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Wherein I Post The Grand Finale
This will truly be my last digest, ladies and gents. I am losing my position as of next week ( No, I'm not being fired or demoted or anything, though the change of position is still unhappily involuntary. But I'm not one to talk about Fight Club on a public interwebs forum. ). I'll also be moving on with my writing to a certain comedy site if all goes well.
But enough doom and gloom, if am I to go out, it will be with a bang. So brace yourselves for some odd 2-3 months worth of pure, unadulterated idiocracy that I've been saving.... >.>
Negotiation
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Uh, um, uhhh, um…ummm….uh…..okay. <click>”
Good, I’m glad we could come to an agreement.
I'm Here To Help
Me: “And which catalog would you like to order from?”
SC: “Ummmmmm………….this one.”
You know, it alarms me how often I have to explain this: But I can’t see through the phone at what you’re referring too. The phone receiver is strictly audio only. It isn’t a viewport of any nature, nor am I actually a tiny phone gnome inside of it peering outwards in awe.
Me: “There should be a catalog number on the back”
SC: “I have to go find the back page”
Me: “Alright, well, what does it say on the front?”
SC: “……………………what's front?”
Front, sir. Front. The front. You know. The thing that points forward. Hmmm. How do I explain this so you can understand.....alright, your front is the direction your nipples are currently pointing.
I hope that helps.
I Take What I Can Get
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Sara”
Me: “S-A-R-A?”
SC: “You’re good.”
Why thank you. It’s taken years of careful practice to hone the ability to spell overly common first names. Sara is an especially tricky one you know, I mean it has three entirely different letters. That’s some hardcore shit right there. I mean, Christ, there's even a vowel.
Me: “Alright, and you’re in <city>?”
SC: “GOD you’re good!”
I’m beginning to suspect you’re patronizing me, ma’am. But none the less, I shall bask in your misguided, possibly insincere praise. For I am shallow and desperate for approval.
Online
Me: “And which catalog do you have there?”
SC: “Oh, I’m on the website.”
Me: “Alright, what’s the product number then please?”
SC: “……How do you get online?”
I think you may be somewhat confused as to the definition of being “on” a website. You can’t exactly get on a website if you’re not online to begin with. So unless you’re some sort of arctic neuromancer who can pull data from the ether with the wifi hotspot of their mind, I’m going to assume you’re a bit mixed up. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.
You see, when someone says they are “on” a website they mean they have loaded the website with their web browsing software. They don’t mean they have turned to the page in the catalog that mentions the website and then sat on top of it. While this would technically mean you were “on” the website in an abstract fashion, you would not actually be able to browse the website in this manner. This is mainly because your rectum incapable of performing a DNS look up.
It's A Gift
Me: “Will that be by cheque, credit card or COD?”
SC: “…..Ummmmm…….”
If you have to think about it, the answer is “COD”. Trust me on this one. I have years of experience navigating the alarmingly shadow waters on this line. Even if you don’t know exactly what you want or what’s going on, I do. Rest assured that regardless of your slackened wits I can make some sense of your attempts to communicate. Even if no one else can.
I am the Dunce Whisperer.
Okay, Maybe Not
Me: “And what size?”
SC: “Olive.”
…….Okay, even the Dunce Whisperer needs a hint now and then.
Thanks?
SC: “I’m just calling to correct your pronunciation.”
O…okay?
SC: “This is the second time I’ve had to do this!”
You’ve called not once, but twice, to angrily complain that someone on the TV pronounced something wrong? Don’t take this the wrong way, ma’am, but has anyone ever suggested you might need hobby? Or perhaps some sort of sedatives?
SC: “So I hope you’ll get that message to somebody. Maybe your supervisor.”
Oh, don’t worry ma’am. I’ll see to it that my superiors are duly informed that a lady yelled at me because someone pronounced a word wrong during a 3am infomercial. Of that much you can rest assured.
We're Branching Out
Me: “And what colour would you like?”
SC: “Oh, you have colours?”
Not normally, no. Normally everything we sell is one unified, depressingly bleak shade of grey. But we’re taking a chance on this “Red” thing we keep hearing all the kids talking about these days. So please, by all means give it a try and let us know what you think. This is a bold move for us and the shareholders are uneasy.
Oh God
Oh, and if you cough on the Skytrain and your candy falls out of your mouth, just let it go, man. Whatever you do, do not reach down, pick it up and put it back in your mouth. The 5 second rule does not apply to any surface on a public transit vehicle. I’ve been riding the Skytrain for 14 years and I assure you every square inch of it is covered in unspeakable pestilence. Which you have just put back into your mouth. My condolences to your family and may your impending passing be swift and merciful.
Cheers!
C: “Shorry, I ain’t too clear. I’m soakin’ my Hollywood smile!”
…I must admit I have never heard that saying before. But it is one of the classiest euphemisms for intoxication I have ever heard. So on behalf of the staff of <company> let me just say: Rock on, sir.
Numb3rs
Me: “And the product number please, sir?”
SC: “…..uhhhh………uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……I can’t find any………there are none on this page…..”
I can state with some confidence that there in fact numbers on that page and every page of the catalog. Therefore your inability to locate one is due in part or in whole to user error. In which case, I would urge you to attempt one or more of the following solutions: A) Turn on the lights. B) Turn the catalog right side up. C) Stop trying to find a number on the cat and put it down.
Halloween Round Up
It's pretty hard to look cool in your costume while wearing an umbrella, but many still tried over the course of the weekend. Some with more success than others......
Mortal Transit:
There’s nothing quite like seeing Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat desperately trying to explain to two transit cops why he doesn’t have a transfer on him.
Superfriends ( The Later Years ):
For those of looking to pull off the perfect superhero costume this Halloween, let me give you two quick pointers. Number 1) Niether Spiderman nor Superman had a beer gut. Number 2) There are certain…let’s say “physiques”….that should simply not be combined spandex under any circumstances. Especially not on public transit.
Sad Panda:
In an elaborate full body panda suit worthy of Chucky Cheese no less. This depressed creature was spotted not once, but twice. Once on the platform at Granville with a look on his face that clearly said “My girlfriend made me wear this.”. Then again out on Granville street, with the costume half off, arguing with his girlfriend over why he should wear this when all she had was a pair of cat ears. Poor Sad Panda.
Sadder Panda:
Wanna be a panda? Well, my friend, you are just a pair of black jeans and an untucked white dress shirt away from embracing the animal kingdom.
Pikachewed:
Poor Pikachu, he didn’t bring an umbrella and if the condition of his costume was any indication, he walked here from Surrey. Through a swamp.
Crazy Socks:
Colourful crazy socks. This seems to be this year’s “I want to go to a Halloween party but not actually spend any money on a costume” option. Just throw on weird or mismatched socks. Boom! You’ve got a costume(?). Dressed as, er, someone whose…colourblind? There were no less than 7 incidents of Crazy Socks on my way here. Moving in packs.
Petulant Pixie:
Have an adorable fairy costume? Want to get into character? Why then, you should storm up to the construction workers on <street> and scream obscenities at them for closing the road. Because when people think Tinkerbell, they think “angry drunk sailor”.
The Sultan of Cats & His Harem:
This bunch was on the train when I got on. One guy dressed as a sultan, but with cat ears sticking through his hat. With 3 female companions dressed as veiled Arabian dancers……also with cat ears.
Alf:
A little tip for those of you going all out this Halloween. If you’re going to wear a full body suit covered in fur you’d best pack an umbrella. Otherwise you’re going to be one sad, sad Alf by the time you make it to the Skytrain. Panting and wheezing because your costume is a giant, wet heavy towel. Luckily for you, your costume started to dry out a little bit by Broadway. Unlucky for us, it started to make the whole Skytrain smell like wet dog.
The Beverage of Evil:
Turns out Warlocks and Necromancers drink Coke Zero. I think I missed my calling.
Miraculous Zombies:
Again people, umbrellas. Do you know what happens to zombies that don’t bring an umbrella? Their face melts and they miraculously come back to life! Then spend the rest of the night telling people they’re dressed as a hobo.
