Tweet
As mentioned I have several fun stories from the call center. This happens to be the crown jewel at the moment though, but buckle up, it's a long one.
We work in natural gas. I can't say what company, or what states we serve, but I can at least say that they're cold states, and one of the states has some of the most evil customers in the world. The latter state, which I will call "Vilegan"...no no that's too obvious, perhaps "Michisatan". Anyhow, we don't have much to do with this state since...well we just don't want to. Our technicians don't want to, no one wants to. Consequently, the techs will do the bare minimum, which is read your meter (sometimes) and turn your gas on or off (sometimes) and that's it, no more, no less. They will not even light a pilot light if they're in the area. Nothing.
Anyhow, I should defend myself from the title of this post. I am a proponant in the fight against mental illness stigmas, I fight stereotypes and myths about mental illness where ever I go. I myself suffer from a minor mental illnes, so I'm not meaning any of this in a derogatory way. Everything I mention is indeed the truth, and I am just explaining what happened. On to the story.
It was a slow, easy Sunday morning. This is the best time to work because everyone is either sleeping or in church. So I use this time to do homework, and I rarely, if ever, get calls during this time. However, I had noticed a large amount of activity on the phones around me this morning, this was extremely off considering the time, and I assumed perhaps there had been some major gas leak somewhere. However, I then noticed that everyone was talking about the same thing...or woman that is. I heard bits and pieces of the story, certain words like "crazy" and "unreasonable" reached my ears; however, I failed to heed this warning and take a break. Thus, it was my turn to take a call, and sure enough I got...her.
The call started off bad. First thing I hear is "Why you all stoled mah' pilot light?" naturally I was confused and asked her what she meant. Here's a general transcript, with some madness edited out for time:
Lady: "Why you all stoled mah' pilot light?"
Me: "I'm not sure what you mean, could you give me your account number so I could reference your account?"
Lady: "Don't act like yo' don' know what ah' mean. Why'd you stoled mah' pilot light?"
Me: "Calm down ma'am, who stole your pilot light?"
Lady: "YOU! YOU PEOPLE! YOU STOLED MAH' PILOT LIGHT!"
Me: "ma'am, we are located in [state far away from Vilegan] and there's no way we could steal anything from you."
Lady: "Oh! You're from [previously mentioned state] ? WELL! I've been there before, and I broke down, and all of the people that helped me were very nice, even though they were white!"
Me, wondering if she broke down mentally, or if it was her car: We're not being mean ma'am, I'm trying to help you, and I'll need some more information if I'm going to help you.
Lady: "Nuh'uh! You just all be hatin' on us! You know what? You all just a bunch of racist bigots there who be hatin' us black people."
Me: "Ma'am, I didn't even know what ethnicity you were until you told me [blatent lie] and this has nothing to do with race. I'm just trying to help you, could you please explain the situation to me?"
Now, I have a notoriously calming affect on some customers (I emphasize *SOME*) especially those that clearly are not quite all there. So at this point she calmed down a bit and began to explain what happened.
Lady: "WELL! Mah' gas went off and yo' tech came out and he was a black man and I think he used ta' be a police officer since he jus' look like one. An' he wouldn't turn my pilot light on an' when he asked where mah' furnace was I said in the basement, an' when he asked if I had a dog, I said in the basement, and he made all these faces, you know, like UN UN UHHHH and he was al' twisted up an' I knew he wanted tah' kill mah' dog. So's he wen' out to his truck and sat there, an' I called and asked for someone to come and light mah' pilot light, an' you peoples said no one lights pilot lights, weeeeell he says he'd light mah' pilot light for 45 bucks! An' no way I ain't payin' 45 bucks fo' that!"
Me: "Would you like me to send through a formal complaint to the local office about that technician?"
Lady: "Yeh! And lemme' tell you, I already called to FBIs and they's gonna' come and fire alls of ya' and you all gonna' go to jail! And that tech is gonna' go to jail for tryin' tah' kill me!"
Me: "Our tech tried to kill you?"
Lady: "Can I speak to a supervisor?"
I was more than obliging to get a supervisor for her. Clearly this was no average call, and if the FBI and murder was involved, well, this was well above my level. So I transferred her over to my supervisor...who wasn't exactly as nice and understanding as I was.
Soon I hear my supervisor yelling at her phone, and strangly enough I can hear the lady yelling back at the supervisor, even though we've been given top-of-the-line headphones which shouldn't let any sound in or out. But this woman was LOUD.
Then my supervisor had to hang up on this lady, at this point I had logged thirty minutes of conversation with her (I told you I edited out a lot of madness) and we were all hoping that this was the last we would hear from her.
HEH.
Soon I have a fellow CSR talking to me on the phone telling me there's a lady that asked to speak with me directly.
UHOH.
