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By Your Customers Combined...( Epic >< )
...I have had a fucktabulous week. I'm serious, I've had my customers in the office and have encountered everyone of your customers outside of it. Argh!
Seriously...I've kept track
Me: “Ok, and by credit card or COD?”
C: “Credit card.”
Ok, by CO-….wait, what? CREDIT card? The….bu….what? Are you sure? Do you really know what a credit card is? You’re not just making some tragic mistake with the mail in contest entry card from the back of a box of Fruit Loops? You….you really have a credit card? All the way up in those barren arctic lands? You’re not just trying to follow your nose to a trip for 2 to Disneyworld? I don’t believe you. Describe it to me. Explain the object you hold in your weathered paws that you believe to be a card of credit. So that I may decide if that is truly what you hold.
Because currently I can count the number of credit card orders I’ve had on this line in the last 5 years on one hand. If you truly have a credit card there, than the new tally will force me to use both hands. That’s a commitment I’m not yet willing to make. So forgive my skepticism.
The Wha?
I have no idea what “Screams of alcohol” are or why they’re seeping into your apartment and are so strong you can’t sleep because of the smell. I can sort of reverse engineer “screams of alcohol” to perhaps mean a loud party? But how precisely do you smell a scream? Is the smell of the party too strong? There are just too many logical disconnects in your statement for me to safely plan a route from point A to point B that doesn’t involve wandering naked into grizzly territory trying to carry a bottle of A1 steak sauce without using my hands.
Luckily, you hung up without giving me your name or number or anything. So I was saved having to attempt this poorly planned expedition.
No.
SC: “Ya wif me, boss?”
Well, I am present in this conversation…with you, so I shall assume that I meet the criteria of at least half of that statement. However, I do not recall being your employer. Unless you have just declared me as such and sworn your allegiance to me. In which case, I am flattered by your sudden proclamation but I’m afraid I simply can’t accept your services. If pop culture has taught me anything, it’s that you don’t hire incompetents to form the backbone of your evil empire’s military forces. As they are easily defeated by teams of teenagers in spandex, talking animals, plucky 6 year olds and Captain Planet. The four main groups that will naturally rise up to oppose and any dark empire I might form.
I Knew It!
Me: “Alright, do you have a pen there?”
SC: “No…..um, I have a crayon though.”
Thank you for confirming everything I have long suspected and joked over about my callers in a single sentence.
Curb Your Beast
Also, to the girl in front of me in line at <grocery store>. I just have 3 quick points I would like to review with you:
1) I didn’t know they made jeans in lemon yellow. Where in the world did you find your banana pantaloons? ( Banataloons? )
2) I’m pretty sure they don’t train pugs as certified service dogs. So your cover story for why its in the store is suspect. Leave the beast outside while you’re in a store full of food.
3) Turn around, your four legged shovelmouth is eating a box of Juicyfruit.
Its Not That Hard
Me: “Ok, and the item number please?”
SC: “The wha?”
Me: “The item number, please?”
SC: “What do you mean?!”
Me: “….what’s the number beside the picture of the item you’d like to order?”
SC: “Oh! Uh, wait, gotta find it…..ummmmmmmmmmmmm………………….”
I thought my directions were quite specific. You are seeking a picture of the thing you desire. Which I assume you have at some point be held before, else you would not be so enamoured with lust for it. Once you have located the picture in question, you must search the immediate vicinity for a number of some sort. Now, you will have to peel your eyes away from the object of your lust for a moment in order to do this. But rest assured you can keep it in your peripheral vision the entire time, so you should be ok.
Once you have located this number, speak it aloud into the receiver and like some sort of third rate genie with a 2 week lag time, I will grant you what you desire.
"Humour"
Me: “Good morning, <company>-”
SC: “Good morning, <company>.”
Me: “….Hi.”
SC: “How is <company> today?”
Me: “…….good.”
Ooooh, wait, I get it. You’re trying to be witty. By making like my name is <company> because I said <company>, ha ha, yes, good show. How very droll of you. Why your pie hole must be just a fount of cleverness and originality that brings mirth to all you encounter on a daily basis. It must be a spectacle like none other on earth. All who overhear it must become enraptured by its siren song and follow in your wake so that they may worship and labour under this false god that is the hole in your face.
Also, I have been told that I am sarcastic. I don’t know where anyone would get such an impression.