Hobo-Kitty:
Speaking of hobos……but with cat ears. There must have been a sale somewhere.
I’m A Bag Of Doritos!:
Yes, yes you are. I admire the fact you went the extra 9 yards and strapped a giant foam nacho to your head too. But I’m a little unsettled that your ass has a Nutritional Information label.
???!?!:
What do you get when you throw on a tattered dress then glue 4 layers of tattered rags to it then throw a fake bear pelt over that then add giant furry big foot slippers, a towel over your head and a sword? I have absolutely no idea and I’d really appreciate a hint if you have a moment.
The Joker:
Does not have a beard.
Elvis:
Also does not have a beard.
Lucky Charms:
Beloved cereal mascots should not be trying to pick up women at a crosswalk. They should also not be using a guy in a blue velvet tux as a wingman if they want any measurable success at scoring a date.
Delicate Tarzan:
Tarzan costumes don’t exactly work when you still have to wear a sweater and jeans under them. Just a heads up.
Men In Black:
I don’t have a costume, but I do have a tux from my prom that still fits and some sunglasses!
The Wandering Dead:
Zombies have poor navigational skills. Luckily, despite being dead, they’re still coherent enough to ask me for directions.
Cold & Sexy:
Once more, say it with me now: Umbrellas. Especially if you’ve chosen one of the endless skimpy costume variations of Sexy <Insert Profession>. Otherwise Sexy Nurse, Sexy French Maid and Sexy Kitty are going to be huddled under a bus shelter cursing their lack of foresight.
Where’s Waldo:
Everywhere! I spotted him three times on the way here and then again working at <store>. He’s really lost his touch these days. Poor sod. Also, he smelled like….pickles. A lot like pickles. Like “I saw someone change seats on the Skytrain to get upwind” a lot like pickles.
Masked Bandit:
Just a helpful hint here for all of you lads thinking of skimping on your costume this year; Wearing just a cheap mask with a hooded sweatshirt does not say “I am dressed up for Halloween”. It says “Attention police officers, I am probably about to commit a felony. You may wish to question me vigorously at your earliest opportunity.”
Discount Tigger:
The affordable thing about Tiggers, is Tiggers are affordable things! Their tops are made out of cheap imported plastic! Their bottoms were undoubtedly purchased at the last minute from a nearby dollar store to avoid being the one dweeb that showed up at the party without a costume! You might want to take the price tag off there, dude. It’s on your back, on your left shoulder.
Mermaids:
Are a rather sad sight when they need an umbrella.
The Hog:
Do you know who rides public transit at night wearing just flannel and a pig mask, sir? Serial killers, that’s who. I’m not sure if you’re dressed up for Halloween or if this is the only night you can move about unnoticed by the authorities.
Viking Hoard:
A peculiar raiding party of Japanese Vikings boarded the Skytrain at Broadway. They were really quite polite though and didn’t even plunder anything. Very nice of them.
Officer Sexy Nurse:
Yes, that’s right. Officer Sexy Nurse. Skimpy nurse’s outfit, but a police officer’s hat and handcuffs. Because when you’re going to accessorize, you may as well go all out.
Luigi & Robin:
Both sidekicks. Both overshadowed by their more popular partner. Both seen together in the liquor store purchasing enough booze to bring down an elk. I assume they’re off to drown their sorrows as neither was invited to the awesome party Mario and Batman are at.
Canine Trio:
Three guys, all wearing the same dog mask and no other visible costume pieces. Just dog masks. I’m going to assume they’re actually notorious bank robbers. I’m also going to assume they sprung a flat on the way to the job and had to catch the Skytrain.
Wormhead & Sexy Pumpkin:
Miss, you have a giant worm coming out of your head. No other costume. Just….a giant foam worm coming out of your head. I thought perhaps you were dressed as, say, an apple? But my reasoning was dashed by the fact you’re wearing green, not red. I can only surmise you’re not actually aware you have a worm coming out of your head. In which case you may wish to ask your friend, Sexy ( Literal ) Pumpkin, why she’s purposefully ignoring it.
Superpimp!:
Yes, Superpimp. He even had a cape and chest emblem. He was wandering down the street towards the office with Catwoman and a Cow Girl in tow. Well, perhaps wandering is not the right term. Strutting, definitely strutting.
CTRL ALT DEL
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHH”
This caller has performed an illegal operation and will shut down.
Caller caused an invalid page fault in BASICINFO.EXE at 0147:0041f71. If the problem persists, please hang up and disregard.
Nobody Loves Me
SC: “Yeah, good evening. Um, this is the second time I’ve called this number. Is this an escort service?”
Why yes, yes it is, sir and I must admit I’m somewhat hurt! On your first call you said my coworker was beautiful and invited her out for a drink. Yet when I picked up the line you couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day. Am I not pretty enough for you? Is that it? Well, I’ll have you know I have a great personality and I could get a great guy if I wanted too. I don’t need the likes of you.
You men are all alike! (sob)
The Loop
Me: “And what size would you like?”
SC: “They’re for me son.”
Me: “Alright, but what size?”
SC: “Size 8 would be too big for him.”
I appreciate you trying to keep me in the loop, ma’am, but there’s really no need for you to vocalize your entire thought process. Simply let me know when, or if, you ever arrive at a conclusion. I can wait, it’s alright. Just be sure to emit a periodical, dull witted “uuuuhhhhhh” to let me know you’re still processing.
Doggy
SC: “This is an ongoing problem! The doggy bakery is baking doggy biscuits!”
…..Truly this is a crisis of unparalleled proportions.
SC: “They shouldn’t be baking at this time of night!”
But ma’am, if the doggy bakery doesn’t start baking doggy biscuits early then there won’t be any doggy biscuits for the doggies at the doggy bakery. What good is a doggy bakery that doesn’t have doggy biscuits? Do you want disappointed doggies at the doggy biscuit-less doggy bakery, ma’am? Do you?
Doggy.
Whoa
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “Oh man…..I don’t even know if we have a phone here. I’ve never seen one around.”
Alright, sir, it’s okay. Just relax. Now, before I say anything else, I want you to remain calm. Please be assured this is not a trick and I am not a wizard of any sort. Alright? Alright. Now, very slowly, take your hand away from your head and hold it up in front of you. Got it? Okay, good. Now, look at what you’re holding.
I trust I have just blown your mind.
Painful Memories
Me: “Would you like an order number?”
SC: “Not particularly, but fine let me get a pen”
It seems I have offended you, ma’am. Please rest assured that was not my intention. I fully apologize for suggesting you write down a number. It was very insensitive of me. I didn’t know your husband was tragically killed by a number last summer. It must be very difficult to see his killer’s face everywhere you turn. What with 4 being part of our area code and all. Every page of the phonebook must be a painful reminder of his untimely fate.
Please?
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “……uhhhhhh…….”
Can I please just politely terminate calls at this point? Pretty please? It’s never a good sign. If they can’t pass the litmus test of verbally identifying themselves, it’s quite doubtful they’re going to make it through the rest of the call. Even if they do, they’ll probably attempt to pay for the order with an assortment of bottlecaps, shiny pebbles and McDonald’s Monopoly game pieces.
Me: “And your postal code, please?”
SC: “…wha?”
Me: “Your postal code, please, ma’am?”
SC: “uhhhhhh.”
…..please?
SC: “….uhh……I’ll just call back tomorrow. I can’t make up my mind.”
Of course. I mean, why would you call to place an order if you actually knew what you wanted to order? That’s crazy talk. Clearly you need an operator on the line for moral support before you attempt to open the catalog. Shopping is dangerous, you know. You need a spotter. Especially when a catalog is involved. I mean, my God, do you know how many lives Sears has claimed over the years?
Dude Beer
I rode down town this evening with a gentlemen by the name of “Dude Beer” next to me. I don’t know who he was, or how he was ordained such a majestic title. But who am I to question someone that spelled “Dude Beer” on the back of his hat with hot glue and refrigerator magnets?