Sure enough, there she is.
Lady: "ominousoat?"
Me: "Yeeeeah."
Lady: "Oh good! I like you, I think you're the only good person here, and the rest of them? They's cops, they's all cops, that lady you just had me talk to is a cop. She may be working there, but let me tell you, she's a cop, and she is gonna' bring you all done."
Me: "I'm pretty sure she's not a cop..."
Lady: "Oh she is! I know she is! No one treats nobody like that except cops!, and lemme' tell you she's gonna' be arrested soon when the FBIs break down your door!"
Me: "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Lady: "Can you get somebody out here to light my pilot light?"
Me: "No. No one does that."
Lady: "Can you just send someone out? Go above [supervisors] head and help out! Ya' see when mah' daddy worked at an auto repair shop he managed to become head foreman [?] by bringing down his supervisors and going above their heads and helpin' people out! You gotta' help out us black folk an' help out tha' poor folk, and be good! What would yo' momma' say if she heard yah' saying "No" tah' me? Huh? Would she be proud? I think not ominousoat, an' I knows you good, and I knows you can help me out? So will you step up and help me out? Will you go above [supervisors] head and someday own that company?"
Me: "I'll see what I can do...but I still can't make a tech go out."
Lady: Try for me [ominousoat] try for me and show yo' momma' she can be proud."
She then hung up. I sent an e-mail to our dispatch team to see what they could do, naturally they let me know this was impossible. Sure enough, like clockwork, this woman called in again about 15 minutes later to see what I found out. She was transferred to me, and this all she said:
Lady: "I called the polices and tol' them y'all tryin' to kill me and steal mah' stuff, and y'all been sneakin' in mah' attics and stealin' mah pilot lights and kil't mah' dog and that that [supervisor] is a cop and she' be tryin' to kill me, and so yous need to run [ominousoat] cuz' the polices be there soon and they gonna' arrest y'all and arrest everyone there, and they's might bomb ya', I like you [ominousoat] and you's need to get out and run!"
[click]
I never heard from her again. But thirty minutes later? The supervisor got a call from the [our state] state patrol, they said they had a call from vilegan asking them to investigate a theft and attempted murder.
Honest to God, the woman called the cops on us.
We had the cops call her back and let her know she needn't be calling us back ever again.
And that is the craziest, suckiest, yet most amusing customer I have ever talked to.
We work in natural gas. I can't say what company, or what states we serve, but I can at least say that they're cold states, and one of the states has some of the most evil customers in the world. The latter state, which I will call "Vilegan"...no no that's too obvious, perhaps "Michisatan". Anyhow, we don't have much to do with this state since...well we just don't want to. Our technicians don't want to, no one wants to. Consequently, the techs will do the bare minimum, which is read your meter (sometimes) and turn your gas on or off (sometimes) and that's it, no more, no less. They will not even light a pilot light if they're in the area. Nothing.
Anyhow, I should defend myself from the title of this post. I am a proponant in the fight against mental illness stigmas, I fight stereotypes and myths about mental illness where ever I go. I myself suffer from a minor mental illnes, so I'm not meaning any of this in a derogatory way. Everything I mention is indeed the truth, and I am just explaining what happened. On to the story.
It was a slow, easy Sunday morning. This is the best time to work because everyone is either sleeping or in church. So I use this time to do homework, and I rarely, if ever, get calls during this time. However, I had noticed a large amount of activity on the phones around me this morning, this was extremely off considering the time, and I assumed perhaps there had been some major gas leak somewhere. However, I then noticed that everyone was talking about the same thing...or woman that is. I heard bits and pieces of the story, certain words like "crazy" and "unreasonable" reached my ears; however, I failed to heed this warning and take a break. Thus, it was my turn to take a call, and sure enough I got...her.
The call started off bad. First thing I hear is "Why you all stoled mah' pilot light?" naturally I was confused and asked her what she meant. Here's a general transcript, with some madness edited out for time:
Lady: "Why you all stoled mah' pilot light?"
Me: "I'm not sure what you mean, could you give me your account number so I could reference your account?"
Lady: "Don't act like yo' don' know what ah' mean. Why'd you stoled mah' pilot light?"
Me: "Calm down ma'am, who stole your pilot light?"
Lady: "YOU! YOU PEOPLE! YOU STOLED MAH' PILOT LIGHT!"
Me: "ma'am, we are located in [state far away from Vilegan] and there's no way we could steal anything from you."
Lady: "Oh! You're from [previously mentioned state] ? WELL! I've been there before, and I broke down, and all of the people that helped me were very nice, even though they were white!"
Me, wondering if she broke down mentally, or if it was her car: We're not being mean ma'am, I'm trying to help you, and I'll need some more information if I'm going to help you.
