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The Fabulous Duck Story

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  • The Fabulous Duck Story

    I've been meaning to post this here and forgot. My apologies if you've seen it elsewhere since then. It's been picked up in a couple places. Should've gone here first.

    I didn't bother editing out the naughty words since the censor's going to, according to the FAQ.
    -------------------------------------------------------
    (Setting the scene: Prettily cut fruit baskets, sometimes assembled in ceramic things shaped like ducks. This is quite insanely long. People keep saying 'this is long', but I don't think that word means what they think it does.)

    Enough time has now passed that there's plausible deniability in the event of any of the principals in this little drama finding this and having a fit.

    So. A gentleman calls with a complaint that we delivered a duck basket to his wife in the hospital after she had a baby, only there wasn't any duck, just a basket. Okay, mistakes happen. Offers of refunds for price of the $7 duck were made. Offer of future discount on order.

    None of that was working for this fellow, however. You see, this particular ceramic yellow baby duck has a slit in its head, it's supposed to be a BANK, like a PIGGY BANK, and he REALLY REALLY WANTED THAT GODDAMN DUCK FOR HIS NEW SON. Here's a pic of something very much like what I'm talking about, complete with improbable flowers sprouting from its back.

    One might briefly wonder just how much good a duck bank that also has a gigantic hole in its back (where we put the fruit in) is going to be. Rather pointless, no? One might wonder. One will never get a satisfactory answer for this.

    Since he wants this stupid duck badly enough to be calling me all kinds of names that nobody says in church, I then say we'll bring him another one tomorrow. Here is where the shit hitteth the fan.

    He wants it within THE NEXT HOUR. Well, that isn't going to happen. The driver's on the other side of town, with a truckload of a dozen other deliveries, on a route that I happen to know is very carefully planned out. How do I know? Because I plan the sucker, that's how. It takes into account people that will only be around at a certain time, traffic, and efficiency. I cannot just haul the driver back in, and give him a stupid 7$ duck, and send him peeling rubber out of the lot on this emergency 7$ duck run. This is especially true since the hospital's on the extreme far edge of our delivery turf, and he's currently on the other extreme far edge. To sum up: it would screw over everyone else on today's route, setting us back at least two hours, and guarantee that at least half the deliveries don't get done. Not going to happen.

    He announces that it isn't a problem because his wife's now back at home, so we can just go there. Which turns out to be a good 25 miles outside of our delivery area.

    Further arguments commenced. I certainly am not sending the driver on a wild $7 duck chase 25 miles out of town. Given our delivery charges, IF we decided to go out there for some batshit reason, it'd be a charge of about $40. All this, for (say it with me!) a $7 duck.

    That doesn't signify, he still expects us to do it, and within the hour, and he doesn't care if I personally have to get into my personal vehicle and use my personal gas and my personal time, but he's getting his duck within the hour. I inform the man that my personal vehicle is nonexistent, and I don't think he's going to be reimbursing me for the cost of a taxi (rough estimate, there and back - ohhhh, probably about $80). For (say it with me!) a $7 duck. I was right; he wasn't.

    There was also the tiny, utterly unimportant fact that I'm the only one minding the store and cannot leave.

    None of this matters to him. He got gypped out of his duck, and he wants his duck, and he by god WILL HAVE HIS DUCK. Words like "unacceptable" and "Better Business Bureau" and "lawyer" now enter the conversation. Pairing them up with the word "duck", which I've always found to be hilarious for no known reason (nothing to do with cussing; thought so since I was a sprog), just about finished me. Thank goodness for mute buttons.

    He ALSO upgraded his demands. Apparently, speaking with me is such a horror that NOW he feels he should be compensated with an all new arrangement. Now we're talking about $70, plus tax and delivery, if I remember correctly. I suppose I'm lucky he didn't demand a blow job to boot.

    This all sounds like one conversation, right? It actually took four days and multiple calls, and eventually involved everyone in the store at some point or another. However, it was the same conversation every single time.

    The notes on the account were hilarious. Some choice quotes:

    "Says he didn't get a duck, wants whole new arrangement delivered TO HOUSE. Home address is almost in another state. Also says he sent two emails. No such emails located within system"
    "Looked up last shipment of duck containers, contrasted with inventory. Careful count of current duck population in warehouse (4), in conjunction with prior shipment and inventory, strongly suggests that a duck was indeed delivered to customer. Probability of other explanation is approximately negative 20 percent"

    Reading on, we find that at some point, he admitted to my coworker that we did, actually, deliver a duck to the hospital room where his wife was recovering from birth. He'd actually broken the duck himself before they ever went home! The notes say:

    "he conceded, but stated that it was our responsibility to him, the customer, to replace it to his satisfaction. Advised him that he could come by and pick one up, but he said no"

    And more time went by. My days were filled with pain, and my nights were filled with vodka.

    We were all heartily sick of this guy, and it was a great relief when he finally agreed that we could drop off a fucking $7 duck at the same hospital's labor department, and Himself would graciously swing a block out of his way on his commute home to pick it up. We called the nurses on duty there, briefed them on the situation, and begged tearfully that nobody make off with this stupid duck, because we'd be having this same soul-withering conversation with this guy for the next thousand years.

    I wish to stress that to my knowledge, none of us were ever anything but polite to him, and GOD IN HEAVEN we tried everything we knew to make him happy.

    So, of course, one day later, here comes an email from corporate wanting to know why this man has said all this stuff about us. It included his email. Naturally, we were surprised to discover that this man, who'd never ordered from us before (records, aren't they a bitch), was a regular customer who'd spent maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars in the last month or two. Wow. Something must be very wrong with the database to have somehow deleted this guy's massive number of orders except the one involving the duck. Or something.

