Arghhhhhh
867 - Epic Fail
Me: "Good evening, <company>-"
SC: "Order…."
Me: "Pardon?"
SC: "uh…..orrrrdur….."
Me: "You'd like to place an order?"
SC: "Orduuuuuuurr…."
What are you? The ghost of Pantsmas Past? Put the beer down and spit it out, ditch ape.
Me: "and what's your last name?"
SC: "<Makes noises akin to trying to deep throat the phone receiver>"
Me: "….ok, how do you spell that?"
SC: "H……..M…….uh….E…….R….no, wait…..um…..H….M….uh...no...."
Dude, you don't even know
who you are. Perhaps this is not the best time to be considering purchasing pink camo panties or whatever the hell it is you're calling for. If I can make a suggestion maybe you should try going for a whole week….heck, 24 hours, without drinking or huffing anything and for God's sake please stop eating the "magic Doritos" that keep appearing on top of the toilet tank in your bathroom. Those aren't deliciously flavoured corn snacks. Those are paint chips.
I know 24 hour's is asking a lot of you and I sympathize, believe me I do. Well, no, no I don't, but for the love of whatever deity you believe in ( God, Allah, Labatts, etc ) at least try to make it till the end of Hockey Night in Canada without ingesting your own body weight in beer. If you're lucky and the game goes into overtime maybe you'll remember who the hell you are.
When that finally occurs, feel free to call back and we can move on to the next difficult question such as…..
Me: "What's your postal code?"
SC: "Huh?"
Me: "What's your postal code?"
SC: "….was dat?"
Me: "It's part of your address. You need it to place an order."
SC: "Uh….Po Box xx"
Me: "No, I need your postal code."
SC: "…..po box…."
Me: "I need your postal code to place an order for you"
SC: "uh…..George Town…"
Me: "No, I need your postal code. Otherwise I cannot place an order for you."
SC: "….postal code….whas dat?"
Me: "It's part of your address. I can't place an order for you with out it"
SC: "…uh…..<Proceeds to tell me his birthday>"
Me: "…..no, I. Need. Your. Postal. Code."
SC: "….umm…."
What do you people want from me? Tears? Is that what its going to take? Will you not be satisfied until I break down weeping like a little girl and beg you to stop talking and go read a book or watch Sesame Street or something? Anything to try and drag your IQ kicking and screaming out of the mud seeped ditch of utter incompetence and at least get it back up onto the shoulder of the road of basic comprehension. Because I will if I have too. If that's what it takes to finally rid myself of you people I will do it. I will cry like a child that's just been told the burger she's eating use to be her puppy. If only to make it stop.
Yes, this is all one call. One glorious, unending symphony celebrating the slow, painful death of brain cells.
Oh, and this was the second call. One of my coworkers was on the line with this guy when I arrived at work. I listened to him spend 5 minutes trying to futilely explain the concept of a postal code to him. Going so far as to ask him to just
turn the catalog over and read the friggan address label. He failed at even that so he had to call back and try again.
More Fail
Me: "Do you have a customer ID number?"
SC: "Oh, sure, it's <begins giving me his Visa #>"
Me: "No, did you receive a customer ID number in the mail?"
SC: "<Gives me his Visa number again>"
Me: "……did you order tickets last year? And get a customer ID number in the mail?"
SC: "Oh, no."
…..<twitch>
Me: "and your first name?
SC: "Gordon"
Me: "Last name?"
SC: "MacDonald."
Me: "Ok, is that G-o-r-d-a-n or G-o-r-d-o-n?"
SC: "It's M-A-C-D-O-N-A-L-D"
Me: "…..ok, but how is the first name spelled? Gordan with a or Gordon with an o?"
SC: "M-A-C-D-O-N-A-L-D"
Me: "….yes, but how do you spell your
first name. "
SC: "M-A-C-D-O-N-A-L-D"
Me: "…….yes, but was the first name Gordan with an a or an o?"
SC: "Oh, an o"
Me: "Thank you."
….arrggh….
Me: "and your address?"
SC: "Just one please."
Me: "….ok. But what is your address?"
SC: "Just a single ticket."
Me: "….yes, but what is your address, please?"
SC: "Oh, it's-"
Wow, I wish I could too could hear nothing but echoes from 10 seconds into the future. Then I too could appear to be a dumbass during every day conversation. I need to stop painting every moron with the same, broad brush. Some of them may just be psychic and totally unaware I'm speaking to them from present day Earth.
Why They Really Pay me
SC: "Do you guys take American Express?"
Me: "Yes, we take Amex."
SC: "How about Amex?"
Me: "Yes, we take Amex."
SC: "You take American Express?"
Me: "…..yes, yes we do."
You do realize of course that there is a company that is actually employing me and paying me money to *not* make fun of you to your face? I still make fun of you of course. Behind your back. But just think about that for a moment. Someone has to pay me money to not make fun of your rickety mental facilities. Try using that perspective on customer service next time you go out shopping or something. These people are being paid to not make fun of or point out your glaringly low IQ and/or total lack of manners/hygiene/education/sad lonely existence. Heck, some of them are being paid to not physically
take your life with their bare hands.
I Am Not Quite Paid Enough
SC: "How long does it take Bell South to process?"
Me: "Did you receive a receipt when you made the payment?"
SC: "Yes"
Me: "Is there a payment processing time on the receipt?"
SC: "Uh…no"
Me: "…did you look down at the bottom?"
SC: "Uh….1-3 business days........oh"
Me: "Mhmmm."
Your welcome. If there are any other glaringly obvious dilemmas in your life that you require someone to hold your hand and guide you through feel free to call again. I'm here all week ( and I can't leave. Send help. )
Rhythm
Me: "and the card number?"
SC: "It's xxx-x-xxxx-xx-xx-xxxx"
That is not the acceptable format of credit card rhythm. The correct format is xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx. Please hang up, attempt to locate and obtain a rhythm, beat or groove then call back and try again. Thank you.
Read, damn you
I do not care about your ring tones. I also do not care that the guy at the store told you that he would give you two free ring tones. I am not even your cell phone company let alone a cell phone company. Perhaps you should have consulted that guy's shirt, your actual cell phone plan or the giant glowing sign above the store and learned who it was you actually purchased cell phone from service from. Then called them. A radical idea I know. I think they call it "common sense" or something. I wish I could say its all the rage these days but it seems to be slow catching on.
Corporate Reminders
Corporate sent us an email the other day to explain to us, a company of at least half way competent adults, how to wash our hands after we use the bathroom. It took 3 paragraphs to explain this. Thank you corporate.
They stressed you must wash them for at least 30 seconds with warm water and soap while rubbing them together. They were very keen on the "rubbing" part and explained that the "friction" helps immensely.
On a side note some time ago they installed new motion sensor faucets in our bathrooms that give you 5 seconds of water after you wave your hand under them. It takes about 30 seconds of this to get warm water. Which means we basically stand in the bathroom for a full minute waving our hands around like some sort of bathroom wizard casting an elaborate cantrip for good luck after we pee.
Day Two: Complete.
The Taste of Failure
My brain's stuck between hilarious laughter and trying to figure out what stupid would look like on one's face... would it be mud-like substance, or remnants of slain brain cells? Too many options...!
Hybrid Mode
