Tweet
Bloody hell, it must have been a full moon last night. ><
We have a couple new accounts at work that are UK only. So now I have to add a 3rd country's idiots to my list of resentment.
I had a new psycho on Hot Tips for America tonight but there's no way I can post it without revealing whom I work for. Then I'd have to kill you. Er...well as many of you as I could find anyway.
But First, a Cat Update
The….creature….that I share my abode with and has undoubtedly been foolishly summoned to this plane from some dark circle of the underworld only to be dropped off at the SPCA…has developed a new quirk this week. My cat love’s the taste of Neosporin. This means that if given half a chance she will lick the antibiotics right off of you. But the only reason I would be applying Neosporin is because she has wounded me.
Which means my cat is slowly learning that if it can bleed me it gets a treat.
From Across the Pond
I have a hot tip for you fresh off the presses, you nattering old she bat: If you’re going to bad mouth me to your friend in the background you might want to hold the phone a bit further away so that I can’t overhear every word of it. Because it won’t exactly indenture me to your service any further. While you may not notice any perceptible change in my usual pleasantly delightful tone of operator voice, I can assure you that my mental mood has become one of dark, dark tidings. You can consider yourself quite fortunate that I am not some insidious dark templar or cunning witch doctor and thus do not possess any form of hex, curse or other such incantation with which to malign you and form peculiar smelling cysts on your ancient, withered nether regions. But alas, I am a simple CSR
So, lacking any dark magical powers, I shall merely sit here in my little seat with my little bottle of Coke Zero and hate you impotently from afar. Mine is a sad life.
867
If you did not hear me clearly or wish me to repeat what I have just said please try a term such as “Pardon?”, “Excuse me?” or “Could you repeat that please?”. Your current choice of “WHAT?@$?!%” as if I had just admitted to spending the last half hour out back spanking your teenage daughter with the family dog while yelling “BOW BEFORE THE MIGHT OF SPAIN!”. Which, of course, I did not. Far as I remember anyway. I’m pretty sure I would recall something like that had it transpired and really, Spain? I’m not going to spank anyone on behalf of Spain. Austria, maybe. I’d tan girl hide for Austria.
Oh Just Fark Off
( This is the emergency line for a certain chain of gas stations. Its for the station's use only but this dumbass must have persisted through the switchboard menus to me anyway. )
Did you seriously just call me, on the afterhours emergency maintenance line, to complain about the price of gas? Wow. I don’t think I can even accurately portray to you how little I care about you and your whining. You’re also grossly mistaken if you think I, the on call maintenance crew or <company> have absolutely any control over the current price of oil. My protests that I could do little to assist you were met with a response that basically amounted to “I don’t care, I’m an irrational jackass and just want to yell at someone because it’s too expensive to drive the SUV which I use to artificially inflate the size of my man bits. Behold my rage for my penis is tiny, flaccid and has not achieved sufficient structural density to satisfy my wife and / or sister in 6 years.”
You also seem to be under the impression that I am “in the know” of some sort of massive conspiracy to raise gas prices. You’re basing this on the fact that the price of oil dropped by a dime a barrel this week and <company> has not yet lowered the price at the pump to reflect the potentially massive savings this could entail. I claim no expertise in economics but I’m pretty sure the whole supply & demand structure of the oil industry is more complex than that.
867
SC: “Yeah, I wanna order 4 hats!”
Ah, yes. Well, spank me with a dog and demand my subservience to the Spanish but I didn’t see that coming. It was a total surprise. Really. Look, I have goose bumps.
Biff: The Man, The Legend
Tonight I had to endure the rambling stories of some butthole on the bus that was talking to the driver ( Whom has my pity. ). Having little better to do and sensing something I could ridicule this man for at a later date to friends and family, I listened intently to his tales.
It seems this man, whom I shall call Biff. Not for any particular reason, mind you. Just because he seemed like a Biff. Anyway, Biff, over his 50 years, has engaged in epic struggles onboard public transit. In defense of bus drivers to be exact. Biff had clocked an actual number. 16. 16 bus driver’s lives he had dramatically saved from drunks, druggies and hobos. But what did he get for it? Nothing! Biff as rather put off that he didn’t at least get a free transit pass for life or something for saving the lives of so many bus drivers. While surely he must be at the top of the Coast Mountain bus driver lifesaving scoreboard by now and nothing. Not a thing. Not even some gummy bears or a Slim Jim.
