Wherein I smell *delicious.*
Bit slow this week. Painful, but slow.
SC: “Great, thanks buddy.”
You presume far too much about our relationship. I am not your buddy, pal, friend, comrade, compatriot, tomodachi or amigo. This is a one sided relationship which you have progressed to the friendship stage over the course of 45 seconds. At this rate you’ll be digging through my trash for items to add to your Gravekeepr Shrine by the end of the week before you break into my house and steal my cat and my underwear so that you may alternately sniff both in hopes of partaking of my luscious scent.
I smell like vanilla chai~
Me: “Ok, and the ID number please?”
SC: “It’s 2367…uh….76….wait, no, 67….um. Let me spell it again.”
Yes, by all means, please spell the number for me again. Best part was it sounded like he had CNN on in the background. I can’t imagine CNN world news being overly popular in Nunavut unless it’s part of some sort of weird drinking game. Take a shot every time the anchor uses a word you don’t understand, can’t pronounce or can’t count?
SC: “What time is the clinic open this morning?”
SC: “For adults?”
No, just children and animals mainly. Hell, just drive up and abandon them on the front steps. We’ll get to the them eventually if they don’t wander too far so you might want to tie them to something. Don’t worry, we leave out kibble and a water dish.
Yes, I know
Me: “Alright, I’ll page them and let them know.”
SC: “Great! You are spectacular!”
Yes, I know. <preen>. So good of you to notice. Know that his royal majesty is pleased that his eminence has grown to such a scale that it can be detected across a phone line. You have done well, peasant. We are pleased and shall reward you and your kin with a paltry sum and perhaps a goat. Sheep if you’re unmarried. They’re better for the long, lonely, cold winter nights. So very cold.
Alright, despite many stereotypes about male fantasies to the contrary, we do not actually want women just falling into our lap. So if for some half baked reason you insist on standing up on a moving bus right before a sharp turn, please hold on to something. Otherwise you will go flying across the bus and land on top of me. A scenario which is not even remotely sexy. It’s actually more surprisingly painful.
Me: "Good evening, <company>"
SC: “Uh, what is this?”
Me: “This is <company>”
SC: “Uh….like, what do you do?”
Me: “We service heavy machinary.”
SC: “uh…so why are you still open?”
Why are you still calling? Not that answering that question will answer your question. Because I’m not at a payphone in downtown Vancouver at 4am, shirtless, clutching a half empty 2 litre of Road Warrior and blissfully unaware of my severe head wound. I’m merely here because I’m being paid to be here. Which is much more than I can say for yourself.
SC: “Where am I calling right now?”
Me: “We’re in Vancouver here though we cover all of North America.”
SC: “Really? Wow! What’s the weather like!?”
Well, we do aim for accuracy and I am committed to upholding this standard.
Me: “Good evening, <client>.”
SC: “Hi, my name is Vick.”
Me: “Hello, Vick!”
SC: “..uh, hi. You guys really kicked the heck out of me over building the spaceships.”
Me: “You know we don’t build spaceships, right?”
SC: “Uh, yeah.”
Me: “So than why are you calling us about spaceships?”
SC: “Um, well you guys really kicked me around about them. I just want to be left in peace.”
SC: “I fear for my family and my grandkids if I ever have grandkids. I just want to be left alone.”
Me: “Well we can leave you alone.”
( At this point I hit my disconnect key. =p )
Uncle Vick really seems desperate for us to pay attention to him. Poor Uncle Vick, he just wants to be loved. He probably lives out of a van, has 3 kids with 3 different women and at least 2 restraining orders against him. We, the <client>, are his last hope of anyone ever paying any attention to his existence. I mean if you can’t turn to the <client> for love, who can you turn too? That’s us alright. Black suits, sunglasses, earpieces and of course, hugs.
Ok this happened this morning and I'm still scratching my head about it. I was on my way home from work, thanking the small collection of random gods I pay lip service too that I was finally free of the insanity. When this woman got on the Skytrain. Nothing amiss about her. Perfectly normal. Then she sits down and starts singing a hymm. Loudly and horribly out of key. She's singing it AT the two guys across from her. Now, these two guys are Sikhs, so they look at her like "WTF?!" as she warbles on about Jesus. After a minute of shock, they ignore her and resume talking.
At which point she screeches "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" at them. Without even breaking her song I might add. Just "The Lord is ~ SHUT THE FUCK UP! my shepard~". So they're both looking at her again like "WTF woman?!". Their puzzlement wears off again and they try to ignore her again. So she once again breaks song for just a moment to screech "SHUT UP I'M SINGING TO GOD!". So these two guys are basically deer caught in the divine headlights now.
Then the guy in front of me, whom I had mentally labeled a douche nozzle the second he walked on the Skytrain, decided to prove me right by laughing and cheering her on. She took this as encouragement and kept on butchering whatever melody it was she was attempting to sing.