Dancing Mad
Ahhh, I love the ones that fight you tooth and nail over every single dry, stale morsel of personal information. As if revealing their true name or email address would grant others ritualistic power over them. This woman was particularly tight sphinctered. It was like some sort of elaborate multi-stage boss battle and I had neglected to stock up on Tonics before I left town.
Form 1:
The First Name ( 1500 HP )
This was the extent of information I was initially able to obtain. Requests for a last name were met with Ignore 1. This wasn’t a particularly difficult battle as I was able to merely cast Silence to stop her from casting. At which point she admitted her last name….
Form 2:
The Last Name ( 3000 HP, Immune to Sleep, Weak vs Fire )
Now that I had revealed her full identity, things got a bit trickier. She had caught on to my attack patterns and was being particularly resilient to my requests for an address. She began using I Don’t Know Why You Need It, which is difficult to counter as any the damage from any move involving Logic or Reason will only deal 20% of its normal damage. Since Logic and Reason are the only two characters in my party, this put me in a rather difficult position. Logic was actually beaten down twice, but I did bring a couple of Phoenix Downs ( Sorry, Fenix Downs ) so tragedy was averted.
Well, technically Sarcasm is in the party too, but I try to keep skipping his turn as I value my continued employment.
Still, I managed to slowly whittle her down and pulled an address out of her piece by stubborn piece.
Form 3:
The Address ( 99,999 HP, Immune to Sleep, Confuse, Berzerk. Strong vs Ice, Fire, Bolt. Weak vs Cheetos. )
This is where the real trouble began. When I went for an email address. I was immediately hit with Stonewall and there’s really nothing you can do to counter Stonewall. I tried seeing if I could deal enough damage to get through it, but Logic and Reason’s attacks just bounced off it. I could try attacking with Sarcasm, but something tells me that would actually make her gain HP.
Despite my best efforts, I was beaten down, my MP ran low and I was forced to hold down the shoulder buttons and flee.
Form 4:
Paranoia ( ?????? HP, Unstable. Immune to Logic and Reason. )
Even after I managed to escape a minute later I blundered straight back into her, this time as a random encounter. She called back again to make sure that I deleted the information I got out of her in the previous call before she refused to give me anymore and hung up on me. As she actually seems to be under the belief that I am so desperate to know the inner workings of her bland, uninteresting life that I would desperately scribble away any bare shreds of information I could find about her. In the hopes that I could cobble together the barest sketch of her person that I could hang in my basement shrine so that I could worship her opulence from afar.
You Tread a Dark Path, Boy.
Me: “Good evening, <company> renovations.”
SC: “Hi”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “How are you today?”
Me: “Good, can I help you?”
SC: “What do you guys specialize in?”
Me: “…..renovations?”
SC: “You don’t say!”
Me: “I thought that would be rather obvious. Is there something I can help you with?”
SC: “Not really. Bye!”
Me: “Bye.”
And herrrrrreeee we go….he’s 12 and he has a phone. No good can possibly come from this.
No, Really. Shoo.
Me: “Good evening, <company> renovations.”
SC: “I know you have nothing better to do and I have nothing better to do, so do you wanna just like, talk?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Why not?”
Me: “Because I don’t like you.”
SC: “Why, is business booming right now?”
Me: “Oh yes, quite.”
SC: “That’s good.”
Me: “Yes…....quite.”
SC: “What are your interests? Do you like football?”
Me: “You’re really bored aren’t you?”
SC: “Yeah…I have no life.”
Me: “Yes, that’s painfully obvious. Bye bye now.”
SC: "Wa-<click>"
At first I thought he was just prank calling, but I did detect a faint wiff of desperation in his prepubescent voice. A hollow loneliness if you will. As if his life had somehow lost purpose all of a sudden and he was trying to find something to fill this emptiness inside him….
Oh, wait, I get it. The World of Warcraft servers are down, aren’t they? You poor thing.
Dude.....seriously
Me: “Good evening, <company> renovations.”
SC: “Why did you hang up on me before?”
Me: “For the same reason I’m about to hang up on you again.”
SC: “Wait wait! Don’t hang up on me yet!”
Me: “……”
SC: “I just wanna ask, is this like an actual store or is just like an online thing?”
Me: “……”
SC: “Like no jokes, I just wanna know.”
Me: "Bye bye now."