But alas, this unsung hero shall forever go unrewarded. Not that it will stop him. He shall continue his quest. Kind of like grossly out of shape, somewhat intoxicated version of Caine from Kung Fu. Wandering from bus to bus, solving people’s problems and becoming easily winded.
867
Me: “and your name please?”
SC: “….um…..”
Me: “……”
SC: “…Pamela.”
Me: “Ok, and your last name please?”
SC: “<insert noise like an otter being choking with a sock>”
Me: “and how do you spell that, please?”
SC: “Uh…..P-a-m-e-“
Me: “No, how do you spell your last name please?”
SC: “Ummm….I-“
Considering how much difficult you’re having with the first level of our little game I’m not holding out much hope for the rest of this call. You’ve literally just pressed start, held down forward and blundered straight into the first Goomba in World 1-1.
Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
SC: “Uh…..xxxx-xx”
Me: “Alright, what size would you like?”
SC: “Um…..women’s hooded jacket.”
Me: “Yes, but what size would you like it in?”
SC: “um….xxxx-xx”
Me: “…..ok, but what size would you like it in?”
Press A to jump, you fool. A TO JUMP.
Um...right
Caller called to complain that we’ve been running the same commercial for almost a year. He demands a new commercial. He did note that the people in the commercial are bordering on ancient, are wearing cloths and the women have nice embroidery on their bath robes. In fact he seemed quite interested in the…details….of the physical forms of the actors in the commercial. He has labeled our lack of variation in our geriatric fan service as “monotonous” and has become bored. He demands we find new half naked seniors to parade around in front of him in skimpy bath robes. We must satiate his lust for archaic ta-tas and wudjibbles. I’m not entirely familiar with wudjibbles, so I can’t explain precisely what they are. But I assume they’re something that should normally be kept covered in public.
( On a side note if you somehow manage to figure out what commercial this is from this vague description and call me at 3am I will harm you. -.- )
Congrats?
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “I HAVE A KITCHEN.”
Really? Me too! That’s amazing! Why, it’s almost seems like there’s one in practically every home in the country! Please try to swallow a golf ball!
Directions
Me: “Ok, and what’s your address please?”
SC: “Oh, I live just a ways out of town around the cabin area just around the hill.”
Really? How many paces is it from town to the cabin? Is there any landmarks I need to make note of? What about alligators or palm trees? Come on, spit it out. I need to finish my treasure map, stuff it in a bottle, hurdle it off the Seabus and hope it washes up somewhere close to our client's office.
867
Me: “and your phone number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “….your entire phone number please?”
SC: “Oh, uh, xxx-xxx-xxxx”
Ah yes, I forgot. I need to be very specific when making queries of you folk. You’re like the living, breathing, ass scratching personification of the chaos theory. No matter how much control I exert or how predetermined the course of the call may be, you can and will discover some method of screwing it all up through no direct effort of your own. Your mere presence is enough to derail even the most basic, straight forward, could easily teach to a 6 year to do it process. You have a sort of passive idiot aura that affects all those around you and you’ve been steadily pouring skill points into it every level to increase its range and effect. I can only fear what will happen when you get to the high levels and start collecting some good +Fucktard and +Slackwit gear to boost your base abilities.
On am ironic side note, we actually sell a rather wide selection of the gear in question. So we're actually making them stronger.
Friday Night
Ah, Friday nights on Granville street….
First up, the fidgeting, nervous guy with the bouquet of flowers standing at Granville station clearly waiting for what must be his first date. I can appreciate the effort you have attempted to put into this. However there’s a few key flaws I’d like to point out. Number one, you’re dressed like a waiter. If you’re about to take someone out to dinner it may be best if you don’t look like you work at the restaurant. Number two, you have obviously created a bouquet using random colours of roses you thought would look pretty rather than paying attention to what the various colours mean. Because far as I can tell that arrangement means “I’m sorry you have me as a friend, MARRY ME.”.
Second up, Ramon. The new clerk at 7/11. Ramon is a squat, all around average possibly Indonesian guy with a buzz cut and a goatee. Except for the fact he’s wearing the most stunning pair of diamond earrings I’ve ever seen. Well, that and he almost managed to charge my stuff to the debit card of the girl in front of me. That was pretty impressive too.