Susan
Me: “And your address please, sir?”
SC: “<address>, I wear size 9. Men’s medium. Favourite colour is blue.”
You’re a Virgo, you enjoy long walks on the beach, dancing and theatre; You’re looking for a strong, old fashion gentlemen with a great sense of humour and a successful career? I think you may have written down the number from a completely different commercial, sir. But if you like, the <charity> would be quite appreciative of $4.99/minute donation if you want to chat for a while.
Heck, you know what? It’s for a good cause. I’ll even let you call me Susan.
Diabolical Plans
Me: “Are you calling from BC?”
SC: “Yes, are you in BC?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “Oh, okay. I didn’t know if maybe you were out of the country.”
Of course we’re in BC, sir. Where else would we be? We are certainly in no way located deep underground in a clandestine bunker referred too internally only by the codename “Moonbase Beaver”. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to refill the generator and get my daily Power Bar ration. The Overseer gets upset when you're tardy.
Just FYI
It’s 2:30am eastern and North Carolina would like us to know that while its really late, and it’s probably had a few drinks, it thinks our loose fit jeans are “really purdy”. North Carolina then slipped us its phone number and winked.
For The Love of Chino
SC: “Don’t worry buddy, it’s not an emergency. I'm just looking for Chino.”
Well, if you say so ma’am! Who am I to argue with a blood alcohol content of 0.15%?
SC: “I’m in a place that makes loud noises. It’s not your fault.”
Yes, it is rather difficult to make out what you’re saying. You should ask Captain Morgan and Jack Daniels to try and keep it down a bit. You really shouldn’t be inviting them over this late, let alone letting them stay this long. They’re pretty bad company to have around when you’re trying to use the phone.
SC: “You have a great night and you’ve done nothing wrong. You’re doing fine, fine, fine, fine.”
I appreciate your vote of confidence on my job performance, ma’am. It’s nice to know I’m receiving high marks from the “drunk dialing her ex on a Saturday night” demographic.
For The Love of Chino: Part II
SC: “We spoke before, right?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am.”
SC: “Isn’t that terrible?”
I’m inclined to agree, yes.
SC: “So what number do I call to reach Chino?”
I have no idea who or what a “Chino” is or where you might reach him. Please stop calling.
SC: “All I want to do is hum a song into his voicemail.”
How romantic. Did you have any particular song in mind? Or were you just going to go with one of the classics such as “Prelude To A Restraining Order ( In D Minor )”?
SC: “That’s okay. I’ll press the digits.”
I really wish you wouldn’t. That’s how we ended up with this problem in the first place. Isn’t there a nice bus stop or park bench somewhere you could be sleeping this off at?
SC: “I’ll try this again, we will not talk again. If we do I owe you dinner.”
What a coincidence! That’s actually the opening chorus of “Prelude To A Restraining Order ( In D Minor )”.
For The Love of Chino: Part III
SC: “Oh. Me again. So do you know Chino?”
No, no I don’t. Trust me if I did, I would do everything in my power to put you in connect with him if only so you’d leave me alone.
SC: “I’m going to hang up the phone and go to bed.”
Thank you, Jeebus.
SC: “But you know what? I think it’s excellent that you stay awake all night.”
Well, I’m glad you approve random drunk lady. Coming from you, that means a lot.
SC: “You’re a good man, okay. I’m not going to call you again. I’m really proud of you for doing the night job.”
Well thank you. But flattering will get you nowhere. I still don’t know who “Chino” is.
SC: “That’s a hard job to do. I’m going to hang up the phone now. You know what? I’m not totally stupid.”
Only partially stupid. Right, got it. Glad we cleared up then!
SC: “I might give you a recommendation some time.”
Oh, would you? That would be awesome! “Drunken woman at a payphone outside of a YMCA” would look really good on my resume.
SC: “Hold down the fort, buddy. Hold down the fort!”
It’s not a “fort”, ma’am. It’s “Moonbase Beaver”, thank you very much.
Dude Looks Like A Lady
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yep!”
Me: “What is your name please, sir?”
SC: “…uhhhhhhh……..I’d….like to place an order?”
Me: “But what is your name please?”
SC: “My name? Uhhhhh…..I’ll use…..Monica!”
A brilliant plan, sir! However, as clever a rouse as this is, it’s somewhat hampered by the fact you said it out.
Me: “………sorry, what was your name?”
SC: “Monica”
Me: “….That’s your name?”
SC: “That’s my name, yeah.”
Me: “….That’s not someone else’s name?”
SC: “….um....Yeah.”
Come on now, we both know the jig is up. In fact the jig was never exactly down to begin with. You are very, very bad at the jig. You should be embarrassed at even having attempted the jig. Please, never try to jig again.
Me: “Are you trying to order in someone else's name?”
SC: “……….Yeah.”
Me: “May I speak with them then, please?”
SC: “Okay.”
Good boy.
Isengard
Me: “Anything else, ma’am?”
SC: “Yeessss. I want mooore.”
Alright ma’am, but please keep in mind I’m only here to sell apparel and footwear. I don’t know which way the Hobbits went.
Me: “And what size?”
SC: “Medium”
Me: “And what colour would you like?”
SC: “………..”
Orchid. It’s orchid isn’t it? There’s only two colours and orchid is the one that would stump someone at a 2nd grade reading level.
SC: “………O…."
Orchid. Orchid. Or-chid. Say it with me now. You can do it.
SC: “Our…cheed?”
…….Sure! Close enough.
Welcome!
SC: “I saw a pair of coyotes, is that something I need to report or is that just like hey, you live in BC now?”
Hey! You live in BC now.
Alright?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yes, I just got the picture of the lady with the red dress and the little white patches on it”
I'm sorry, sir. But is that code for “The drop will happen at midnight tonight at the docks. Make sure everyone’s in position.” Or “I have recently been consuming an alarming amount of prescription medication”?
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “Yes, it’s a Scotia Bank”
Prescription medication it is.
Me: “And your postal code please, sir?”
SC: “It’s um, 673.”
Me: “But what is your postal code first please?”
SC: “But I haven’t given you the name of the street yet.”
Me: “Yes, but I can pull up the city based on the postal code. So could I have that first please?”
SC: “So you want to know what?”
What I want to know is how you managed to cobble together enough of your wits to dial our phone number. What I need to know is your postal code.
Me: “And which credit card would you like to use?”
SC: “I’m mainly interested in a house.”
Sir, please ignore the other voice(s) you’re hearing and concentrate on mine. At least long enough to get us through this call. Then you can get back to mingling with the house guests that seem to be staying over this evening inside your head.
Me: “How many would you like?”
SC: “I haven’t bought any yet.”
Yes, that was kind of my point.
Espanol
SC: “Do you speak Spanish?”
Me: “No, sorry sir.”
SC: “<Starts speaking Spanish>”
I trust you were just ensuring I wouldn’t be able to understand all the unpleasant things you were about to say about my mother.
Educational
Me: “And how do you spell that, please?”
SC: “B as in Baobab”
I can confidently say I have absolutely no idea what this. If you’d like to hold for a moment I would be quite happy to look it up so that I can grasp what in the world it is you’re talking about. Let’s see…..ah, here we are. A genus of tree native to Madagascar. Known for its fire resistant and tasty fruit referred to as “Monkey Bread” by the locals.
Well, I have learned something new today. Thank you, I think.
Tricksome
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “………um………………….let me see if I can figure it out…”
I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s such a gotcha question. I really should stop asking it.
Darkness Falls
SC: “Let me give you the item number……..wait, I need that flash light so I can see this”
Alright, I give up. How is it you have a working phone, but no electricity? I’m genuinely curious. Can you simply not afford electricity due to a crippling hat habit you can only feed by ordering from us in the dead of night? Did you never have electricity to begin with but found an iPhone on the body of the last Canada Post employee that tried to deliver something that far north but didn’t quite make it? Or is there some reason you have to keep the lights out?