Lady: "Nuh'uh! You just all be hatin' on us! You know what? You all just a bunch of racist bigots there who be hatin' us black people."
Me: "Ma'am, I didn't even know what ethnicity you were until you told me [blatent lie] and this has nothing to do with race. I'm just trying to help you, could you please explain the situation to me?"
Now, I have a notoriously calming affect on some customers (I emphasize *SOME*) especially those that clearly are not quite all there. So at this point she calmed down a bit and began to explain what happened.
Lady: "WELL! Mah' gas went off and yo' tech came out and he was a black man and I think he used ta' be a police officer since he jus' look like one. An' he wouldn't turn my pilot light on an' when he asked where mah' furnace was I said in the basement, an' when he asked if I had a dog, I said in the basement, and he made all these faces, you know, like UN UN UHHHH and he was al' twisted up an' I knew he wanted tah' kill mah' dog. So's he wen' out to his truck and sat there, an' I called and asked for someone to come and light mah' pilot light, an' you peoples said no one lights pilot lights, weeeeell he says he'd light mah' pilot light for 45 bucks! An' no way I ain't payin' 45 bucks fo' that!"
Me: "Would you like me to send through a formal complaint to the local office about that technician?"
Lady: "Yeh! And lemme' tell you, I already called to FBIs and they's gonna' come and fire alls of ya' and you all gonna' go to jail! And that tech is gonna' go to jail for tryin' tah' kill me!"
Me: "Our tech tried to kill you?"
Lady: "Can I speak to a supervisor?"
I was more than obliging to get a supervisor for her. Clearly this was no average call, and if the FBI and murder was involved, well, this was well above my level. So I transferred her over to my supervisor...who wasn't exactly as nice and understanding as I was.
Soon I hear my supervisor yelling at her phone, and strangly enough I can hear the lady yelling back at the supervisor, even though we've been given top-of-the-line headphones which shouldn't let any sound in or out. But this woman was LOUD.
Then my supervisor had to hang up on this lady, at this point I had logged thirty minutes of conversation with her (I told you I edited out a lot of madness) and we were all hoping that this was the last we would hear from her.
HEH.
Soon I have a fellow CSR talking to me on the phone telling me there's a lady that asked to speak with me directly.
UHOH.
Sure enough, there she is.
Lady: "ominousoat?"
Me: "Yeeeeah."
Lady: "Oh good! I like you, I think you're the only good person here, and the rest of them? They's cops, they's all cops, that lady you just had me talk to is a cop. She may be working there, but let me tell you, she's a cop, and she is gonna' bring you all done."
Me: "I'm pretty sure she's not a cop..."
Lady: "Oh she is! I know she is! No one treats nobody like that except cops!, and lemme' tell you she's gonna' be arrested soon when the FBIs break down your door!"
Me: "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Lady: "Can you get somebody out here to light my pilot light?"
Me: "No. No one does that."
Lady: "Can you just send someone out? Go above [supervisors] head and help out! Ya' see when mah' daddy worked at an auto repair shop he managed to become head foreman [?] by bringing down his supervisors and going above their heads and helpin' people out! You gotta' help out us black folk an' help out tha' poor folk, and be good! What would yo' momma' say if she heard yah' saying "No" tah' me? Huh? Would she be proud? I think not ominousoat, an' I knows you good, and I knows you can help me out? So will you step up and help me out? Will you go above [supervisors] head and someday own that company?"
Me: "I'll see what I can do...but I still can't make a tech go out."
Lady: Try for me [ominousoat] try for me and show yo' momma' she can be proud."
She then hung up. I sent an e-mail to our dispatch team to see what they could do, naturally they let me know this was impossible. Sure enough, like clockwork, this woman called in again about 15 minutes later to see what I found out. She was transferred to me, and this all she said:
Lady: "I called the polices and tol' them y'all tryin' to kill me and steal mah' stuff, and y'all been sneakin' in mah' attics and stealin' mah pilot lights and kil't mah' dog and that that [supervisor] is a cop and she' be tryin' to kill me, and so yous need to run [ominousoat] cuz' the polices be there soon and they gonna' arrest y'all and arrest everyone there, and they's might bomb ya', I like you [ominousoat] and you's need to get out and run!"
[click]
I never heard from her again. But thirty minutes later? The supervisor got a call from the [our state] state patrol, they said they had a call from vilegan asking them to investigate a theft and attempted murder.
Honest to God, the woman called the cops on us.
We had the cops call her back and let her know she needn't be calling us back ever again.
And that is the craziest, suckiest, yet most amusing customer I have ever talked to.
Apparently, there was a similar-sounding street over there that just happened to have the same house number....and the gas company didn't bother checking to see if I was even in their service area! Turns out the resident there was freaking out because she thought someone had "stolen her identify" and had somehow taken over her gas service.
Comment