Third up, bike twit. I didn’t actually get to see most of bike twit. I just heard him go by going “Look! No hands! No hands! No hands! OH SHI-“. At that point he came to a sudden stop. Sadly, I missed the exact moment of his glory. I only got to see ( and enjoy ) his suffering afterwards. I laughed. Because he really did get out an "OH SHI-".
867
Tonight I discovered we sell backpack beer coolers. Backpack beer coolers. These people are bad enough without us…enabling them. We’re almost one stop shopping for them now. Hats, pants and a beer cooler. Throw in a 12 pack of Coors and 6 lbs of bacon and you got yourself a Nunavut Christmas.
867
Me: “and would you like that shipped regular or express?”
SC: “Uh..which one’s faster?”
Me: “.....that would be express.”
Your response physically hurt my mind, you know. In order to come up with that response you’d have to be completely oblivious to the meaning of both words. Not just “express”. I mean, if you know what “regular” meant then logically “express” would be the faster option right? Unless you seriously think we regularly offer 2 week shipping but we do offer special 4 week shipping for an extra $6.50. So I must conclude that neither word is in your vocabulary. I assume this is because either they contain too many syllables and/or are not commonly used on Spongebob Squarepants.
Meh. I Hate Accounts That Make Me Do This
Caller: “I’m the one calling for info and you’re asking more questions the I am!!”
Yes, I am fervently data mining your personal life. Searching for a weakness. Any weakness. A phone number, An address, an email address. Something, anything. Once we’ve obtained it, your existence belongs to us. Telemarketing calls, junk mail, email spam promising you great mortgage rates, free smiley’s and inches upon inches to the length of your peni-….er….nevermind.
Too Much Time
( This is a medical lab )
Every other day <employee of client> calls in to let me know she’s in the building and I can reach her at extension such and such if I need her. Despite the fact we have never once, ever, ever had to call her for anything. Yet she persists in giving us these updates. They come across more as desperately lonely pleas for love rather than convenient status updates. Why is she even in the office at 4:30am? She’s not on call. So what exactly is going on in there? I of course have come up with a couple of theories, because I have a lot of time on my hands:
1) Her office computer is much more powerful than her home computer. So 4:30am is the perfect time to slink into the office and pwn some nubs on Call of Duty 4 before everyone else gets in.
2) She’s crying alone into a 2 litre of Chunky Monkey Hagen Daas. Desperately hoping one of us will call her for something.
3) She has a Bowflex in her office and requires just 20 minutes a day to stay in shape.
4) She’s having a torrid affair with the office fax machine and this is the only time they can be alone.
5) She’s having a torrid affair with her home fax machine and accidentally rubbed up against the speed dial for the office, thus faxing evidence of their passion to her work place. She has come to destroy the evidence and slay the only witness, the office fax machine.
6) She’s licking all the test samples.
7) There’s an abundance of prescription medication on site and Mommy needs her happy time.
8) She doesn’t have a computer at home so she has to come to work early to check her MySpace.
9) Erotic. Harry. Potter. Yaoi. Fanfiction.
10) I want to go home. <whimper>
From Across the Pond #2
Me: “Are you calling to register for the sweepstakes?”
SC: “What?! I got this letter that told me to call. So I called. What’s going on?”
Me: “This is a registration line for a sweepstakes. Would you like to register?”
SC: “What?! I don’t know! The letter told me to call. So I called. I don’t know what this is!”
Now repeat this exchange almost word for word about 6 or 7 times. See, basically, he got the sweepstakes letter. The letter told him to call. He took this as an order. An unbreakable commandment. A geas if you will. So he called. But that was really as far ahead as he thought. He didn’t know why he was calling or what he was calling for. Just that the letter had commanded him to call and he did not have the strength of will to resist the compulsion of his newfound paper overlord. I’m sure even now, as I speak, he’s down on his hands and knees….servicing...his new master.
Lick the stamp, peon. LICK IT.
Granville Street Redux
Attention Granville Busker: I appreciate the amount of effort you’ve put into this. You even have a tiny little stand with your music sheets up in front of you. But it doesn’t change the fact you can not play the saxophone and a badly played saxophone is just below the violin on the big list of instruments that sounds like a mortally wounded animal being slowly pulled into a large piece of industrial equipment. Please stop. Get the Hell off the street and make sure you make past at least page 6 in your Fisherprice; My First Instrument lesson book before you return.
