Tweet
Wherein ( Fashion ) Mistakes Are Made
My HD is slowly perishing and is not fond of Internet browsing at the moment. So this is somewhat arduous to post. But my misery must be shared! ( It keeps me sane ). >.>
Wait, What?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “No! You're a bunch of fucking crooks! You're IN LEAGUE WITH THE FUCKING JEWS! <click>"
I…tha….what? That….that….I didn’t ask that. Why do you do this? What manner of foul man or beast relieved itself into a part of your complete breakfast? And why is it my fault? Your spittle laden vehemence is both misguided and completely lacking context. I don’t even know what you’re mad about. So it’s not like your sputtered bile has flown true and struck down the object of your ire. It has careened sloppily off a nearby lamp post and dribbled into a storm drain. Never to be seen again with no one the wiser.
You Might Want To Get Out Of There
Why yes, a strong smell of gas coming from your stove is very alarming. However, the on duty maintenance guy has indicated that you actually own an electric stove. Which….ok actually I guess that makes this scenario even more alarming, doesn’t it? In fact…maybe you should just go outside for a little while. Perhaps get a bit of distance between you and the building just in case. Maybe a block or two.
Warm Ups
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Frank”
Me: “How do you spell that please?”
SC: “F-R-A-N…..uh….F-R-A-N……umm....”
It’s ok, it’s alright. You can take a couple of practice runs if you need too. Get a feel for the word. Break it down in your head. There’s no rush. If you need my help, I’m right here. You know, just in case you need a spotter. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself after all. You have to know your limits and how many letters you can safely string together. You don’t want to a career ending injury. You gotta be careful. If you have a verbal blow out, you’re never string a coherent sentence together again in your life. Then the only thing left for you will be reality television.
Power Down
( The power went out a building one of our client's manages. Somehow this is our fault and not the power companies )
It would seem that it only takes approximately 45 minutes without electricity for the average adult human being to lose their goddamn mind. As evidenced by a power failure at <building> this evening. From the way people are reacting when they call me, you’d swear they were all huddled in their suites hooked up to life support with a 1 hour back up battery. Relax people. Go to bed. It’ll be on in the morning. There’s nothing so important that requires electricity that you can’t do without it for the rest of the night. And if it is that important chances are you bought a smart phone to do it with anyway. In fact you’re probably either using your smart phone as a flash light right now or looking up what to do when the power is out on Google only to have it tell you that you should have bought a flashlight.
Power Down II
It would seem it only takes 2 hours without power for the average adult human being to completely abandoned their home like rats from a sinking ship. Though I’m going to guess that in your case in particular there may be some…ulterior motives. The building has been without power for 2 hours, and thus, the heat hasn’t been on. So you’re calling to complain that it’s somehow too cold now ( I guess they used a layer of Post It notes to insulate the walls ). Your “solution” to being too cold was to go hang out at the casino for a few hours. Not get a blanket or put on a sweater then go to bed. But stay up and go to a casino.
There may be a bigger underlying problem here you’re not admitting to yourself.
Why?
“Here, eat this.”
“What? What is it?”
“It’s a Cheerio I found at Safeway”
“…..Why?”
Yes, scruffy skateboarder downtown on Granville. I must echo your friend’s inquiry: Why? In fact if I may append his statement: Why God, Why?
More To The Point
Why hello, madam! How are you this evening? I hate to be a bother, but if I may make a simple request of your? In the future if you ever set out to order this many items ever again. Please do not waste my time or your own by listing each item individually. But rather, when I ask for the product number, just say “All of them.”. Its straight to the point and conveys all of the information I require much more effectively. Thanks!
Upgrades
Me: “Alright, and the PO box number?”
SC: “…..uhhh………..box…..uum....6.....3.....9?"