SC: "W-<click>"
If this is the question that has so much haunting importance to you at 3am than yours truly is a sad, pathetic little existence isn’t it? You’re really not prank calling me are you? This is really important to you. This is it. This is your life. In a nutshell. Cracked open for all the world to see its dingy, pecan sadness. At the bottom of a dumpster outside a cheap Chinese restaurant, permanently glued in the corner by old soy sauce so not even the garbage truck can take it away from the refuse laden Hell in which it dwells.
( I ended up hanging up on this little twat another 10-15 times after this. Once I had his caller ID I just hung up immediately or let him rot on hold for 15 minutes till he gave up. He even tried calling from a different phone number to get past it. )
IT HURTZ
I have a headache this evening on a level that no mortal being should be forced to experience. A sort of “There are gremlins in my head. Running with scissors.” sort of level. So I may be making my saving throws throughout this shift report with a +5 Bitter Vitriol penalty.
I did attempt to use my various painkillers upon it, however its largely been like throwing Chiclets at a tank.
The Scent of Failure
This evening I had a call from a poor lad named Peter. Whom, while he did not state it, I assume has the suffix “The Unfortunate” amongst the other villagers. Since over the duration of a 9 minute call he managed to select the specific item and size that we didn’t have in stock for at least 9 different items. One after another. As if driven by some cruel, unseen force he would pick an item and than a size, and that size would be out of stock. His ability to do this repeated was uncanny.
Each failure would result in him uttering an extended “Awwwwwww shit!” like a pimp from a bad 1980’s cable show. Which, judging by the items he was attempting to order, he isn’t really that far off from fashion wise.
Parenting Fail
So....I was over at <grocery store near office> this evening waiting in line. The store is very busy. When I notice a rather small she cub milling around the line at about knee level. Couldn't have been older than 4 tops. Whenever I see a randomly meandering child my CS instincts kick in and I immediately look around for an attached parental unit. But can spot no such unit and this kid looks like she's starting to achieve panic levels.
Luckily, she's smarter than whomever or whatever her parents are and went straight to a store employee and told her that she was lost.
Now, for reference, this is a grocery store, so it is rather large. Not a place you want to take your eyes off a whelping in. Especially not at 11pm. Though I can understand if one managed to dart out of sight around an aisle or something but still.
The clerk does a PA announcement for the poor thing's parents. Now, the line isn't moving particularly fast so I'm not getting out of here any time soon. But I'm right near the service desk, so I begin to await the arrival of the parental unit(s). Thus I wait......annnd I wait.....and I wait.
No one comes forward to claim the girl.
A few more minutes pass.....and I notice another knee high whelping milling about the line in confusion. A lad this time, a year older than the other one and noticeably related. He wanders aimlessly till the clerk herds him up too.
From what I gather, mommy couldn't bother coming to retrieve her lost, terrified daughter. So she sent her brother up front to get his sister. Even though he's 5 at the most, and just as lost and confused as his sister is. So now the staff have both of them behind cowering behind the service desk waiting for some sign of parental intervention.
By the time I'd left I still hadn't seen this halfwit of a woman finish her shopping and come up to get those two. ><
Checklist
Things I Have Learned So Far On This Call:
You have family in town.
Your mom is staying with you.
She lost your keys.
Your brother is here from Ireland.
You climbed in the window of your apartment.
Your apartment is across from the office.
You’re not a thief.
You would have fallen on your glass coffee table. If not for your brother.
He’s a high school principal. Your brother, that is.
You have to pick up some people at the airport.
Your brother can fit in the window.
You live by yourself. ( Wasn’t your mother staying with you? )
You were in the hospital. You had a head injury.
The hospital lost your keys.
Someone stole your food.
Your mother lost your glasses.
Twice.
You normally leave them in the bedroom.
Your brother came over on the ferry to give you a lift.
His name is Frank.
No not the brother from Ireland, that’s a different brother.
You had a guy named John over spraying for pests yesterday.
You had a gas leak the day before that.
You had two head injuries.
You’re organizing the family reunion.
Your place is clean.
You have everything you need for a party.
Things I Have Not Learned So Far On This Call:
Why the Hell you’re calling.
Catastrophic Failure
This evening further cemented my opinion that my bus is the cursed chariot. Although it did so in a rather entertaining, even spectacular way. So I’m not complaining. See my bus stop is just a little ways up from an intersection. So as I waited, in the rain and lightning, absently wondering to myself if I should really be holding an umbrella in a thunderstorm, I saw the bus pull up at the intersection.