Also, to the girl sitting on the filthy floor in front of Tim Horton’s at Granville station for no apparent reason. I am not a fashion expert. But I have watched several episodes of TLC’s What Not To Wear so I can say, with the utmost confidence, that you should not be wearing metallic gold tights and a mini skirt unless you belong to a circus. From San Francisco. For the vision impaired.
Hot Tips for America
SC: “Yeah, have you ever read the Book of Revelations?”
Me: “……”
SC: “Well I figured it out. See it says Prince Charles is the anti-christ a-“
Ok, just stop right there. Look, I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t think this is going to work out between us. It’s always the same thing with you over and over. “Prince Charles is the dark lord” this and ”Prince Charles touches little boys” that. I’m just really tired of it. I think we both need to start seeing other calls.
Yankee 911
According to someone by the code name “Old Soldier”, someone is dropping off too many cigarettes in Abbotsford at the docks. Because of that people are dying left and right. The power’s been cut, the phone lines are down and the air raid sirens went quiet half an hour ago. Now it’s deathly quiet. Everyone’s dead and he can’t get a hold of Ottawa to warn them. This is the only number he was able to get through too and he only has a working phone because he has a backup generator.
He was quite upset with me once it became apparent I didn’t give a rat’s flaming ass hair over an open Texas style grill about the “situation”.
Of course there’s a very very very very small chance that Abbotsford really has been bombed into the ground or otherwise attacked somehow and I’ve just delayed the response times of the national guard and emergency services which could result in the deaths of hundreds. But I’m not about to let hundreds of lives hanging in the balance stop me from making fun of somebody.
Yankee 911...er....2
( This guy's girlfriend lost her passport. So instead of hitting 1 for passport info he hit 4 for "I've been arrested for a federal offense and/or critically injured abroad in Canada" to come through to me. I of course can do nothing. )
SC: “Ok, well, thanks for all your help. THAT YOU DIDN’T GIVE US.”
On behalf of someone who’s not even an American citizen, you’re very welcome. If there’s anything else I have absolutely no power or inclination to assist you with feel free to call back. Alternatively, please feel free to drop to the floor of your current location and kick and scream until Mommy gets fed up and takes you back out to the car.
Oh, and just for the record “Stolen” means her purse was physical taken. “Forgot it in the bathroom at the restaurant 4 hours ago and just noticed now and the restaurant's closed” just means she's an idiot.
Difficulties
Me: “and by what credit card?”
SC: “That’ll be by Visa.”
Me: “Ok, and what’s the card number please?”
SC: “….that’ll be a bit of a challenge.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this shift its that many, many things are for some of you people. Regardless of how basic or mundane the task might be. But, not all is despair. Be proud, my furry little friend, for you were at least able to jump the “What’s your name?” hurdle. You’d be surprised how many callers can’t even make it over that one. You won’t win any medals, granted. But at the very least you’ll get one of those certificate of participation things that they hand out as a token gesture to prevent damage to your fragile self esteem.
867!
Me: “Good evening, <comp-“
SC: “HOW COME PLACE COD ORDER?!?”
Jesus Bisquick Christ! Don’t hurt me! What do you want?! Pants?! I have pants. I can give you pants. Just, whatever you want. I can get you pants. Lots of pants. Hats too. Please don’t kill me.
867
Wow, ok, this call was the pretty much the apex of all that is Nunavut in a single call. There were actually 3 people involved in the call not including the 2 kids screaming bloody murder in the background. First off was the Negotiator. She had been voted to actually speak with me and convey the wishes of the group. The only problem is the other two didn’t actually tell her any of the relevant information she’d need like what they want, what size they want it in, what colour, etc.
So throughout the entire call there’s an annoying female whom I shall call MINE! GIMME! on one side that keeps interrupting with whatever it is she wants. Then on the other side is a half drunken Apeman of some sort that isn’t volunteering any information. So the Negotiator keeps having to scream every one of my questions at the Apeman who becomes enraged and barks his answers back in some sort of guttural language known only in Mordor. While the entire time MINE! GIMME! keeps interrupting to make her demands. So the Negotiator is getting increasingly angered with the Apeman, who is becoming more enraged the more he’s forced to attempt to speak and all the while the two kids are shrieking at the top of their lines and MINE! GIMME! is shrilly rattling off her Christmas wish list.
It was my personal little glimpse into the redneck yeti Hell that is our barren northern reaches and I fear I shall never be the same again after what I have seen.