    We were also shocked to hear what my coworker and I had actually said when we thought we were saying something else altogether. Most of the time, we were right there while the other one spoke to him, so the obvious conclusion is that citrus fruits cause brain damage, memory loss, and Tourette's.

    We then learned that he's a "concept guy". That he's a "drug Rep" with lots of other "drug Rep" friends. Also, he has an MBA! And then he included a phone number that I took to the Internet, and found out he lied his ass off about most of that, although it turns out that there's really no way to prove or disprove the "concept guy" part.

    Corporate basically said "what the duck EVER", and duck jokes ruled our lives with an iron fist wing for the next year.
    Love and time, those are the only two things in all of the world and in all of life that cannot be bought, but only spent. from Aztec, by Gary Jennings (R.I.P.)

  • #2
    That..is...precious. That's what I like to call no only a moron, but a monumental moron of the nth degree, a stupid so stupid as to create a hole in the fabric of space and time itself. Really? He really thought that crap would work?

    Sigh.
    Would you like a Stummies?

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    • #3
      What I'd like to know is this: If I get into a car wreck because I'm driving 95 MPH in the snow, is Toyota gonna replace my Corolla to my satisfaction? Because, really, my satisfaction would involve a turbo Spyder.

      (this duck thing happened quite a long time ago, so the "no personal vehicle" thing's been remedied since, although I'd really rather have a Spyder)
      Love and time, those are the only two things in all of the world and in all of life that cannot be bought, but only spent. from Aztec, by Gary Jennings (R.I.P.)

      Comment


      • #4
        Dearest moron fuckface blithering simp Darling Esteemed MBA Drug Company Representative and Concept Guy:

        I am terribly amused sorry about your pitifully shitwitted attempt at a scam situation; however our backroom wall database shows that your butt ugly precious duck actually was delivered to you on xx/xx date. Therefore we must wipe our tushies with regretfully decline your insane demand repeated requests for a refund or a replacement. We fart in your general direction really hope you choke on vomit understand, and hope to find you floating face-down in a river serve your future floral delivery needs

        Cram it Respectfully,
        Flower Shop
        Last edited by Irving Patrick Freleigh; 03-04-2008, 04:04 AM. Reason: because I felt like it
        Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Study hard. Be evil.

        "I never said I wasn't a horrible person."--Me, almost daily

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        • #5
          Dangit, IPF, I just broke Rule #1. At work. With Diet Coke.
          "In the end I was the mean girl/or somebody's in between girl"~Neko Case

          “You don't need many words if you already know what you're talking about.” ~William Stafford

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          • #6
            ...and a check mark for today!
            Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Study hard. Be evil.

            "I never said I wasn't a horrible person."--Me, almost daily

            Comment


            • #7
              Oh, man, please tell me I'm not the only one who misread the title... And here I was gonna tell you guys the "Purple monkey 'duck' washer" story my brother so aptly provided for my family back when he was... 14?
              My brother, attempting to quote the episode of The Simpsons where the teachers go on strike, relayed to my father "And we'll get him for that 'Purple Monkey d*ck (attempting to say 'dish') washer crack..." Bro goes really bright red, and clamps his mouth shut, immediately realizing what he'd actually said. Dad just laughed about it.
              "I call murder on that!"

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              • #8
                after all that crap this jacktard heaps on you and then admits he broke it?

                i think he needed to be told to stuff it and to take his business elsewhere...to hell, perhaps.
                look! it's ghengis khan!
                Sorry, but while I can do many things, extracting heads from anuses isn't one of them. (so sayeth the irv)

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                • #9
                  LAWYER LAWYER CHEESE CAKE LAWYER
                  LAWYER LAWYER DUCK

                  Unacceptable duck lawyer duck duck BBB!!!

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Quoth AbracaDeborah View Post
                    Given our delivery charges, IF we decided to go out there for some batshit reason, it'd be a charge of about $40. All this, for (say it with me!) a $7 duck.
                    867 has spread!!!!!!!!
                    Unseen but seeing
                    oh dear, now they're masquerading as sane-KiaKat
                    There isn't enough interpretive dance in the workplace these days-Irv
                    3rd shift needs love, too
                    RIP, mo bhrionglóid

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                    • #11
                      Being the bastard I am, I'm not sure I'd have been as polite. After getting screamed at, I'm sure I probably would have told the guy to "duck off" or to "go duck yourself"
                      Aerodynamics are for people who can't build engines. --Enzo Ferrari

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                      • #12
                        Protege, how about calling him a motherducker?
                        Unseen but seeing
                        oh dear, now they're masquerading as sane-KiaKat
                        There isn't enough interpretive dance in the workplace these days-Irv
                        3rd shift needs love, too
                        RIP, mo bhrionglóid

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          What the duck is a ducking concept guy anyway?

                          I'm picturing it being a title awarded by mangagement to the biggest duckbag.
                          How was I supposed to know someone was slipping you Birth Control in the food I've been making for you lately?

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                          • #14
                            Lol, you guys!

                            What the Duck was his problem! I this yelling and screaming over a ducking $7 duck! I feel so sorry for the newborn babe, having a father like this. I hope the mother is much better behaved.

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              Wow...that guy is a 100% pure duck (by that I mean dumb fuck). He pitched all those hissy fits for a freaking $7 duck he broke. Duck the ducking duckers. Oh, IPF that "letter" had me LMAO!
                              I don't get paid enough to kiss your a**! -Groezig 5/31/08
                              Another day...another million braincells lost...-Sarlon 6/16/08
                              Chivalry is not dead. It's just direly underappreciated. -Samaliel 9/15/09

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