Odds favour Cape of good manners
THERE’S a small exotic island in Cape Town employing 1 200 people — one in four of them foreigners — and dealing in 13 languages.
It is located in a large, luminous room, an emporium of swivel chairs, jived by the jabber of languages — French, Italian, German and Greek.
The call centre allowed the Sunday Times access on condition that neither it nor its staff were identified. Its head of human resources explained: “With us one of the products is entertainment [gambling], which is sold in different markets. For us a market is a language. A customer is routed to a host according to the language he is speaking.”
One of Cape Town’s advantages for call centres is that operational costs are relatively low. “Sometimes, they ask us where we are,” said Stavros, a Greek staff member. “When we say Cape Town, they say: ‘Oh lovely, can you see lions?’ ”
Hans, a German who arrived in Cape Town in 2002, said: “It is a great job if you want to travel. I would earn more money in Europe but I like the lifestyle here.”
It is after midnight in Australia and it looks like the whole country is online, gambling.
Christo is mother-tongue Afrikaans and services Australia because he also speaks good English. He has long hair, an earring and brilliantly tattooed forearms.
His voice is soft and his insight acute as he manipulates up to a dozen people at a time, some on the chat line, some on the phone. He attacks the keyboard as if he is playing a Rachmaninoff piano concerto, and likes to slap in an emoji whenever possible.
The chat line lights up, with “Randy” saying: “I’m just not cracking the nut, I think I will chuck it in. Am I owed any bonus?”
Christo calls up his account, a map of his dealings over the past months. “I have already given him $200 [about R2 900] but I’d like to keep him in the game,” he said. “He’s a VIP and a highroller. I’m going to offer him another $100 and I’ll check that with his counsellor.”
Christo needs to both satisfy the customer and keep the casino happy. “At the end of the day, this is a profit-making business,” he said more than once.
The call centre agents are quick, multilingual and good at multitasking. “Internationally, people demand a high level of service and good, neutral-accented voices and many South Africans can provide that,” said Christo.
The screen lights up: “I am looking for hot games.”
Christo obliges, saying: “The thing is to keep them in the frame. He’s probably dead lonely in the outback with a load of sheep. We have this joke — God created man, woman and Australians.”
Drunks? “Yes we do get them, and we get abused. One guy threatened to smash my face in, but mostly everyone, even the losers, are very polite. Sometimes the women send a picture but the rule is no personal information given out, only first names used.”
Next to Christo sits Jack. He has red hair and looks like an army sergeant-major. He is strict, and has made an art form of courtesy.
“Yes sir, exactly, no madam, sir, may I suggest you try . . .”
He is swift and accommodating. “I do see that your current Friday daily deal offer is a 40% match up to 100. Let me review your account.”
He is like a specialist talking to an anxious and neurotic patient as he snaps through the accounts, moustache bristling.
“He has already had bonuses so I am afraid no can do,” Jack told me.
“Thank you so much for holding, sir. I have thoroughly reviewed your account. At this point I would not be able to provide you with a bonus. I do see we have matched your . . .” The caller slams the phone down.
Jack gives a brief laugh. It’s all in a day’s work — the questions are always the same and they are always about money.
People demand a high level of service and neutral accents and many South Africans provide that