<sob>
We have a couple new accounts at work that are UK only. So now I have to add a 3rd country's idiots to my list of resentment.
I had a new psycho on Hot Tips for America tonight but there's no way I can post it without revealing whom I work for. Then I'd have to kill you. Er...well as many of you as I could find anyway.
But First, a Cat Update
The….creature….that I share my abode with and has undoubtedly been foolishly summoned to this plane from some dark circle of the underworld only to be dropped off at the SPCA…has developed a new quirk this week. My cat love’s the taste of Neosporin. This means that if given half a chance she will lick the antibiotics right off of you. But the only reason I would be applying Neosporin is because she has wounded me.
Which means my cat is slowly learning that if it can bleed me it gets a treat.
From Across the Pond
I have a hot tip for you fresh off the presses, you nattering old she bat: If you’re going to bad mouth me to your friend in the background you might want to hold the phone a bit further away so that I can’t overhear every word of it. Because it won’t exactly indenture me to your service any further. While you may not notice any perceptible change in my usual pleasantly delightful tone of operator voice, I can assure you that my mental mood has become one of dark, dark tidings. You can consider yourself quite fortunate that I am not some insidious dark templar or cunning witch doctor and thus do not possess any form of hex, curse or other such incantation with which to malign you and form peculiar smelling cysts on your ancient, withered nether regions. But alas, I am a simple CSR
So, lacking any dark magical powers, I shall merely sit here in my little seat with my little bottle of Coke Zero and hate you impotently from afar. Mine is a sad life.
867
If you did not hear me clearly or wish me to repeat what I have just said please try a term such as “Pardon?”, “Excuse me?” or “Could you repeat that please?”. Your current choice of “WHAT?@$?!%” as if I had just admitted to spending the last half hour out back spanking your teenage daughter with the family dog while yelling “BOW BEFORE THE MIGHT OF SPAIN!”. Which, of course, I did not. Far as I remember anyway. I’m pretty sure I would recall something like that had it transpired and really, Spain? I’m not going to spank anyone on behalf of Spain. Austria, maybe. I’d tan girl hide for Austria.
Oh Just Fark Off
( This is the emergency line for a certain chain of gas stations. Its for the station's use only but this dumbass must have persisted through the switchboard menus to me anyway. )
Did you seriously just call me, on the afterhours emergency maintenance line, to complain about the price of gas? Wow. I don’t think I can even accurately portray to you how little I care about you and your whining. You’re also grossly mistaken if you think I, the on call maintenance crew or <company> have absolutely any control over the current price of oil. My protests that I could do little to assist you were met with a response that basically amounted to “I don’t care, I’m an irrational jackass and just want to yell at someone because it’s too expensive to drive the SUV which I use to artificially inflate the size of my man bits. Behold my rage for my penis is tiny, flaccid and has not achieved sufficient structural density to satisfy my wife and / or sister in 6 years.”
You also seem to be under the impression that I am “in the know” of some sort of massive conspiracy to raise gas prices. You’re basing this on the fact that the price of oil dropped by a dime a barrel this week and <company> has not yet lowered the price at the pump to reflect the potentially massive savings this could entail. I claim no expertise in economics but I’m pretty sure the whole supply & demand structure of the oil industry is more complex than that.
867
SC: “Yeah, I wanna order 4 hats!”
Ah, yes. Well, spank me with a dog and demand my subservience to the Spanish but I didn’t see that coming. It was a total surprise. Really. Look, I have goose bumps.
Biff: The Man, The Legend
Tonight I had to endure the rambling stories of some butthole on the bus that was talking to the driver ( Whom has my pity. ). Having little better to do and sensing something I could ridicule this man for at a later date to friends and family, I listened intently to his tales.
It seems this man, whom I shall call Biff. Not for any particular reason, mind you. Just because he seemed like a Biff. Anyway, Biff, over his 50 years, has engaged in epic struggles onboard public transit. In defense of bus drivers to be exact. Biff had clocked an actual number. 16. 16 bus driver’s lives he had dramatically saved from drunks, druggies and hobos. But what did he get for it? Nothing! Biff as rather put off that he didn’t at least get a free transit pass for life or something for saving the lives of so many bus drivers. While surely he must be at the top of the Coast Mountain bus driver lifesaving scoreboard by now and nothing. Not a thing. Not even some gummy bears or a Slim Jim.