Is that it? Are you hiding from something? Is it drawn to light? Does the whole village live a life of terror under the unceasing appetite of Aguluktuk the Fearwalker? An ancient one-eyed man eating polar bear who has ruled the tundra since ancestral times? ….and your crippling hat addition is putting you in danger as we speak because the light from the iPhone will surely attract his terrible gaze? That’s it, isn’t it?
Well, ma’am. The good news is I have everything you want in stock. The bad news is it will take 2 weeks to arrive and you’ll surely be dragged off into the night long before that after you discover Angry Birds.
I Concur
Me: “Good evening, <tech support>”
SC: “Yes, I want a large ham and pineapple pizza”
Oh man, yeah, I could totally go for that too. We should order out or something.
Determination
Me: “And the item number please, ma’am?”
SC: “5555”
Me: “I’m afraid that one is completely out of stock.”
SC: “Not even large or extra large?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
That’s kind of what “out of stock” means, yes. There are none left. Not a one. Nothing. Nodda. Zero. Where they use to be in the warehouse is only a bare, lonely expanse of shelf with a few tufts of cobweb rolling by like tumbleweeds on the cool breeze from the air conditioner.
SC: “Could you check another item number?”
Me: “Alright, what’s the number please?”
SC: “5555”
Me: “That one was out of stock, ma’am”
SC: “Even large and extra large?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am, that’s the same item as before.”
Asking the question a second time will not magically change the reality of the situation. This is not a trick, ma’am. There are no hats left. Not even in large or extra large. We do not have that hat. If you are truly so desperate to hide the shame of your forehead, please refer to the rest of the catalog. I am quite positive it still contains a virtual cornucopia of headwear that you can use to cover your limited cranial mass.
SC: “Is this item available??”
Me: “Which number, please?”
SC: “It was 5555”
Me: “No, that one is not available ma’am. That's the same number again.”
SC: “There’s none available? Nothing?”
Me: “No, I don’t have that one in stock.”
I know it’s difficult for you to go on living in a world where your alarmingly soft head can’t be lovingly cradled by a $60 baseball cap. But you’re going to have to grit your teeth and move on, ma’am. It just wasn’t meant to be. At this point you’re just wasting both our time. I’m sure we both have better things we could be doing at this point. I have other calls I could be answering. You, I’m sure, have an open can of paint somewhere in a poorly ventilated room you need to get back too.
Amy
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Amy. It's A-M-......uhhhh......no wait....”
Can do, ma’am. You take as long as you need to figure it out. I mean its only the name you’ve had since birth it’s not like you use it often. So I can understand your confusion. So if you need a hint or anything, just let me know. I’ll be right over here. In fact, tell you what: The first one’s on the house. There’s an “Y” in there somewhere. Hope that helps. Good luck!
Me: “And your phone number please, ma’am?”
SC: “I don’t have a phone number. Do you need one?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Okay, can I use my cell instead?”
So, in other words: “I don’t have a phone number, can I just use my phone number instead?”. You know, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m sincerely having my doubts as to whether or not you can actually pay for your order. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you do in fact have money. It’s just your total comes to well over $300 dollars and I sincerely doubt you’re capable of counting that high when it comes time to pay for it at the post office. Seeing as you only have 10, possibly 11 fingers to work with.
Naturally
Problem:
- One of the other tenants is some guy you met like 15 years ago and now he’s having his girlfriend spread rumours about you to your neighbours about you walking around naked in the hallways.
Solution:
- Call building maintenance at 5 in morning.
Sharing Is Caring(?)
SC: “Yeah, there’s no water in my toilet and that’s a real problem because I had to do a #2”.
Thank you for sharing, ma’am. In the future I would like, if at all possible, to never hear a sentence end in “because I had to do a #2” on a call ever again. But alas I fear that now that you’ve set a precedence, my hopes will be dashed on a fairly regular basis.
The Greatest Challenge
Tonight I learned that there is truly no greater challenge in this life or the next than trying to explain a money transfer to a pothead. I tried, oh sweet Jeebus I tried. But it was simply not meant to be. No matter what you say or do, someone stoned off their gourd on happy herb is incapable of grasping any financial transaction more complex than the one that got him the happy herb in the first place. Thus my hazy caller simply could not grasp that there was no where he could go and just slip me the money in the middle of the night. Presumably in a poorly lit Walmart parking lot within walking distance of a Taco Bell.
Eh, Why Not?
Me: “Good evening, <tech support>?”
SC: “Do you guys have karaoke?”
Not officially, but if you like you could come over and give it a shot anyway. We could use the entertainment. Just make sure you buzz the intercom downstairs so we can hear your “performance”. You can’t come in of course. The steps will have to be your stage. But rest assured you are on a security camera so we won’t miss any of the finer nuances of your talent. I’m afraid we can’t offer refreshments, but there should be a few spare cigarette butts littered around down there if you if you like. I don’t smoke myself so I haven’t tried them, but they seem quite popular with a wide range of colourful individuals that stop by to root around at night.
I Do?
SC: “Are you in India?”
Me: “No, sir."
SC: “Well you sound like you’re from India.”
I suppose I do, sir. That is provided everything you know about India was derived from a skit on Saturday Night Live. Otherwise not so much, no.
Heil Spelling
Me: “How do you spell that please, sir?”
SC: “H as in Hitler-“
Whoa, whoa. Okay, stop. That…was probably a bad choice on your part. But okay, I put you on the spot. You had to think of something quick and the worst thing imaginable managed to make it to your mouth before your brain kicked in. Fair enough, let’s just forget it and move on.
SC: “A as in America, H as in Hitler”
Dude, okay, seriously. There has to be something better you could use there. Hungry? Hamburger? Henry? Heck, I’ll even accept Honky Tonk. Just ease up on the Third Reich a little. That’s all I’m asking.
SC: “I as in India, H as in Hitler”
Dude.
Think About It
SC: “I can’t hear you. Can I go and switch to my hard of hearing phone? I have hearing loss.”
……That really begs an obvious question. I’m sure you can tell what it is if you stop and think for a moment.
Leviathan
Picture if you will: A client, nay, a phone bearing creature so awe inspiring, so persistent in its rage that it would cause the Asia support centre to call us, internationally, to plead for our assistance. An unrelenting leviathan that called them over and over and over for over 2 hours straight. Refusing to be diverted or satiated by their pleas for mercy. Until finally refusing outright to get off the line until its demands were met. Causing a traumatized survivor to phone us over here to see if there was something, anything we could do to help them.
Sadly, we could not offer them much in the way of respite. As the juggernaut at their gates was trying to reach a third call center that neither we nor they had a phone number for. But there was a faint ray of hope for them. Our engineer was able to find and present a possible phone number by which to divert the beast’s ire. I passed the number along and they clamored for every digit in hopeful desperation.
I have not heard from them since. I can only hope this means the plan was successful, and not that the behemoth finally made landfall and reduced their call centre to tears and rubble. For if that was their fate, then it is only a matter of time before it manages to cross the pacific and reach us here. If we’re lucky, Vancouver Island will slow it down long enough for us to escape.
It Might, Yes
SC: “I’ve been mopping this up for hours. I think it might be a serious problem.”
You know, I don’t mean to question your judgment or anything, but the average person would have mopped up a flood for all of 5 minutes before going “Oh to heck with this!” and calling for assistance. I admire your perseverance at trying to mop up a broken pipe for hours but really, you should have clued in hours ago when you noticed the mop wasn’t magically stopping the water. Your bravery at trying to stem the onslaught of the aqua horde is admirable, sir. But you sound like the sort of person that would solve his shirt burning by rolling up his sleeves instead of taking his arm out of the campfire.
Dammit, Josh
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “HAVE YOU SEEN MY WALLET, JOSH?!”
