE takes fan calls on their main office switchboard. It seemed like a waste of resources. Some of these fans were persistent:
Redneck: Can I speak to Vince?
Me: I can take a message for you
Redneck: Sure. Uh... tell him that my name is Jeremy. I won a free rafting trip for two and i'd like to take him as my special guest.
Me: Mmmhmm. Got it
He left his number. Then, twenty minutes later he called back.
Redneck: Can I speak to Vince?
Me: Oh hi - we talked earlier?
Redneck: Yeah, I want to know if he got my message yet. Does he want to be my special guest on my uh rafting trip?
I transferred him to the fan hotline. He called back. It was like this all afternoon. Then I got this call:
Man: Can I speak to Vince McMahon?
Me: I can't transfer you, but I can take a message.
Man: Tell him I'm Ric Flair. I need to talk to him ASAP.
Me: I can transfer you to a special voicemail box.
I transferred him to fan services and googled Ric Flair - yup, it seemed this guy was impersonating a wrestler. He called back instantly.
Man: Hi, this is Ric Flair. I really need to talk to Vince.
He sounded somewhat sane, so I reasoned with him.
Me: Look, Sir - I can't transfer you to Vince. If you were really Ric Flair, you would have his number.
He kept arguing with me. I had to cut him off and transfer him back to fan services. THEN, I got a message from Vince McMahon's office. Apparently Ric was on his way to the building, and I had dissed the WWE's most famous wrestler. Half an hour later, he walked in the door, carrying a bouquet of yellow roses for the McMahons.
On Day 2, I managed to diss another wrestler. A big burly black man walked up to me and said, "I'm Mark Henry. I'm here for Vince." I asked him to spell his name. "Mark Henry," he repeated. I stared at him with a blank look. "Sexual Chocolate," he said forcefully. "Man, don't you know anything?" he said, looking at me with disgust. I actually HAD heard of Sexual Chocolate. He should have just started off with that.
On Day 3, a huge guy walked through the door wearing various gold chains, blinged out to the nines. He said, "Hi I need to speak to Vince. I'm Junkyard Dog's son." I gave him the royal treatment and told him to have a seat. I quickly googled Junkyard Dog. Apparently, he's a famous dead wrestler. I called up Vince's office with a message about my guest. They had never heard of Junkyard Dog's son. I kicked him out. This guy was an impostor.
I really hate answering the phone. I also hate talking to people I don't know. At least while filing, I could ignore the outside world and be alone with my thoughts for eight hours. Not to mention, filing really masturbated the OCD part of my brain.
I sat down at the reception desk to find out I would be operating the switchboard for the entire company. Have I mentioned I'm bad with phones? At my former real job as a producer, I never once checked my voicemail. I barely know how to operate call waiting, let alone answer eight separate lines.
The minute I sat down, the phone rang. I picked it up. Someone with a distinctly southern accent was shouting in the phone. "Yeah, can I speak to Vince McMahon?" I looked to the girl who was training me. She explained, Vince McMahon is the C.E.O. of the company. He's also sort of a celebrity. While still on that call, another line lit up. "World Wrestling Entertainment" I squeaked out. "Can I talk to The Big Red Monster?" It was a twelve-year old kid. I put him on hold. The girl training me said, "We get a lot of crazies calling here. A lot of fans... Just do your best and talk to them. If they want to speak to Vince or one of the wrestlers, transfer them to fan services." The phone rang again. This time it was an eldery lady. "Can I speak to Sexual Chocolate please?" "Don't hang up," the girl mouthed to me. I transferred her to fan services.
After an hour, the girl training me said she had to go. Before she left, she warned me, "Whatever you do, don't transfer anyone to Vince McMahon. Anyone that needs Vince already has his number." "Got it," I said. All morning long, I got calls from little boys and rednecks. I only got a handful of calls from business people looking for executives. I couldn't help but wonder why the WWE takes fan calls on their main office switchboard. It seemed like a waste of resources. Some of these fans were persistent:
Redneck: Can I speak to Vince?
Me: I can take a message for you
Redneck: Sure. Uh... tell him that my name is Jeremy. I won a free rafting trip for two and i'd like to take him as my special guest.
Me: Mmmhmm. Got it
He left his number. Then, twenty minutes later he called back.
Redneck: Can I speak to Vince?
Me: Oh hi - we talked earlier?
Redneck: Yeah, I want to know if he got my message yet. Does he want to be my special guest on my uh rafting trip?
I transferred him to the fan hotline. He called back. It was like this all afternoon. Then I got this call:
Man: Can I speak to Vince McMahon?
Me: I can't transfer you, but I can take a message.
Man: Tell him I'm Ric Flair. I need to talk to him ASAP.
Me: I can transfer you to a special voicemail box.
I transferred him to fan services and googled Ric Flair - yup, it seemed this guy was impersonating a wrestler. He called back instantly.
Man: Hi, this is Ric Flair. I really need to talk to Vince.
He sounded somewhat sane, so I reasoned with him.
Me: Look, Sir - I can't transfer you to Vince. If you were really Ric Flair, you would have his number.
He kept arguing with me. I had to cut him off and transfer him back to fan services. THEN, I got a message from Vince McMahon's office. Apparently Ric was on his way to the building, and I had dissed the WWE's most famous wrestler. Half an hour later, he walked in the door, carrying a bouquet of yellow roses for the McMahons.
On Day 2, I managed to diss another wrestler. A big burly black man walked up to me and said, "I'm Mark Henry. I'm here for Vince." I asked him to spell his name. "Mark Henry," he repeated. I stared at him with a blank look. "Sexual Chocolate," he said forcefully. "Man, don't you know anything?" he said, looking at me with disgust. I actually HAD heard of Sexual Chocolate. He should have just started off with that.
On Day 3, a huge guy walked through the door wearing various gold chains, blinged out to the nines. He said, "Hi I need to speak to Vince. I'm Junkyard Dog's son." I gave him the royal treatment and told him to have a seat. I quickly googled Junkyard Dog. Apparently, he's a famous dead wrestler. I called up Vince's office with a message about my guest. They had never heard of Junkyard Dog's son. I kicked him out. This guy was an impostor.
10 comments:
Hilarious!
hope this report isn't creating too much tension at work...
this is great!
thanks guys! i didn't realize people were so into ric flair. i'd never heard of him.
this is awesome, thank you for sharing it with me! You are great, and a great and funny writer. :)
Very funny story!
Being a huge wrestling fan, I had to supress a few chuckles as I "watched" you struggle with some of the more popular names in the sport.
The Ric Flair Showcase is on Squidoo here: http://www.squidoo.com/Ric_Flair_showcase
Absolutely hysterical! Well done! A+++
I think there should be an open blog for any WWE employees (past or present, non-wrestlers/actors) to post their experiences. I have a feeling there are many more stories untold.
great story! hehehe
sexual chocolate
That's so funny! I'm so calling up WWE and asking to speak to Vince.
;)
That's a pretty funny story, thanks for checking out our blog. I'm sorry it took me so long to reply. Good luck in your adventure.
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