But alas, this unsung hero shall forever go unrewarded. Not that it will stop him. He shall continue his quest. Kind of like grossly out of shape, somewhat intoxicated version of Caine from Kung Fu. Wandering from bus to bus, solving people’s problems and becoming easily winded.
867
Me: “and your name please?”
SC: “….um…..”
Me: “……”
SC: “…Pamela.”
Me: “Ok, and your last name please?”
SC: “<insert noise like an otter being choking with a sock>”
Me: “and how do you spell that, please?”
SC: “Uh…..P-a-m-e-“
Me: “No, how do you spell your last name please?”
SC: “Ummm….I-“
Considering how much difficult you’re having with the first level of our little game I’m not holding out much hope for the rest of this call. You’ve literally just pressed start, held down forward and blundered straight into the first Goomba in World 1-1.
Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
SC: “Uh…..xxxx-xx”
Me: “Alright, what size would you like?”
SC: “Um…..women’s hooded jacket.”
Me: “Yes, but what size would you like it in?”
SC: “um….xxxx-xx”
Me: “…..ok, but what size would you like it in?”
Press A to jump, you fool. A TO JUMP.
Um...right
Caller called to complain that we’ve been running the same commercial for almost a year. He demands a new commercial. He did note that the people in the commercial are bordering on ancient, are wearing cloths and the women have nice embroidery on their bath robes. In fact he seemed quite interested in the…details….of the physical forms of the actors in the commercial. He has labeled our lack of variation in our geriatric fan service as “monotonous” and has become bored. He demands we find new half naked seniors to parade around in front of him in skimpy bath robes. We must satiate his lust for archaic ta-tas and wudjibbles. I’m not entirely familiar with wudjibbles, so I can’t explain precisely what they are. But I assume they’re something that should normally be kept covered in public.
( On a side note if you somehow manage to figure out what commercial this is from this vague description and call me at 3am I will harm you. -.- )
Congrats?
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “I HAVE A KITCHEN.”
Really? Me too! That’s amazing! Why, it’s almost seems like there’s one in practically every home in the country! Please try to swallow a golf ball!
Directions
Me: “Ok, and what’s your address please?”
SC: “Oh, I live just a ways out of town around the cabin area just around the hill.”
Really? How many paces is it from town to the cabin? Is there any landmarks I need to make note of? What about alligators or palm trees? Come on, spit it out. I need to finish my treasure map, stuff it in a bottle, hurdle it off the Seabus and hope it washes up somewhere close to our client's office.
867
Me: “and your phone number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “….your entire phone number please?”
SC: “Oh, uh, xxx-xxx-xxxx”
Ah yes, I forgot. I need to be very specific when making queries of you folk. You’re like the living, breathing, ass scratching personification of the chaos theory. No matter how much control I exert or how predetermined the course of the call may be, you can and will discover some method of screwing it all up through no direct effort of your own. Your mere presence is enough to derail even the most basic, straight forward, could easily teach to a 6 year to do it process. You have a sort of passive idiot aura that affects all those around you and you’ve been steadily pouring skill points into it every level to increase its range and effect. I can only fear what will happen when you get to the high levels and start collecting some good +Fucktard and +Slackwit gear to boost your base abilities.
On am ironic side note, we actually sell a rather wide selection of the gear in question. So we're actually making them stronger.
Friday Night
Ah, Friday nights on Granville street….
First up, the fidgeting, nervous guy with the bouquet of flowers standing at Granville station clearly waiting for what must be his first date. I can appreciate the effort you have attempted to put into this. However there’s a few key flaws I’d like to point out. Number one, you’re dressed like a waiter. If you’re about to take someone out to dinner it may be best if you don’t look like you work at the restaurant. Number two, you have obviously created a bouquet using random colours of roses you thought would look pretty rather than paying attention to what the various colours mean. Because far as I can tell that arrangement means “I’m sorry you have me as a friend, MARRY ME.”.
Second up, Ramon. The new clerk at 7/11. Ramon is a squat, all around average possibly Indonesian guy with a buzz cut and a goatee. Except for the fact he’s wearing the most stunning pair of diamond earrings I’ve ever seen. Well, that and he almost managed to charge my stuff to the debit card of the girl in front of me. That was pretty impressive too.
Third up, bike twit. I didn’t actually get to see most of bike twit. I just heard him go by going “Look! No hands! No hands! No hands! OH SHI-“. At that point he came to a sudden stop. Sadly, I missed the exact moment of his glory. I only got to see ( and enjoy ) his suffering afterwards. I laughed. Because he really did get out an "OH SHI-".