You don’t sound overly sure of that. In fact there’s a distinct hang time before you managed to answer most of my inquiries thus far. It’s somewhat disconcerting I must admit. I’m not sure if I’ve lost you or if you’re just lost. Have you ever considered maybe getting a hard drive activity light installed on your forehead? Just so other people know when you’re thinking of a response? That way they won’t think you’re ignoring them when you sit there trying to muster a coherent reply.
Wired For Sound
Me: “Alright, do you have your account number?”
SC: “Well see you email me all the time all it says is a number here its its got a number whatkindofnumberwoulditbeyouemailmeallthetimeIneve rreallythinkaboutitis thereanemailinvolvedsomewhere?!”
Me: “......A copy is typically mailed out when you first set up an account.”
SC: “Oh, that was a while ago I threw it in the garbage but they’re emailing they kept giving an email usually and I don't get anymore letters but I throw them in the garbage anyway you know in the garbage? But I got some emails here you email all the time-“
Wow, ok, calm down, dude. Deep breathes. Relax. I don’t know what you’re up on, but I’d really appreciate it if you came back down off of it for a couple of minutes.
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Ok well its Matthew Beedle. Matt actually. M-A-T-T. Beedle. B-E-E-D-L-E. You know like the insect? The insect, its like a little round thing with like 6 legs. You know the one? Its like that but with a D."
Easy there. Eaaasy. It’s alright. There’s no rush. There's no time limit on this call. You're not racing the clock. There is no penalty for going over nor any prize for setting a new record.
SC: “You can just email it to me no need to send in the mail just email it to me that’s all I need. Whatever works good for you. Whatever’s fine. Great. Whatever works for you is great. That’s fine with me. Great. I’m not worried. I’m not worried that you guys won’t send me it. I'm sure you'll guys will send me it. That works for you right? That works for me. So what do you want to do? What’s that? Sorry? Hello?”
You know, I’m not sure what you were doing before you called, but it must have been priced by the gram.
Technical Know How
SC: “Um, their networks are down and uh, then uh, then yesterday….and I can’t, I won’t be able too…uh, I tried to log one of them out there, and uh….its not responding to the….uh….when I log in there….I won’t be able too. It’s not….uh…its not….I guess they didn’t log out there? They logged in instead of logging out? Uh…..yesterday they uh-“
Allow me to provide you with some advice: In the future when you call about a problem, it’s perfectly okay to say “I DON’T KNOW IT BROKEN”. That’s fine, I can work from that. It’s simple, to the point and you won’t give yourself an aneurysm trying to explain powers that are clearly far beyond your comprehension. In fact, here, I can even give you some guidelines to work with:
If you’re trying to figure out the problem with a computer, and your conclusion is “OH GOD COMPUTER R MAGIC” then it’s okay to just say its broken and you don’t know what happened or why. There’s no shame in it. At least, no shame you can perceive as I will only make fun of you behind your back to my peers.
Oh, Hello
( Rousing a tech for COMPUTER R MAGIC )
Me: “Hi, it’s GK from the afterhours desk here. I just have a case dispatch for you.”
Tech: “Oh. Cool!”
That’s…not really the normal kind of reaction I get when I wake up an on call guy in the middle of the night. I mean, I’m not complaining. But are you sure you’re feeling alright? Do you have a fever? Are you lightheaded? Have you been varnishing something in a poorly ventilated room?
Oh, Hello II
Me: “Hi, it’s GK from the afterhours desk here. I just have a case dispatch for you.”
Tech: “Don’t you people ever let me sleep?”
Ahhhhhh, there it is. That’s the kind of reaction I’m use too. Sweet, sweet scorn.
Tech: “I know what you’re thinking, this guy doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t even have a pen ready.”
A very astute observation, my friend. But please, if you would, a little less mind reading and a little more rummaging through your desk for a pen.
Tech: “Thanks, Leslie”
Anytime, Shirley.