Seeing she had a....supporter, she came over to sit next to him after finishing her...aria, and thus right near me. Much to my alarm. She begins talking to douche nozzle about the glories of Jesus and douche nozzle begins looking increasingly uncomfortable about the fate he brought down upon himself. Than she starts rambling about how no one should ever swear, ever, EVER and if you truly believe in God you will never, ever ever ever swear. Despite her screeching SHUT THE FUCK UP 2 minutes ago. I guess it doesn't count on Sundays. Then she starts rambling about how she doesn't understand why people get offended when she sings in their faces about God
Douche nozzle actually tries using reason on her and explains that not everyone is the same religion as her so some people might be offended.
She actually looked at him, utterly puzzled, and said "Oh. Really?".
SC: “Sorry if my voice is hoarse. I’ve been up all night reading my mail.”
I’d make fun of you but I don’t think anything I say could possibly make your existence any sadder then you’ve already revealed. My pitiful verbal barbs would not be able to penetrate the dull haze of failure and sadness that already hangs around you. So congratulations, you are perhaps one of the few people walking this earth whom I cannot bring harm upon. For the dark shroud that hangs off your shoulders, smothering all light and happiness, is proof against my venomous fangs.
Me: “Good evening, <client>.”
SC: “Hi, my name is Vick.”
Me: “Hello, Vick!”
SC: “…uh, hi."
Me: "What can I do for you?"
SC: "I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried every level of the police and agency you said to call and no one will help me. I don’t what to do anymore!”
SC: “I don’t know what to do anymore. Can you help me?”
Me: “I told you we don’t have any jurisdiction over this in Canada. You need to speak with the local police.”
SC: “You can’t help me?”
SC: “You guys have all the advanced technology though. Can’t you keep an eye on my parents and my kids and all my little grand kids?”
Me: “We have no jurisdiction to do any of that in this country.”
And even if we did, wiretapping and surveillance is really more of a Homeland Security sort of thing.
SC: “I don’t know what to do anymore! Can’t you help me?”
SC: “There’s nothing you can do?!”
SC: “Ok, well.....thanks for your time. <sigh>”
Me: “Bye bye.”
Poor Uncle Vick. He sounded like his world had been crushed. No one will listen to him. His entire family is in peril. Both the real and imaginary parts of it as well as any as yet non-existent members of it which may or may not be born in the bleak dystopian future. They’re all in dire peril. From what…..I really don’t know. Up until this point Uncle Vick seemed under the impression that <client> was out to get him due to his elaborate spaceship plans. So based on previous calls I can only assume he’s calling us to ask us to protect him as his family from us over the spaceship which he wants us to let him build for us.
This plan seems like it has more then a few flaws.
Me: “Ok, are you in custody?”
SC: “No, my boyfriend is.”
Me: “Alright, what’s he in custody for?”
SC: “They didn’t tell me. But I assume drunk driving.”
If your girlfriend can immediately name the felony she thinks you’d most likely be arrested for you just might have a problem.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?
SC: “I’m being harassed because I made a complaint about harassment. The women, or one woman, in the office whom I can’t name.”
Me: “…alright, unfortunately I cannot assist you as there is no one on after 10pm.”
SC: “You can’t assist me? IS THAT BECAUSE I’M NOT IN BC?!”
Me: “..no, there’s just no one in after 10pm-“
SC: “Harassment doesn’t end at 10pm!”
Me: “You’ll have to call back in the morning-“
SC: “Is it because I’m not an office woman!?”
Ok, time out. We’re drifting into “I SNIFF MARKERS” territory and I think we need to just back up, put the cap back on, and take a deep breath of clean, rational air. Now, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about or what you want from me but based on our short conversation I’m utterly convinced I lack the credentials to help you with your…issues.
SC: “I’m looking at your website and there’s a little banner that says there’s a sale running for 30-50% off?”
SC: “What items does that apply too?”
Me: “The sales prices should be on every item below the regular price.”
SC: “Oh, that’s the sales price? Well, that’s misleading.”
SC: “Well, that’s all I wanted to ask. It wasn’t really clear.”
Let me see if I have this right: There’s a banner that says everything is on sale and everything has a price, in giant red text that says “ON SALE PRICE” right below the regular price and this is somehow misleading and unclear? I’m not sure I follow. But then again I don’t have the critical thinking skills of livestock. Hell, not even that. If you put pig food next to a pig, he eats the pig food. He doesn’t leave the pig pen, walk up to the farmer’s house at 6am, bang on the door and ask “Hey is the pig food in the pig trough in the pig pen for us pigs? Because leaving the pig food in the pig trough in the pig pen wasn’t really clear. It’s kind of misleading so I’m not sure.”
Now if you had at least the critical thinking skills of swine we could have avoided this call entirely. So please, in the future, could you try to aspire to the mental level of a domesticated farm animal at the very least? It would help us both out immensely.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? Part Deux
SC: “I’m an injured person! I’ve been into every business!”
Me: “Unfortunately, I’m just their afterhours service-“
SC: “I’m just an injured person! PEOPLE ARE BEING INJUROUS TO ME OVER THE PHONE!”
Somehow I doubt that. Trust me. I have tried long and hard to injure people over the phone and it’s just not possible despite all of my efforts to the contrary. Believe me when I say if ever a method is found to inflict harm over a phone line I will be the first to know about it.
You, however, will be the second to know about it.