867
Tonight I discovered we sell backpack beer coolers. Backpack beer coolers. These people are bad enough without us…enabling them. We’re almost one stop shopping for them now. Hats, pants and a beer cooler. Throw in a 12 pack of Coors and 6 lbs of bacon and you got yourself a Nunavut Christmas.
867
Me: “and would you like that shipped regular or express?”
SC: “Uh..which one’s faster?”
Me: “.....that would be express.”
Your response physically hurt my mind, you know. In order to come up with that response you’d have to be completely oblivious to the meaning of both words. Not just “express”. I mean, if you know what “regular” meant then logically “express” would be the faster option right? Unless you seriously think we regularly offer 2 week shipping but we do offer special 4 week shipping for an extra $6.50. So I must conclude that neither word is in your vocabulary. I assume this is because either they contain too many syllables and/or are not commonly used on Spongebob Squarepants.
Meh. I Hate Accounts That Make Me Do This
Caller: “I’m the one calling for info and you’re asking more questions the I am!!”
Yes, I am fervently data mining your personal life. Searching for a weakness. Any weakness. A phone number, An address, an email address. Something, anything. Once we’ve obtained it, your existence belongs to us. Telemarketing calls, junk mail, email spam promising you great mortgage rates, free smiley’s and inches upon inches to the length of your peni-….er….nevermind.
Too Much Time
( This is a medical lab )
Every other day <employee of client> calls in to let me know she’s in the building and I can reach her at extension such and such if I need her. Despite the fact we have never once, ever, ever had to call her for anything. Yet she persists in giving us these updates. They come across more as desperately lonely pleas for love rather than convenient status updates. Why is she even in the office at 4:30am? She’s not on call. So what exactly is going on in there? I of course have come up with a couple of theories, because I have a lot of time on my hands:
1) Her office computer is much more powerful than her home computer. So 4:30am is the perfect time to slink into the office and pwn some nubs on Call of Duty 4 before everyone else gets in.
2) She’s crying alone into a 2 litre of Chunky Monkey Hagen Daas. Desperately hoping one of us will call her for something.
3) She has a Bowflex in her office and requires just 20 minutes a day to stay in shape.
4) She’s having a torrid affair with the office fax machine and this is the only time they can be alone.
5) She’s having a torrid affair with her home fax machine and accidentally rubbed up against the speed dial for the office, thus faxing evidence of their passion to her work place. She has come to destroy the evidence and slay the only witness, the office fax machine.
6) She’s licking all the test samples.
7) There’s an abundance of prescription medication on site and Mommy needs her happy time.
8) She doesn’t have a computer at home so she has to come to work early to check her MySpace.
9) Erotic. Harry. Potter. Yaoi. Fanfiction.
10) I want to go home. <whimper>
From Across the Pond #2
Me: “Are you calling to register for the sweepstakes?”
SC: “What?! I got this letter that told me to call. So I called. What’s going on?”
Me: “This is a registration line for a sweepstakes. Would you like to register?”
SC: “What?! I don’t know! The letter told me to call. So I called. I don’t know what this is!”
Now repeat this exchange almost word for word about 6 or 7 times. See, basically, he got the sweepstakes letter. The letter told him to call. He took this as an order. An unbreakable commandment. A geas if you will. So he called. But that was really as far ahead as he thought. He didn’t know why he was calling or what he was calling for. Just that the letter had commanded him to call and he did not have the strength of will to resist the compulsion of his newfound paper overlord. I’m sure even now, as I speak, he’s down on his hands and knees….servicing...his new master.
Lick the stamp, peon. LICK IT.
Granville Street Redux
Attention Granville Busker: I appreciate the amount of effort you’ve put into this. You even have a tiny little stand with your music sheets up in front of you. But it doesn’t change the fact you can not play the saxophone and a badly played saxophone is just below the violin on the big list of instruments that sounds like a mortally wounded animal being slowly pulled into a large piece of industrial equipment. Please stop. Get the Hell off the street and make sure you make past at least page 6 in your Fisherprice; My First Instrument lesson book before you return.
Also, to the girl sitting on the filthy floor in front of Tim Horton’s at Granville station for no apparent reason. I am not a fashion expert. But I have watched several episodes of TLC’s What Not To Wear so I can say, with the utmost confidence, that you should not be wearing metallic gold tights and a mini skirt unless you belong to a circus. From San Francisco. For the vision impaired.