Washed Up
After many months of hiatus. A certain.....street performer....has returned his urine soaked stage this evening. Performing his…talents….at his usual ( street ) corner stage. Though it seems his career isn’t going particularly well. The rest of his cohorts have all but abandoned him. Even his partner appears to be gone. It’s just him now. Striving on by himself. Undaunted. Determined. Talentless. Even his drunken fans are gone. Usually he has at least a few people watching him or gaping in horror. Not so much tonight. Tonight, he had but one spectator: Binky the Mosher.
Binky was moshing without the mosh pit or music or a beat or indeed anything at all. By which I mean Binky was moshing all by himself a couple of feet away and doing so to particularly awful freestyle rap. Binky was moshing way way too enthusiastically. In fact I dare say Binky may have been hired to mosh in order to give the illusion that someone, somewhere, was actually excited to see this performance. Unfortunately, he’s acting way way too excited. I mean there’s excited and then there’s “Everyone is purposefully taking a 10 foot detour around you like you’re that scruffy hobo that yells at invisible animals”.
Though I will, for once, concur with a single lyric laid down this evening: He is indeed the whitest boy I have ever seen. Although, this line was delivered with his usual trademark coherency: “I’m the whitest boy you’ve ever seen even when its dark out”.
Indeed.
Crimes Against Humanity
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Ok, stop. Stop. Just. Stop. I can no longer assist you. I must put forth a morale objection. You are asking me to help you commit one of the greatest fashion crimes I have ever witnessed. I cannot do it. I will not help you do this. You….you monster. You want me to help you wear this in public?
This….this whatever it is.
What? What is this? Why does it exist? Why do you want to wear it? Where you sitting around this morning and thought “You know….I need to find a way to look like an 18th century train robber but still show off the fact I’m a huge fan of crystal meth and the Grateful Dead”. Then you opened the catalog and viola, all of your dreams had become reality.
Well, sorry to disappoint, but it’s actually out of stock. As in…..somehow….we managed to sell them all. I have no idea how. Just be advised that there are several people out there in the world. Right now. Who paid money so they could wear this outside. Be advised and be alarmed.
annnnd rest
Wait, What?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “No! You're a bunch of fucking crooks! You're IN LEAGUE WITH THE FUCKING JEWS! <click>"
I…tha….what? That….that….I didn’t ask that. Why do you do this? What manner of foul man or beast relieved itself into a part of your complete breakfast? And why is it my fault? Your spittle laden vehemence is both misguided and completely lacking context. I don’t even know what you’re mad about. So it’s not like your sputtered bile has flown true and struck down the object of your ire. It has careened sloppily off a nearby lamp post and dribbled into a storm drain. Never to be seen again with no one the wiser.
You Might Want To Get Out Of There
Why yes, a strong smell of gas coming from your stove is very alarming. However, the on duty maintenance guy has indicated that you actually own an electric stove. Which….ok actually I guess that makes this scenario even more alarming, doesn’t it? In fact…maybe you should just go outside for a little while. Perhaps get a bit of distance between you and the building just in case. Maybe a block or two.
Warm Ups
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Frank”
Me: “How do you spell that please?”
SC: “F-R-A-N…..uh….F-R-A-N……umm....”
It’s ok, it’s alright. You can take a couple of practice runs if you need too. Get a feel for the word. Break it down in your head. There’s no rush. If you need my help, I’m right here. You know, just in case you need a spotter. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself after all. You have to know your limits and how many letters you can safely string together. You don’t want to a career ending injury. You gotta be careful. If you have a verbal blow out, you’re never string a coherent sentence together again in your life. Then the only thing left for you will be reality television.
Power Down
( The power went out a building one of our client's manages. Somehow this is our fault and not the power companies )
It would seem that it only takes approximately 45 minutes without electricity for the average adult human being to lose their goddamn mind. As evidenced by a power failure at <building> this evening. From the way people are reacting when they call me, you’d swear they were all huddled in their suites hooked up to life support with a 1 hour back up battery. Relax people. Go to bed. It’ll be on in the morning. There’s nothing so important that requires electricity that you can’t do without it for the rest of the night. And if it is that important chances are you bought a smart phone to do it with anyway. In fact you’re probably either using your smart phone as a flash light right now or looking up what to do when the power is out on Google only to have it tell you that you should have bought a flashlight.