Upstairs, second bedroom on the left in the laundry hamper in the right back pocket of your jeans. No, no, not those jeans. The other ones. The ones with the rip in the knee that smell like kerosene. But you won’t throw out because the blond cashier you have a crush on at 7/11 once said they made your butt look cute. Yeah, those ones. There you go.
annnnd rest. Thank you, and goodnight. -.-
But enough doom and gloom, if am I to go out, it will be with a bang. So brace yourselves for some odd 2-3 months worth of pure, unadulterated idiocracy that I've been saving.... >.>
Negotiation
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Uh, um, uhhh, um…ummm….uh…..okay. <click>”
Good, I’m glad we could come to an agreement.
I'm Here To Help
Me: “And which catalog would you like to order from?”
SC: “Ummmmmm………….this one.”
You know, it alarms me how often I have to explain this: But I can’t see through the phone at what you’re referring too. The phone receiver is strictly audio only. It isn’t a viewport of any nature, nor am I actually a tiny phone gnome inside of it peering outwards in awe.
Me: “There should be a catalog number on the back”
SC: “I have to go find the back page”
Me: “Alright, well, what does it say on the front?”
SC: “……………………what's front?”
Front, sir. Front. The front. You know. The thing that points forward. Hmmm. How do I explain this so you can understand.....alright, your front is the direction your nipples are currently pointing.
I hope that helps.
I Take What I Can Get
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Sara”
Me: “S-A-R-A?”
SC: “You’re good.”
Why thank you. It’s taken years of careful practice to hone the ability to spell overly common first names. Sara is an especially tricky one you know, I mean it has three entirely different letters. That’s some hardcore shit right there. I mean, Christ, there's even a vowel.
Me: “Alright, and you’re in <city>?”
SC: “GOD you’re good!”
I’m beginning to suspect you’re patronizing me, ma’am. But none the less, I shall bask in your misguided, possibly insincere praise. For I am shallow and desperate for approval.
Online
Me: “And which catalog do you have there?”
SC: “Oh, I’m on the website.”
Me: “Alright, what’s the product number then please?”
SC: “……How do you get online?”
I think you may be somewhat confused as to the definition of being “on” a website. You can’t exactly get on a website if you’re not online to begin with. So unless you’re some sort of arctic neuromancer who can pull data from the ether with the wifi hotspot of their mind, I’m going to assume you’re a bit mixed up. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.
You see, when someone says they are “on” a website they mean they have loaded the website with their web browsing software. They don’t mean they have turned to the page in the catalog that mentions the website and then sat on top of it. While this would technically mean you were “on” the website in an abstract fashion, you would not actually be able to browse the website in this manner. This is mainly because your rectum incapable of performing a DNS look up.
It's A Gift
Me: “Will that be by cheque, credit card or COD?”
SC: “…..Ummmmm…….”
If you have to think about it, the answer is “COD”. Trust me on this one. I have years of experience navigating the alarmingly shadow waters on this line. Even if you don’t know exactly what you want or what’s going on, I do. Rest assured that regardless of your slackened wits I can make some sense of your attempts to communicate. Even if no one else can.
I am the Dunce Whisperer.
Okay, Maybe Not
Me: “And what size?”
SC: “Olive.”
…….Okay, even the Dunce Whisperer needs a hint now and then.
Thanks?
SC: “I’m just calling to correct your pronunciation.”
O…okay?
SC: “This is the second time I’ve had to do this!”
You’ve called not once, but twice, to angrily complain that someone on the TV pronounced something wrong? Don’t take this the wrong way, ma’am, but has anyone ever suggested you might need hobby? Or perhaps some sort of sedatives?
SC: “So I hope you’ll get that message to somebody. Maybe your supervisor.”
Oh, don’t worry ma’am. I’ll see to it that my superiors are duly informed that a lady yelled at me because someone pronounced a word wrong during a 3am infomercial. Of that much you can rest assured.
We're Branching Out
Me: “And what colour would you like?”
SC: “Oh, you have colours?”
Not normally, no. Normally everything we sell is one unified, depressingly bleak shade of grey. But we’re taking a chance on this “Red” thing we keep hearing all the kids talking about these days. So please, by all means give it a try and let us know what you think. This is a bold move for us and the shareholders are uneasy.
Oh God
Oh, and if you cough on the Skytrain and your candy falls out of your mouth, just let it go, man. Whatever you do, do not reach down, pick it up and put it back in your mouth. The 5 second rule does not apply to any surface on a public transit vehicle. I’ve been riding the Skytrain for 14 years and I assure you every square inch of it is covered in unspeakable pestilence. Which you have just put back into your mouth. My condolences to your family and may your impending passing be swift and merciful.
Cheers!
C: “Shorry, I ain’t too clear. I’m soakin’ my Hollywood smile!”
…I must admit I have never heard that saying before. But it is one of the classiest euphemisms for intoxication I have ever heard. So on behalf of the staff of <company> let me just say: Rock on, sir.
Numb3rs
Me: “And the product number please, sir?”
SC: “…..uhhhh………uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……I can’t find any………there are none on this page…..”
I can state with some confidence that there in fact numbers on that page and every page of the catalog. Therefore your inability to locate one is due in part or in whole to user error. In which case, I would urge you to attempt one or more of the following solutions: A) Turn on the lights. B) Turn the catalog right side up. C) Stop trying to find a number on the cat and put it down.
Halloween Round Up
It's pretty hard to look cool in your costume while wearing an umbrella, but many still tried over the course of the weekend. Some with more success than others......
Mortal Transit:
There’s nothing quite like seeing Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat desperately trying to explain to two transit cops why he doesn’t have a transfer on him.
Superfriends ( The Later Years ):
For those of looking to pull off the perfect superhero costume this Halloween, let me give you two quick pointers. Number 1) Niether Spiderman nor Superman had a beer gut. Number 2) There are certain…let’s say “physiques”….that should simply not be combined spandex under any circumstances. Especially not on public transit.
Sad Panda:
In an elaborate full body panda suit worthy of Chucky Cheese no less. This depressed creature was spotted not once, but twice. Once on the platform at Granville with a look on his face that clearly said “My girlfriend made me wear this.”. Then again out on Granville street, with the costume half off, arguing with his girlfriend over why he should wear this when all she had was a pair of cat ears. Poor Sad Panda.
Sadder Panda:
Wanna be a panda? Well, my friend, you are just a pair of black jeans and an untucked white dress shirt away from embracing the animal kingdom.
Pikachewed:
Poor Pikachu, he didn’t bring an umbrella and if the condition of his costume was any indication, he walked here from Surrey. Through a swamp.
Crazy Socks:
Colourful crazy socks. This seems to be this year’s “I want to go to a Halloween party but not actually spend any money on a costume” option. Just throw on weird or mismatched socks. Boom! You’ve got a costume(?). Dressed as, er, someone whose…colourblind? There were no less than 7 incidents of Crazy Socks on my way here. Moving in packs.
Petulant Pixie:
Have an adorable fairy costume? Want to get into character? Why then, you should storm up to the construction workers on <street> and scream obscenities at them for closing the road. Because when people think Tinkerbell, they think “angry drunk sailor”.
The Sultan of Cats & His Harem:
This bunch was on the train when I got on. One guy dressed as a sultan, but with cat ears sticking through his hat. With 3 female companions dressed as veiled Arabian dancers……also with cat ears.
Alf:
A little tip for those of you going all out this Halloween. If you’re going to wear a full body suit covered in fur you’d best pack an umbrella. Otherwise you’re going to be one sad, sad Alf by the time you make it to the Skytrain. Panting and wheezing because your costume is a giant, wet heavy towel. Luckily for you, your costume started to dry out a little bit by Broadway. Unlucky for us, it started to make the whole Skytrain smell like wet dog.
The Beverage of Evil:
Turns out Warlocks and Necromancers drink Coke Zero. I think I missed my calling.
Miraculous Zombies:
Again people, umbrellas. Do you know what happens to zombies that don’t bring an umbrella? Their face melts and they miraculously come back to life! Then spend the rest of the night telling people they’re dressed as a hobo.
Hobo-Kitty:
Speaking of hobos……but with cat ears. There must have been a sale somewhere.