So the bus pulls up to the intersection, stops, checks both ways, and begins to pull out…..when some simian lunatic comes screaming down the cross street in his little wannabe drag racer sedan and makes the most fantastic decision: Hey! That bus is pulling into the intersection, but it’s sloooooow. I R FAST. I bet I can swerve around the front of it and keep going before it pulls too far into the intersection.
Yeah, well, no, no you can’t. I could only watch in awe as he made the attempt, only to have the bus clip his car in a fabulously expensive display of stupidity that I immediately thanked Buddha for allowing me to witness. See, bus’s don’t exactly dodge very well. So it’s not like the bus driver can swerve nor suddenly halt the forward momentum of the Titantic from clipping this guy’s iceberg white sedan. So both of them grind to a halt together and the bus driver just slams the horn, causing the other guy to reverse off of the bus like a beached whale rolling shamefully back into the ocean.
But that wasn’t the end of it. Oh no. The bus driver came flying out of the bus and ran over to the guys car to start verbally fisting him. I was too far away to make out the words, but I could certainly hear. He chewed him out for a good minute or two while the bus sat in the middle of the intersection. After which I assume he etched the “I got hit by a bus” Translink phone number onto the guys forehead and stomped back to his bus.
When I got on everyone on the bus was wide eyed and dead silent like daddy had just hit mommy at the dinner table.
Benefit of the Doubt
Client: “Yeah, hi, <client company> here. That call you just passed me a case from <company>? The number isn’t in service.”
Me: “hmm….alright. Let me go back check the call log and double check that number for you, than I’ll give you a call back in a couple minutes?”
Client: “Sounds good.”
I am highly doubtful that I have performed any sort of error when transcribing those digits as I distinctly recall confirming them not once but twice with the caller. However, I am benevolent if nothing else. So I will entertain this….fancy…of yours for a moment at least. If only to humour you. Let us see…….
Lets see......Nope, that was the right number. Oh, but, I suppose there is no way this could be a failing on your end. So allow me to extend my benefit of the doubt from the regions of unlikely all the way out to not a chance. Let’s see…..no, no that’s the number on their website too. So me, caller ID, the call recording and Google all say this is your fault.
Listen.
Me: “Alright, what size?”
SC: “2XL”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have that in 2XL.”
SC: “Oh, um, how about xxxx-xx?”
Me: “Hmmm, yes, I have that one in 2XL.”
SC: “Do you have it in 2XL?”
Nope. I did have it in 2XL. But it seems to have gone out of stock in the last 4.3 seconds. Terribly sorry.
Stop. It.
When I said the manager would be there in 5 minutes, I didn’t mean call back once every minute for 5 minutes to complain that he isn’t there yet. My initial statement sort of implied that it would be 5 minutes and you should wait out the duration of those 5 minutes. At least, that’s how any sane, functional human being would interpret that statement. But it seems that you don’t have either of these qualities in your possession at the present time.
Next time this occurs, if you’d be so good to just state that right up front it would help me out immensely. Really, I know it would take just a little extra time to explain but me and every other person you encounter in your life would really appreciate it. Just a little kindness up front is all I ask. Just a quick “Oh hey by the way I have a damaged mind and the patience of a 4 year old on an IV drip of Red Bull. Just FYI.”.
You know, common courtesy.
How The Hell...
( This guy is calling our corporate toll free number....somehow. )
Me: “Good even-“
SC: “<Beep>”
Me: “<compa-“
SC: “<beep>”
Me: “-help you?”
SC: “<beep>”
STOP. DIALING. You have already summoned a voice. There is no need to continue ham fisting the keypad.
Me: “Hello?”
SC: “<beep>”
Me: “Helloooo?”
SC: “Hello.”
Me: “Can I help you?”
SC: “Yes, <mutter> number!”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “I’m trying to talk to India!!!”
…all of it? At once? Does India really have a number for that?
Me: “O-“
SC: “What the f**k is the problem!?!?”
Me: “You’re calling the wrong number.”
From here on I cannot begin to transcribe the noises he was making, as they did not seem to correspond to any known letter or sound my lips are capable of producing. So I shall use a similar procedure to what I assume he was doing in his head and just slam my face into the keyboard at random.
SC: “RAWRK:ASKLFJ MINUTES”
Me: “…what?”
SC: “ADJAJP)@JT@”
Me: “What was that sorry?”