Power Down II
It would seem it only takes 2 hours without power for the average adult human being to completely abandoned their home like rats from a sinking ship. Though I’m going to guess that in your case in particular there may be some…ulterior motives. The building has been without power for 2 hours, and thus, the heat hasn’t been on. So you’re calling to complain that it’s somehow too cold now ( I guess they used a layer of Post It notes to insulate the walls ). Your “solution” to being too cold was to go hang out at the casino for a few hours. Not get a blanket or put on a sweater then go to bed. But stay up and go to a casino.
There may be a bigger underlying problem here you’re not admitting to yourself.
Why?
“Here, eat this.”
“What? What is it?”
“It’s a Cheerio I found at Safeway”
“…..Why?”
Yes, scruffy skateboarder downtown on Granville. I must echo your friend’s inquiry: Why? In fact if I may append his statement: Why God, Why?
More To The Point
Why hello, madam! How are you this evening? I hate to be a bother, but if I may make a simple request of your? In the future if you ever set out to order this many items ever again. Please do not waste my time or your own by listing each item individually. But rather, when I ask for the product number, just say “All of them.”. Its straight to the point and conveys all of the information I require much more effectively. Thanks!
Upgrades
Me: “Alright, and the PO box number?”
SC: “…..uhhh………..box…..uum....6.....3.....9?"
You don’t sound overly sure of that. In fact there’s a distinct hang time before you managed to answer most of my inquiries thus far. It’s somewhat disconcerting I must admit. I’m not sure if I’ve lost you or if you’re just lost. Have you ever considered maybe getting a hard drive activity light installed on your forehead? Just so other people know when you’re thinking of a response? That way they won’t think you’re ignoring them when you sit there trying to muster a coherent reply.
Wired For Sound
Me: “Alright, do you have your account number?”
SC: “Well see you email me all the time all it says is a number here its its got a number whatkindofnumberwoulditbeyouemailmeallthetimeIneve rreallythinkaboutitis thereanemailinvolvedsomewhere?!”
Me: “......A copy is typically mailed out when you first set up an account.”
SC: “Oh, that was a while ago I threw it in the garbage but they’re emailing they kept giving an email usually and I don't get anymore letters but I throw them in the garbage anyway you know in the garbage? But I got some emails here you email all the time-“
Wow, ok, calm down, dude. Deep breathes. Relax. I don’t know what you’re up on, but I’d really appreciate it if you came back down off of it for a couple of minutes.
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Ok well its Matthew Beedle. Matt actually. M-A-T-T. Beedle. B-E-E-D-L-E. You know like the insect? The insect, its like a little round thing with like 6 legs. You know the one? Its like that but with a D."
Easy there. Eaaasy. It’s alright. There’s no rush. There's no time limit on this call. You're not racing the clock. There is no penalty for going over nor any prize for setting a new record.
SC: “You can just email it to me no need to send in the mail just email it to me that’s all I need. Whatever works good for you. Whatever’s fine. Great. Whatever works for you is great. That’s fine with me. Great. I’m not worried. I’m not worried that you guys won’t send me it. I'm sure you'll guys will send me it. That works for you right? That works for me. So what do you want to do? What’s that? Sorry? Hello?”
You know, I’m not sure what you were doing before you called, but it must have been priced by the gram.