I’m A Bag Of Doritos!:
Yes, yes you are. I admire the fact you went the extra 9 yards and strapped a giant foam nacho to your head too. But I’m a little unsettled that your ass has a Nutritional Information label.
???!?!:
What do you get when you throw on a tattered dress then glue 4 layers of tattered rags to it then throw a fake bear pelt over that then add giant furry big foot slippers, a towel over your head and a sword? I have absolutely no idea and I’d really appreciate a hint if you have a moment.
The Joker:
Does not have a beard.
Elvis:
Also does not have a beard.
Lucky Charms:
Beloved cereal mascots should not be trying to pick up women at a crosswalk. They should also not be using a guy in a blue velvet tux as a wingman if they want any measurable success at scoring a date.
Delicate Tarzan:
Tarzan costumes don’t exactly work when you still have to wear a sweater and jeans under them. Just a heads up.
Men In Black:
I don’t have a costume, but I do have a tux from my prom that still fits and some sunglasses!
The Wandering Dead:
Zombies have poor navigational skills. Luckily, despite being dead, they’re still coherent enough to ask me for directions.
Cold & Sexy:
Once more, say it with me now: Umbrellas. Especially if you’ve chosen one of the endless skimpy costume variations of Sexy <Insert Profession>. Otherwise Sexy Nurse, Sexy French Maid and Sexy Kitty are going to be huddled under a bus shelter cursing their lack of foresight.
Where’s Waldo:
Everywhere! I spotted him three times on the way here and then again working at <store>. He’s really lost his touch these days. Poor sod. Also, he smelled like….pickles. A lot like pickles. Like “I saw someone change seats on the Skytrain to get upwind” a lot like pickles.
Masked Bandit:
Just a helpful hint here for all of you lads thinking of skimping on your costume this year; Wearing just a cheap mask with a hooded sweatshirt does not say “I am dressed up for Halloween”. It says “Attention police officers, I am probably about to commit a felony. You may wish to question me vigorously at your earliest opportunity.”
Discount Tigger:
The affordable thing about Tiggers, is Tiggers are affordable things! Their tops are made out of cheap imported plastic! Their bottoms were undoubtedly purchased at the last minute from a nearby dollar store to avoid being the one dweeb that showed up at the party without a costume! You might want to take the price tag off there, dude. It’s on your back, on your left shoulder.
Mermaids:
Are a rather sad sight when they need an umbrella.
The Hog:
Do you know who rides public transit at night wearing just flannel and a pig mask, sir? Serial killers, that’s who. I’m not sure if you’re dressed up for Halloween or if this is the only night you can move about unnoticed by the authorities.
Viking Hoard:
A peculiar raiding party of Japanese Vikings boarded the Skytrain at Broadway. They were really quite polite though and didn’t even plunder anything. Very nice of them.
Officer Sexy Nurse:
Yes, that’s right. Officer Sexy Nurse. Skimpy nurse’s outfit, but a police officer’s hat and handcuffs. Because when you’re going to accessorize, you may as well go all out.
Luigi & Robin:
Both sidekicks. Both overshadowed by their more popular partner. Both seen together in the liquor store purchasing enough booze to bring down an elk. I assume they’re off to drown their sorrows as neither was invited to the awesome party Mario and Batman are at.
Canine Trio:
Three guys, all wearing the same dog mask and no other visible costume pieces. Just dog masks. I’m going to assume they’re actually notorious bank robbers. I’m also going to assume they sprung a flat on the way to the job and had to catch the Skytrain.
Wormhead & Sexy Pumpkin:
Miss, you have a giant worm coming out of your head. No other costume. Just….a giant foam worm coming out of your head. I thought perhaps you were dressed as, say, an apple? But my reasoning was dashed by the fact you’re wearing green, not red. I can only surmise you’re not actually aware you have a worm coming out of your head. In which case you may wish to ask your friend, Sexy ( Literal ) Pumpkin, why she’s purposefully ignoring it.
Superpimp!:
Yes, Superpimp. He even had a cape and chest emblem. He was wandering down the street towards the office with Catwoman and a Cow Girl in tow. Well, perhaps wandering is not the right term. Strutting, definitely strutting.
CTRL ALT DEL
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHH”
This caller has performed an illegal operation and will shut down.
Caller caused an invalid page fault in BASICINFO.EXE at 0147:0041f71. If the problem persists, please hang up and disregard.
Nobody Loves Me
SC: “Yeah, good evening. Um, this is the second time I’ve called this number. Is this an escort service?”
Why yes, yes it is, sir and I must admit I’m somewhat hurt! On your first call you said my coworker was beautiful and invited her out for a drink. Yet when I picked up the line you couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day. Am I not pretty enough for you? Is that it? Well, I’ll have you know I have a great personality and I could get a great guy if I wanted too. I don’t need the likes of you.
You men are all alike! (sob)
The Loop
Me: “And what size would you like?”
SC: “They’re for me son.”
Me: “Alright, but what size?”
SC: “Size 8 would be too big for him.”
I appreciate you trying to keep me in the loop, ma’am, but there’s really no need for you to vocalize your entire thought process. Simply let me know when, or if, you ever arrive at a conclusion. I can wait, it’s alright. Just be sure to emit a periodical, dull witted “uuuuhhhhhh” to let me know you’re still processing.
Doggy
SC: “This is an ongoing problem! The doggy bakery is baking doggy biscuits!”
…..Truly this is a crisis of unparalleled proportions.
SC: “They shouldn’t be baking at this time of night!”
But ma’am, if the doggy bakery doesn’t start baking doggy biscuits early then there won’t be any doggy biscuits for the doggies at the doggy bakery. What good is a doggy bakery that doesn’t have doggy biscuits? Do you want disappointed doggies at the doggy biscuit-less doggy bakery, ma’am? Do you?
Doggy.
Whoa
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “Oh man…..I don’t even know if we have a phone here. I’ve never seen one around.”
Alright, sir, it’s okay. Just relax. Now, before I say anything else, I want you to remain calm. Please be assured this is not a trick and I am not a wizard of any sort. Alright? Alright. Now, very slowly, take your hand away from your head and hold it up in front of you. Got it? Okay, good. Now, look at what you’re holding.
I trust I have just blown your mind.
Painful Memories
Me: “Would you like an order number?”
SC: “Not particularly, but fine let me get a pen”
It seems I have offended you, ma’am. Please rest assured that was not my intention. I fully apologize for suggesting you write down a number. It was very insensitive of me. I didn’t know your husband was tragically killed by a number last summer. It must be very difficult to see his killer’s face everywhere you turn. What with 4 being part of our area code and all. Every page of the phonebook must be a painful reminder of his untimely fate.
Please?
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “……uhhhhhh…….”
Can I please just politely terminate calls at this point? Pretty please? It’s never a good sign. If they can’t pass the litmus test of verbally identifying themselves, it’s quite doubtful they’re going to make it through the rest of the call. Even if they do, they’ll probably attempt to pay for the order with an assortment of bottlecaps, shiny pebbles and McDonald’s Monopoly game pieces.
Me: “And your postal code, please?”
SC: “…wha?”
Me: “Your postal code, please, ma’am?”
SC: “uhhhhhh.”
…..please?
SC: “….uhh……I’ll just call back tomorrow. I can’t make up my mind.”
Of course. I mean, why would you call to place an order if you actually knew what you wanted to order? That’s crazy talk. Clearly you need an operator on the line for moral support before you attempt to open the catalog. Shopping is dangerous, you know. You need a spotter. Especially when a catalog is involved. I mean, my God, do you know how many lives Sears has claimed over the years?
Dude Beer
I rode down town this evening with a gentlemen by the name of “Dude Beer” next to me. I don’t know who he was, or how he was ordained such a majestic title. But who am I to question someone that spelled “Dude Beer” on the back of his hat with hot glue and refrigerator magnets?
Susan
Me: “And your address please, sir?”
SC: “<address>, I wear size 9. Men’s medium. Favourite colour is blue.”