SC: “JPjPJF@F number!”
Me: “You’re calling the wrong number, I can’t help you.”
SC: “AJDAljk I call the number! Ok. I call you later. <click>”
Please don’t. My face still hurts from this call.
STOP.
( Again! )
Me: “Good even-“
SC: “<Beep>”
Me: “<co-“
SC: “<beep>”
Me: “-how ma-”
SC: “<beep>”
Stop.
Me: "Hel-"
SC: "<beep>"
Me: "llo?"
Stop it. Stop. Pressing. The. Numbers.
SC: "<beep>"
Me: "Sto-"
SC: "<beep>"
STOP. IT. NUMBER. PRESS. BAD. STOP.
SC: "<beep>"
Me: "Please stop d-"
SC: "<beep>"
PLEASE. STOP. DIALING.
Me: "Please stop th-"
SC: "<beep beep>"
STOP IT YOU LATEX FUCK HAMMOCK. STOP. STOP. STOP PRESSING THE NUMBERS. THERE IS NO NEED TO DIAL ANY FURTHER. SWEET MOTHER OF GOD ON A GREEK PITA ON EBAY, FUCKING STOP.
Softball
“Oh hi, it’sa Luigi from <Italian company>”
It'sa Luigi you say? …...nah, too easy.
10 Minutes Later
“Hello, it’sa Mario from <same company>”
....wow you're just asking for it aren't you?
LISTEN.
Me: “Good evening, <company> tech support.”
SC: “Is this the Pizza Factory?”
If you could pull the IV drip out of your arm for 30 seconds that question wouldn’t have been necessary.
PANTZ
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “Yeah! Of course!”
Right, silly me assuming you’d want anything less than the $500 worth of items you already asked for. I should have know. I mean, obviously you’d just pack in every possible item you could fit under the $900 COD order limit. Stupid of me to assume you have any sense of fiscal responsibility and might not want to blow near a grand on pants in a single phone call. I know, naïve. I’m sorry. I apologize. It won’t happen again.
....whoa whoa, dude. I was kidding. You didn’t really have to do it. You could have stopped at the $500 mark. You didn’t have to cram the order right up to $897.23. Of pants. OF PANTS. Neigh a grand worth of PANTS. Oh…sorry, you’re right, I’m exaggerating. My bad.
You ordered a belt too.
annnnd rest....for the moment.
Seriously...I've kept track
Me: “Ok, and by credit card or COD?”
C: “Credit card.”
Ok, by CO-….wait, what? CREDIT card? The….bu….what? Are you sure? Do you really know what a credit card is? You’re not just making some tragic mistake with the mail in contest entry card from the back of a box of Fruit Loops? You….you really have a credit card? All the way up in those barren arctic lands? You’re not just trying to follow your nose to a trip for 2 to Disneyworld? I don’t believe you. Describe it to me. Explain the object you hold in your weathered paws that you believe to be a card of credit. So that I may decide if that is truly what you hold.
Because currently I can count the number of credit card orders I’ve had on this line in the last 5 years on one hand. If you truly have a credit card there, than the new tally will force me to use both hands. That’s a commitment I’m not yet willing to make. So forgive my skepticism.
The Wha?
I have no idea what “Screams of alcohol” are or why they’re seeping into your apartment and are so strong you can’t sleep because of the smell. I can sort of reverse engineer “screams of alcohol” to perhaps mean a loud party? But how precisely do you smell a scream? Is the smell of the party too strong? There are just too many logical disconnects in your statement for me to safely plan a route from point A to point B that doesn’t involve wandering naked into grizzly territory trying to carry a bottle of A1 steak sauce without using my hands.
Luckily, you hung up without giving me your name or number or anything. So I was saved having to attempt this poorly planned expedition.
No.
SC: “Ya wif me, boss?”
Well, I am present in this conversation…with you, so I shall assume that I meet the criteria of at least half of that statement. However, I do not recall being your employer. Unless you have just declared me as such and sworn your allegiance to me. In which case, I am flattered by your sudden proclamation but I’m afraid I simply can’t accept your services. If pop culture has taught me anything, it’s that you don’t hire incompetents to form the backbone of your evil empire’s military forces. As they are easily defeated by teams of teenagers in spandex, talking animals, plucky 6 year olds and Captain Planet. The four main groups that will naturally rise up to oppose and any dark empire I might form.