Technical Know How
SC: “Um, their networks are down and uh, then uh, then yesterday….and I can’t, I won’t be able too…uh, I tried to log one of them out there, and uh….its not responding to the….uh….when I log in there….I won’t be able too. It’s not….uh…its not….I guess they didn’t log out there? They logged in instead of logging out? Uh…..yesterday they uh-“
Allow me to provide you with some advice: In the future when you call about a problem, it’s perfectly okay to say “I DON’T KNOW IT BROKEN”. That’s fine, I can work from that. It’s simple, to the point and you won’t give yourself an aneurysm trying to explain powers that are clearly far beyond your comprehension. In fact, here, I can even give you some guidelines to work with:
If you’re trying to figure out the problem with a computer, and your conclusion is “OH GOD COMPUTER R MAGIC” then it’s okay to just say its broken and you don’t know what happened or why. There’s no shame in it. At least, no shame you can perceive as I will only make fun of you behind your back to my peers.
Oh, Hello
( Rousing a tech for COMPUTER R MAGIC )
Me: “Hi, it’s GK from the afterhours desk here. I just have a case dispatch for you.”
Tech: “Oh. Cool!”
That’s…not really the normal kind of reaction I get when I wake up an on call guy in the middle of the night. I mean, I’m not complaining. But are you sure you’re feeling alright? Do you have a fever? Are you lightheaded? Have you been varnishing something in a poorly ventilated room?
Oh, Hello II
Me: “Hi, it’s GK from the afterhours desk here. I just have a case dispatch for you.”
Tech: “Don’t you people ever let me sleep?”
Ahhhhhh, there it is. That’s the kind of reaction I’m use too. Sweet, sweet scorn.
Tech: “I know what you’re thinking, this guy doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t even have a pen ready.”
A very astute observation, my friend. But please, if you would, a little less mind reading and a little more rummaging through your desk for a pen.
Tech: “Thanks, Leslie”
Anytime, Shirley.
Washed Up
After many months of hiatus. A certain.....street performer....has returned his urine soaked stage this evening. Performing his…talents….at his usual ( street ) corner stage. Though it seems his career isn’t going particularly well. The rest of his cohorts have all but abandoned him. Even his partner appears to be gone. It’s just him now. Striving on by himself. Undaunted. Determined. Talentless. Even his drunken fans are gone. Usually he has at least a few people watching him or gaping in horror. Not so much tonight. Tonight, he had but one spectator: Binky the Mosher.
Binky was moshing without the mosh pit or music or a beat or indeed anything at all. By which I mean Binky was moshing all by himself a couple of feet away and doing so to particularly awful freestyle rap. Binky was moshing way way too enthusiastically. In fact I dare say Binky may have been hired to mosh in order to give the illusion that someone, somewhere, was actually excited to see this performance. Unfortunately, he’s acting way way too excited. I mean there’s excited and then there’s “Everyone is purposefully taking a 10 foot detour around you like you’re that scruffy hobo that yells at invisible animals”.
Though I will, for once, concur with a single lyric laid down this evening: He is indeed the whitest boy I have ever seen. Although, this line was delivered with his usual trademark coherency: “I’m the whitest boy you’ve ever seen even when its dark out”.
Indeed.
Crimes Against Humanity
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Ok, stop. Stop. Just. Stop. I can no longer assist you. I must put forth a morale objection. You are asking me to help you commit one of the greatest fashion crimes I have ever witnessed. I cannot do it. I will not help you do this. You….you monster. You want me to help you wear this in public?
This….this whatever it is.
What? What is this? Why does it exist? Why do you want to wear it? Where you sitting around this morning and thought “You know….I need to find a way to look like an 18th century train robber but still show off the fact I’m a huge fan of crystal meth and the Grateful Dead”. Then you opened the catalog and viola, all of your dreams had become reality.
Well, sorry to disappoint, but it’s actually out of stock. As in…..somehow….we managed to sell them all. I have no idea how. Just be advised that there are several people out there in the world. Right now. Who paid money so they could wear this outside. Be advised and be alarmed.
annnnd rest
He is my Black Dragon (and yes, a good one) strong, protective, the guardian. I am his Silver Dragon, always by his side, shining for him, cherishing him.
What...is that monstrosity?! That takes a special kind of tasteless to come up with that.
Comment