Hot Tips for America
SC: “Yeah, have you ever read the Book of Revelations?”
Me: “……”
SC: “Well I figured it out. See it says Prince Charles is the anti-christ a-“
Ok, just stop right there. Look, I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t think this is going to work out between us. It’s always the same thing with you over and over. “Prince Charles is the dark lord” this and ”Prince Charles touches little boys” that. I’m just really tired of it. I think we both need to start seeing other calls.
Yankee 911
According to someone by the code name “Old Soldier”, someone is dropping off too many cigarettes in Abbotsford at the docks. Because of that people are dying left and right. The power’s been cut, the phone lines are down and the air raid sirens went quiet half an hour ago. Now it’s deathly quiet. Everyone’s dead and he can’t get a hold of Ottawa to warn them. This is the only number he was able to get through too and he only has a working phone because he has a backup generator.
He was quite upset with me once it became apparent I didn’t give a rat’s flaming ass hair over an open Texas style grill about the “situation”.
Of course there’s a very very very very small chance that Abbotsford really has been bombed into the ground or otherwise attacked somehow and I’ve just delayed the response times of the national guard and emergency services which could result in the deaths of hundreds. But I’m not about to let hundreds of lives hanging in the balance stop me from making fun of somebody.
Yankee 911...er....2
( This guy's girlfriend lost her passport. So instead of hitting 1 for passport info he hit 4 for "I've been arrested for a federal offense and/or critically injured abroad in Canada" to come through to me. I of course can do nothing. )
SC: “Ok, well, thanks for all your help. THAT YOU DIDN’T GIVE US.”
On behalf of someone who’s not even an American citizen, you’re very welcome. If there’s anything else I have absolutely no power or inclination to assist you with feel free to call back. Alternatively, please feel free to drop to the floor of your current location and kick and scream until Mommy gets fed up and takes you back out to the car.
Oh, and just for the record “Stolen” means her purse was physical taken. “Forgot it in the bathroom at the restaurant 4 hours ago and just noticed now and the restaurant's closed” just means she's an idiot.
Difficulties
Me: “and by what credit card?”
SC: “That’ll be by Visa.”
Me: “Ok, and what’s the card number please?”
SC: “….that’ll be a bit of a challenge.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this shift its that many, many things are for some of you people. Regardless of how basic or mundane the task might be. But, not all is despair. Be proud, my furry little friend, for you were at least able to jump the “What’s your name?” hurdle. You’d be surprised how many callers can’t even make it over that one. You won’t win any medals, granted. But at the very least you’ll get one of those certificate of participation things that they hand out as a token gesture to prevent damage to your fragile self esteem.
867!
Me: “Good evening, <comp-“
SC: “HOW COME PLACE COD ORDER?!?”
Jesus Bisquick Christ! Don’t hurt me! What do you want?! Pants?! I have pants. I can give you pants. Just, whatever you want. I can get you pants. Lots of pants. Hats too. Please don’t kill me.
867
Wow, ok, this call was the pretty much the apex of all that is Nunavut in a single call. There were actually 3 people involved in the call not including the 2 kids screaming bloody murder in the background. First off was the Negotiator. She had been voted to actually speak with me and convey the wishes of the group. The only problem is the other two didn’t actually tell her any of the relevant information she’d need like what they want, what size they want it in, what colour, etc.
So throughout the entire call there’s an annoying female whom I shall call MINE! GIMME! on one side that keeps interrupting with whatever it is she wants. Then on the other side is a half drunken Apeman of some sort that isn’t volunteering any information. So the Negotiator keeps having to scream every one of my questions at the Apeman who becomes enraged and barks his answers back in some sort of guttural language known only in Mordor. While the entire time MINE! GIMME! keeps interrupting to make her demands. So the Negotiator is getting increasingly angered with the Apeman, who is becoming more enraged the more he’s forced to attempt to speak and all the while the two kids are shrieking at the top of their lines and MINE! GIMME! is shrilly rattling off her Christmas wish list.
It was my personal little glimpse into the redneck yeti Hell that is our barren northern reaches and I fear I shall never be the same again after what I have seen.
<sob>
! and b) how do you know that?...but I REALLY don't want to know a. B is fine though.
And have I mentioned that I like you?
Comment