You’re a Virgo, you enjoy long walks on the beach, dancing and theatre; You’re looking for a strong, old fashion gentlemen with a great sense of humour and a successful career? I think you may have written down the number from a completely different commercial, sir. But if you like, the <charity> would be quite appreciative of $4.99/minute donation if you want to chat for a while.
Heck, you know what? It’s for a good cause. I’ll even let you call me Susan.
Diabolical Plans
Me: “Are you calling from BC?”
SC: “Yes, are you in BC?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “Oh, okay. I didn’t know if maybe you were out of the country.”
Of course we’re in BC, sir. Where else would we be? We are certainly in no way located deep underground in a clandestine bunker referred too internally only by the codename “Moonbase Beaver”. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to refill the generator and get my daily Power Bar ration. The Overseer gets upset when you're tardy.
Just FYI
It’s 2:30am eastern and North Carolina would like us to know that while its really late, and it’s probably had a few drinks, it thinks our loose fit jeans are “really purdy”. North Carolina then slipped us its phone number and winked.
For The Love of Chino
SC: “Don’t worry buddy, it’s not an emergency. I'm just looking for Chino.”
Well, if you say so ma’am! Who am I to argue with a blood alcohol content of 0.15%?
SC: “I’m in a place that makes loud noises. It’s not your fault.”
Yes, it is rather difficult to make out what you’re saying. You should ask Captain Morgan and Jack Daniels to try and keep it down a bit. You really shouldn’t be inviting them over this late, let alone letting them stay this long. They’re pretty bad company to have around when you’re trying to use the phone.
SC: “You have a great night and you’ve done nothing wrong. You’re doing fine, fine, fine, fine.”
I appreciate your vote of confidence on my job performance, ma’am. It’s nice to know I’m receiving high marks from the “drunk dialing her ex on a Saturday night” demographic.
For The Love of Chino: Part II
SC: “We spoke before, right?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am.”
SC: “Isn’t that terrible?”
I’m inclined to agree, yes.
SC: “So what number do I call to reach Chino?”
I have no idea who or what a “Chino” is or where you might reach him. Please stop calling.
SC: “All I want to do is hum a song into his voicemail.”
How romantic. Did you have any particular song in mind? Or were you just going to go with one of the classics such as “Prelude To A Restraining Order ( In D Minor )”?
SC: “That’s okay. I’ll press the digits.”
I really wish you wouldn’t. That’s how we ended up with this problem in the first place. Isn’t there a nice bus stop or park bench somewhere you could be sleeping this off at?
SC: “I’ll try this again, we will not talk again. If we do I owe you dinner.”
What a coincidence! That’s actually the opening chorus of “Prelude To A Restraining Order ( In D Minor )”.
For The Love of Chino: Part III
SC: “Oh. Me again. So do you know Chino?”
No, no I don’t. Trust me if I did, I would do everything in my power to put you in connect with him if only so you’d leave me alone.
SC: “I’m going to hang up the phone and go to bed.”
Thank you, Jeebus.
SC: “But you know what? I think it’s excellent that you stay awake all night.”
Well, I’m glad you approve random drunk lady. Coming from you, that means a lot.
SC: “You’re a good man, okay. I’m not going to call you again. I’m really proud of you for doing the night job.”
Well thank you. But flattering will get you nowhere. I still don’t know who “Chino” is.
SC: “That’s a hard job to do. I’m going to hang up the phone now. You know what? I’m not totally stupid.”
Only partially stupid. Right, got it. Glad we cleared up then!
SC: “I might give you a recommendation some time.”
Oh, would you? That would be awesome! “Drunken woman at a payphone outside of a YMCA” would look really good on my resume.
SC: “Hold down the fort, buddy. Hold down the fort!”
It’s not a “fort”, ma’am. It’s “Moonbase Beaver”, thank you very much.
Dude Looks Like A Lady
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yep!”
Me: “What is your name please, sir?”
SC: “…uhhhhhhh……..I’d….like to place an order?”
Me: “But what is your name please?”
SC: “My name? Uhhhhh…..I’ll use…..Monica!”
A brilliant plan, sir! However, as clever a rouse as this is, it’s somewhat hampered by the fact you said it out.
Me: “………sorry, what was your name?”
SC: “Monica”
Me: “….That’s your name?”
SC: “That’s my name, yeah.”
Me: “….That’s not someone else’s name?”
SC: “….um....Yeah.”
Come on now, we both know the jig is up. In fact the jig was never exactly down to begin with. You are very, very bad at the jig. You should be embarrassed at even having attempted the jig. Please, never try to jig again.
Me: “Are you trying to order in someone else's name?”
SC: “……….Yeah.”
Me: “May I speak with them then, please?”
SC: “Okay.”
Good boy.
Isengard
Me: “Anything else, ma’am?”
SC: “Yeessss. I want mooore.”
Alright ma’am, but please keep in mind I’m only here to sell apparel and footwear. I don’t know which way the Hobbits went.
Me: “And what size?”
SC: “Medium”
Me: “And what colour would you like?”
SC: “………..”
Orchid. It’s orchid isn’t it? There’s only two colours and orchid is the one that would stump someone at a 2nd grade reading level.
SC: “………O…."
Orchid. Orchid. Or-chid. Say it with me now. You can do it.
SC: “Our…cheed?”
…….Sure! Close enough.
Welcome!
SC: “I saw a pair of coyotes, is that something I need to report or is that just like hey, you live in BC now?”
Hey! You live in BC now.
Alright?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yes, I just got the picture of the lady with the red dress and the little white patches on it”
I'm sorry, sir. But is that code for “The drop will happen at midnight tonight at the docks. Make sure everyone’s in position.” Or “I have recently been consuming an alarming amount of prescription medication”?
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “Yes, it’s a Scotia Bank”
Prescription medication it is.
Me: “And your postal code please, sir?”
SC: “It’s um, 673.”
Me: “But what is your postal code first please?”
SC: “But I haven’t given you the name of the street yet.”
Me: “Yes, but I can pull up the city based on the postal code. So could I have that first please?”
SC: “So you want to know what?”
What I want to know is how you managed to cobble together enough of your wits to dial our phone number. What I need to know is your postal code.
Me: “And which credit card would you like to use?”
SC: “I’m mainly interested in a house.”
Sir, please ignore the other voice(s) you’re hearing and concentrate on mine. At least long enough to get us through this call. Then you can get back to mingling with the house guests that seem to be staying over this evening inside your head.
Me: “How many would you like?”
SC: “I haven’t bought any yet.”
Yes, that was kind of my point.
Espanol
SC: “Do you speak Spanish?”
Me: “No, sorry sir.”
SC: “<Starts speaking Spanish>”
I trust you were just ensuring I wouldn’t be able to understand all the unpleasant things you were about to say about my mother.
Educational
Me: “And how do you spell that, please?”
SC: “B as in Baobab”
I can confidently say I have absolutely no idea what this. If you’d like to hold for a moment I would be quite happy to look it up so that I can grasp what in the world it is you’re talking about. Let’s see…..ah, here we are. A genus of tree native to Madagascar. Known for its fire resistant and tasty fruit referred to as “Monkey Bread” by the locals.
Well, I have learned something new today. Thank you, I think.
Tricksome
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “………um………………….let me see if I can figure it out…”
I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s such a gotcha question. I really should stop asking it.
Darkness Falls
SC: “Let me give you the item number……..wait, I need that flash light so I can see this”
Alright, I give up. How is it you have a working phone, but no electricity? I’m genuinely curious. Can you simply not afford electricity due to a crippling hat habit you can only feed by ordering from us in the dead of night? Did you never have electricity to begin with but found an iPhone on the body of the last Canada Post employee that tried to deliver something that far north but didn’t quite make it? Or is there some reason you have to keep the lights out?
Is that it? Are you hiding from something? Is it drawn to light? Does the whole village live a life of terror under the unceasing appetite of Aguluktuk the Fearwalker? An ancient one-eyed man eating polar bear who has ruled the tundra since ancestral times? ….and your crippling hat addition is putting you in danger as we speak because the light from the iPhone will surely attract his terrible gaze? That’s it, isn’t it?
