Dial Disconnect

The odds are high that simultaneously, they’re also looking for a way out, a better opportunity, just like Diana. ‘‘I’m here because of just two things,’’ she says. ‘‘Good money is one. I’m also looking to complete my higher studies. The moment that happens, I’m out of here.’’

Two years after business process outsourcing-IT-enabled services (BPO/ITES) was hailed as the sunrise industry of the millennium, the hard truth is finally dawning on the cogs who keep the wheels moving. Smart starting salaries, spiffy workplaces, a co-ed atmosphere and employer-sponsored pizzas are up against bleary eyes, rising stress levels and Daliesque body clocks. And as the 40 per cent annual attrition rate indicates, the lives in the balance are increasingly opting out.

‘‘Your health just goes for a toss. Apart from skin and hair problems, one suffers from stomach ailments, lowered immunity and weight loss,’’ says Mumbai’s Ameeta Sequeira, who quit E-Funds and Transworks to work in public relations. ‘‘You can’t make up for a night’s sleeplessness even if you sleep the whole day.’’

“It depends on resilience. Most people can’t take it,” says Shamika Dhairyawan, 22, who was among the majority, and is back to academics. Everyone in the trade knows someone who’s cracked under the pressure. ‘‘Some of my friends left respected companies because they couldn’t handle the continuous night shifts,’’ says Anita Basnett, who works for an international call centre in Gurgaon. ‘‘They felt ill and lethargic during the day. One had asthma and this topsy-turvy routine merely aggravated it.’’ Since the job requires a certain alertness through the night—working hours for the American or British consumer whose calls they handle—executives develop a dependence on coffee and cigarettes to survive the graveyard shift. The complete disconnect from outside reality also promotes feelings of isolation and alienation, as happened with Nitin Bhargava, 26, and an MBA from a Delhi institute. Six months into the job, he transformed from a sociable, confident man into a frustrated introvert in need of psychiatric help.

Call centres, though, are quick to dismiss the health gripe. ‘‘We haven’t come across any forms of extreme stress. The problems are usually personal, unrelated to work,’’ says Shankar S Bora, senior manager, marketing, Global Tele, Mumbai. Echoes Zia Sheikh, CEO of the Mumbai-based call centre Infowavz, ‘‘There are problems initially, but people adapt quickly. We help them deal with stress by focusing on a casual, community-driven environment.’’

Some industry seniors prefer to counter the argument with figures. Says an in-house psychologist at a Mumbai call centre, ‘‘We can’t deny there is stress (in this field). But the industry is booming, trends indicate eight lakh jobs by 2008.’’

That, coupled with the $2.3 billion earned by the BPO-ITES last year, would be enough to shut up a government intent on globalisation. But health professionals notice a clear rise in young people seeking counselling for stress, depression and a host of related psychological and physiological problems.

‘‘I get two to three cases of call centre burnout every week,’’ says Dr Jitendra Nagpal, consultant psychiatrist at Vidyasagar Institute of Mental Health and Neurosciences (VIMHANS) in New Delhi. The most common complaints are chronic fatigue, ulcers, digestive problems, insomnia and a feeling of growing anxiety.

The root of the problem lies in what psychiatrists call the shift maladaptation syndrome. ‘‘There’s a sleep-awake pattern that follows the day and night pattern. Certain hormonal secretions, too, follow this cycle. The best example of what happens when the pattern is violated is jet lag,’’ says Dr Samir Parikh, consultant counsellor at Delhi’s Max Health Care. So what would happen if the pattern is violated for months on end? ‘‘A constant feeling of irritability and rocky interpersonal relations.’’

But night shifts, odd hours and stress are part of many professions. However, with call centre staff, says Dr Nagpal, the average age, early 20s, works against them. ‘‘They handle pressures they are not equipped to.’’

Some of that pressure has to do with money. ‘‘Nearly everybody I work with is just out of college and can’t handle the money they get, often upwards of Rs 8,000. So there’s indiscriminate boozing and partying and multiple physical and emotional relationships. After all, our co-workers are the only people we get to meet,’’ says Diana, who, at 26, has seen youngsters succumb to the pattern time and again.

Priti, 19, and Keval Khanna, 21, therefore, were merely doing the done thing when they met—they work for neighbouring call centres—fell in love and decided to get married despite family opposition. A few months later, though, the strains have begun to show, so much so that Keval has sought help from a psychiatrist to deal with his increasing irritability.

Health professionals have little doubt that with their strictures on accent, attitude and awareness, call centres are pushing youngsters towards the edge. Though the initial emphasis on changing names (from, say, Sunanda to Susan) and mugging American football results has largely worn off, many executives are trained in accent neutralisation. ‘‘We were trained to roll our R’s and the like. So for the US, ‘international’ would become ‘innernational’. Some find this very awkward,’’ says Cherry Fernandes, who quit her call centre job in Mumbai after three months.

To the barrage of charges, the call centre industry responds with one voice. They are bringing in the forex, generating employment and taking good care of their staff. Says Aashu Calapa, vice-president, human resources, at ICICI One Source, Bangalore, ‘‘Most training sessions take place at night to help executives adjust to the working hours. And accent training just helps them better their pronunciation.’’ Seconds Prakash Desai, vice-president, learning and development, Global Tele, “We have voice and breathing exercises that aid communication. And we have counsellors on call. Moreover, people who handle the pressure acquire great confidence.’’

A valid point that nobody, including those who’ve quit their jobs, disputes. Call centres, they say, are great grooming grounds: Stick around, pick up the skills, and get out while the going is good. As far as the compromises go, the jury’s still out on whether they are worth it.

Meanwhile, as you fold up this paper and head for your Sunday brunch, Diana is on her way back home. Along with the other half of the world, she’s looking forward to some shut-eye time. And Sunday when she wakes up.

MAKING MOVIES
THE bar girl phenomenon was about two decades old before Bollywood finally woke up to it, and made Chandni Bar. The call centre boom, though, has caught them wide awake. While Dev Benegal (Split Wide Open, English, August) is planning a film called

Bombay, California on the subject, documentary filmmakers Jaideep Punjabi and Shalini Kantaya, both 26, will release a 60-minute film, Connected, in October.

‘‘We looked at how a call centre impacts the identity and empowers the women who work there,’’ says Punjabi, who followed three call centre women staffers from the workplace to their homes, capturing their interactions with colleagues, parents, extended family and society at large.

The protagonists have distinct personalities and are from diverse backgrounds: one is an independent thinker who dreams of opening a coffee shop in Amsterdam; another aspires to be an actress; the third, who has a PhD, is a call centre trainer. ‘‘We looked at perceptions of women, their interactions with male colleagues, development of their speech and confidence and how it influenced the way they dealt with their families and domestic issues,’’ says Punjabi, who grew up in Singapore and studied in the US before moving to India last year to work on the film. _Che Kurrien