Having to make calls in an open-plan office

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Michael

As part of our End the Phone Call Nightmares campaign, Mike Miller describes how it felt when he realised he'd have to make calls in front of everyone in his new job.

It was the perfect storm. 

The interview had gone well, and I felt relaxed and remained fluent. I knew that I could avoid difficult words — a bit like when a river deviates from its path if blocked by a fallen tree. 

I got the job and this was my first day at the office. I was nervous — as I had a covert stammer, people had no idea how the fear rose within me when I had no other option but to speak. Especially when I couldn't embellish my message in non-verbal ways. 

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I was escorted to my new desk. My stomach sank when I saw it was an open-plan office with eight people looking at their computer screens and exchanging banter. Most were friendly and welcomed me to the firm. But I felt physically sick. I had been expecting a room of my own.

I had to call my first client. I felt my hands get sweaty as I picked up the phone. The anxiety rose within me as I waited for them to answer. "Hello, this is ……………"  I blocked. "Who is this please ?" said the voice at the other end. I tried again: "Hello, this is ………" I could not say the name of the company I was now working for. A colleague to my left glanced at me, quizzically. The fear within me was ratcheting up. The phone line went dead. Hardly a good first impression. 

I sensed the chatter in the room quieten and my throat tighten. I felt like I was on a stage and the spotlight was focused on me.

Later, my boss asked, "Could you phone the tax office? They've got Mr Sheppard's tax code wrong. Would you ask them to amend it, please". 

Mr Sheppard. An 'S' sound. I looked at the national insurance (NI) number that I would have to read out — it had a seven in it. 'S' sounds to me were like bamboo traps. My mouth was dry — I wanted to run. As I punched the number into the phone, I sensed the chatter in the room quieten and my throat tighten. I felt like I was on a stage and the spotlight was focused on me; everyone waiting for the fractured soliloquy they were about to witness. 

After what seemed like an age, someone answered, which startled me. They went through the normal security questions and I managed OK, until they asked for the name of the client and his NI number. I took a deep breath and stammered: "Mr Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhheppard, NI number RTS4seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeven". The person on the other end interrupted: "I think there’'s some interference on the line. Can you say that again, please?" I felt the beads of sweat forming on my brow. This often happened. That and people laughing when I blocked on my name or date of birth, and saying, "Have you forgotten?!" I felt hollowed out by the experience. 

Then I heard it: a snigger from the front of the room. It was like someone had stuck a dagger in me.

Not having to pretend anymore

I spent the next few hours until 5pm doing anything to avoid the telephone, until the chap to my left said, "Are you coming down the pub? It's a tradition here when someone starts". I was relieved and accepted the invitation. The fact that I had stammered openly seemed to ease my tension — it meant I didn't have to pretend I was a fluent speaker. I realised it was probably as unexpected for my colleagues as it was painful for me. The snigger could have been the person venting the awkwardness that had built up in the room. 

People were normal with me at the pub and I was more fluent as we chatted about last night's football, etc. I still struggled on the telephone after that, but some calls were better than others.

It wasn't the job for me, though, and a few weeks later I left the company. Well, actually my employment was terminated. On my last day, as I was clearing up my remaining stuff, I overheard the room manager say to a colleague, "Hopefully next time they will employ someone who can actually speak". I heard his colleague reply, "Shush". He clearly did not know that I was still in the room.

I packed up the last of my things and left.

Have you had a negative experience on the phone recently? Email editor@stamma.org and share your voice — it'll help us to get the message across to companies. 

If you're an organisation and would like to create a more inclusive environment, come to one of our free online phone call workshops.