Well, ma’am. The good news is I have everything you want in stock. The bad news is it will take 2 weeks to arrive and you’ll surely be dragged off into the night long before that after you discover Angry Birds.
I Concur
Me: “Good evening, <tech support>”
SC: “Yes, I want a large ham and pineapple pizza”
Oh man, yeah, I could totally go for that too. We should order out or something.
Determination
Me: “And the item number please, ma’am?”
SC: “5555”
Me: “I’m afraid that one is completely out of stock.”
SC: “Not even large or extra large?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
That’s kind of what “out of stock” means, yes. There are none left. Not a one. Nothing. Nodda. Zero. Where they use to be in the warehouse is only a bare, lonely expanse of shelf with a few tufts of cobweb rolling by like tumbleweeds on the cool breeze from the air conditioner.
SC: “Could you check another item number?”
Me: “Alright, what’s the number please?”
SC: “5555”
Me: “That one was out of stock, ma’am”
SC: “Even large and extra large?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am, that’s the same item as before.”
Asking the question a second time will not magically change the reality of the situation. This is not a trick, ma’am. There are no hats left. Not even in large or extra large. We do not have that hat. If you are truly so desperate to hide the shame of your forehead, please refer to the rest of the catalog. I am quite positive it still contains a virtual cornucopia of headwear that you can use to cover your limited cranial mass.
SC: “Is this item available??”
Me: “Which number, please?”
SC: “It was 5555”
Me: “No, that one is not available ma’am. That's the same number again.”
SC: “There’s none available? Nothing?”
Me: “No, I don’t have that one in stock.”
I know it’s difficult for you to go on living in a world where your alarmingly soft head can’t be lovingly cradled by a $60 baseball cap. But you’re going to have to grit your teeth and move on, ma’am. It just wasn’t meant to be. At this point you’re just wasting both our time. I’m sure we both have better things we could be doing at this point. I have other calls I could be answering. You, I’m sure, have an open can of paint somewhere in a poorly ventilated room you need to get back too.
Amy
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Amy. It's A-M-......uhhhh......no wait....”
Can do, ma’am. You take as long as you need to figure it out. I mean its only the name you’ve had since birth it’s not like you use it often. So I can understand your confusion. So if you need a hint or anything, just let me know. I’ll be right over here. In fact, tell you what: The first one’s on the house. There’s an “Y” in there somewhere. Hope that helps. Good luck!
Me: “And your phone number please, ma’am?”
SC: “I don’t have a phone number. Do you need one?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Okay, can I use my cell instead?”
So, in other words: “I don’t have a phone number, can I just use my phone number instead?”. You know, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m sincerely having my doubts as to whether or not you can actually pay for your order. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you do in fact have money. It’s just your total comes to well over $300 dollars and I sincerely doubt you’re capable of counting that high when it comes time to pay for it at the post office. Seeing as you only have 10, possibly 11 fingers to work with.
Naturally
Problem:
- One of the other tenants is some guy you met like 15 years ago and now he’s having his girlfriend spread rumours about you to your neighbours about you walking around naked in the hallways.
Solution:
- Call building maintenance at 5 in morning.
Sharing Is Caring(?)
SC: “Yeah, there’s no water in my toilet and that’s a real problem because I had to do a #2”.
Thank you for sharing, ma’am. In the future I would like, if at all possible, to never hear a sentence end in “because I had to do a #2” on a call ever again. But alas I fear that now that you’ve set a precedence, my hopes will be dashed on a fairly regular basis.
The Greatest Challenge
Tonight I learned that there is truly no greater challenge in this life or the next than trying to explain a money transfer to a pothead. I tried, oh sweet Jeebus I tried. But it was simply not meant to be. No matter what you say or do, someone stoned off their gourd on happy herb is incapable of grasping any financial transaction more complex than the one that got him the happy herb in the first place. Thus my hazy caller simply could not grasp that there was no where he could go and just slip me the money in the middle of the night. Presumably in a poorly lit Walmart parking lot within walking distance of a Taco Bell.
Eh, Why Not?
Me: “Good evening, <tech support>?”
SC: “Do you guys have karaoke?”
Not officially, but if you like you could come over and give it a shot anyway. We could use the entertainment. Just make sure you buzz the intercom downstairs so we can hear your “performance”. You can’t come in of course. The steps will have to be your stage. But rest assured you are on a security camera so we won’t miss any of the finer nuances of your talent. I’m afraid we can’t offer refreshments, but there should be a few spare cigarette butts littered around down there if you if you like. I don’t smoke myself so I haven’t tried them, but they seem quite popular with a wide range of colourful individuals that stop by to root around at night.
I Do?
SC: “Are you in India?”
Me: “No, sir."
SC: “Well you sound like you’re from India.”
I suppose I do, sir. That is provided everything you know about India was derived from a skit on Saturday Night Live. Otherwise not so much, no.
Heil Spelling
Me: “How do you spell that please, sir?”
SC: “H as in Hitler-“
Whoa, whoa. Okay, stop. That…was probably a bad choice on your part. But okay, I put you on the spot. You had to think of something quick and the worst thing imaginable managed to make it to your mouth before your brain kicked in. Fair enough, let’s just forget it and move on.
SC: “A as in America, H as in Hitler”
Dude, okay, seriously. There has to be something better you could use there. Hungry? Hamburger? Henry? Heck, I’ll even accept Honky Tonk. Just ease up on the Third Reich a little. That’s all I’m asking.
SC: “I as in India, H as in Hitler”
Dude.
Think About It
SC: “I can’t hear you. Can I go and switch to my hard of hearing phone? I have hearing loss.”
……That really begs an obvious question. I’m sure you can tell what it is if you stop and think for a moment.
Leviathan
Picture if you will: A client, nay, a phone bearing creature so awe inspiring, so persistent in its rage that it would cause the Asia support centre to call us, internationally, to plead for our assistance. An unrelenting leviathan that called them over and over and over for over 2 hours straight. Refusing to be diverted or satiated by their pleas for mercy. Until finally refusing outright to get off the line until its demands were met. Causing a traumatized survivor to phone us over here to see if there was something, anything we could do to help them.
Sadly, we could not offer them much in the way of respite. As the juggernaut at their gates was trying to reach a third call center that neither we nor they had a phone number for. But there was a faint ray of hope for them. Our engineer was able to find and present a possible phone number by which to divert the beast’s ire. I passed the number along and they clamored for every digit in hopeful desperation.
I have not heard from them since. I can only hope this means the plan was successful, and not that the behemoth finally made landfall and reduced their call centre to tears and rubble. For if that was their fate, then it is only a matter of time before it manages to cross the pacific and reach us here. If we’re lucky, Vancouver Island will slow it down long enough for us to escape.
It Might, Yes
SC: “I’ve been mopping this up for hours. I think it might be a serious problem.”
You know, I don’t mean to question your judgment or anything, but the average person would have mopped up a flood for all of 5 minutes before going “Oh to heck with this!” and calling for assistance. I admire your perseverance at trying to mop up a broken pipe for hours but really, you should have clued in hours ago when you noticed the mop wasn’t magically stopping the water. Your bravery at trying to stem the onslaught of the aqua horde is admirable, sir. But you sound like the sort of person that would solve his shirt burning by rolling up his sleeves instead of taking his arm out of the campfire.
Dammit, Josh
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “HAVE YOU SEEN MY WALLET, JOSH?!”
Upstairs, second bedroom on the left in the laundry hamper in the right back pocket of your jeans. No, no, not those jeans. The other ones. The ones with the rip in the knee that smell like kerosene. But you won’t throw out because the blond cashier you have a crush on at 7/11 once said they made your butt look cute. Yeah, those ones. There you go.
annnnd rest. Thank you, and goodnight. -.-
Pleaaaase?
to you, GK -- with any luck, perhaps you won't have to spend quite so much of your hard-earned money on 
in the future.
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