I Knew It!
Me: “Alright, do you have a pen there?”
SC: “No…..um, I have a crayon though.”
Thank you for confirming everything I have long suspected and joked over about my callers in a single sentence.
Curb Your Beast
Also, to the girl in front of me in line at <grocery store>. I just have 3 quick points I would like to review with you:
1) I didn’t know they made jeans in lemon yellow. Where in the world did you find your banana pantaloons? ( Banataloons? )
2) I’m pretty sure they don’t train pugs as certified service dogs. So your cover story for why its in the store is suspect. Leave the beast outside while you’re in a store full of food.
3) Turn around, your four legged shovelmouth is eating a box of Juicyfruit.
Its Not That Hard
Me: “Ok, and the item number please?”
SC: “The wha?”
Me: “The item number, please?”
SC: “What do you mean?!”
Me: “….what’s the number beside the picture of the item you’d like to order?”
SC: “Oh! Uh, wait, gotta find it…..ummmmmmmmmmmmm………………….”
I thought my directions were quite specific. You are seeking a picture of the thing you desire. Which I assume you have at some point be held before, else you would not be so enamoured with lust for it. Once you have located the picture in question, you must search the immediate vicinity for a number of some sort. Now, you will have to peel your eyes away from the object of your lust for a moment in order to do this. But rest assured you can keep it in your peripheral vision the entire time, so you should be ok.
Once you have located this number, speak it aloud into the receiver and like some sort of third rate genie with a 2 week lag time, I will grant you what you desire.
"Humour"
Me: “Good morning, <company>-”
SC: “Good morning, <company>.”
Me: “….Hi.”
SC: “How is <company> today?”
Me: “…….good.”
Ooooh, wait, I get it. You’re trying to be witty. By making like my name is <company> because I said <company>, ha ha, yes, good show. How very droll of you. Why your pie hole must be just a fount of cleverness and originality that brings mirth to all you encounter on a daily basis. It must be a spectacle like none other on earth. All who overhear it must become enraptured by its siren song and follow in your wake so that they may worship and labour under this false god that is the hole in your face.
Also, I have been told that I am sarcastic. I don’t know where anyone would get such an impression.
Dancing Mad
Ahhh, I love the ones that fight you tooth and nail over every single dry, stale morsel of personal information. As if revealing their true name or email address would grant others ritualistic power over them. This woman was particularly tight sphinctered. It was like some sort of elaborate multi-stage boss battle and I had neglected to stock up on Tonics before I left town.
Form 1:
The First Name ( 1500 HP )
This was the extent of information I was initially able to obtain. Requests for a last name were met with Ignore 1. This wasn’t a particularly difficult battle as I was able to merely cast Silence to stop her from casting. At which point she admitted her last name….
Form 2:
The Last Name ( 3000 HP, Immune to Sleep, Weak vs Fire )
Now that I had revealed her full identity, things got a bit trickier. She had caught on to my attack patterns and was being particularly resilient to my requests for an address. She began using I Don’t Know Why You Need It, which is difficult to counter as any the damage from any move involving Logic or Reason will only deal 20% of its normal damage. Since Logic and Reason are the only two characters in my party, this put me in a rather difficult position. Logic was actually beaten down twice, but I did bring a couple of Phoenix Downs ( Sorry, Fenix Downs ) so tragedy was averted.
Well, technically Sarcasm is in the party too, but I try to keep skipping his turn as I value my continued employment.
Still, I managed to slowly whittle her down and pulled an address out of her piece by stubborn piece.
Form 3:
The Address ( 99,999 HP, Immune to Sleep, Confuse, Berzerk. Strong vs Ice, Fire, Bolt. Weak vs Cheetos. )
This is where the real trouble began. When I went for an email address. I was immediately hit with Stonewall and there’s really nothing you can do to counter Stonewall. I tried seeing if I could deal enough damage to get through it, but Logic and Reason’s attacks just bounced off it. I could try attacking with Sarcasm, but something tells me that would actually make her gain HP.
Despite my best efforts, I was beaten down, my MP ran low and I was forced to hold down the shoulder buttons and flee.
Form 4:
Paranoia ( ?????? HP, Unstable. Immune to Logic and Reason. )
Even after I managed to escape a minute later I blundered straight back into her, this time as a random encounter. She called back again to make sure that I deleted the information I got out of her in the previous call before she refused to give me anymore and hung up on me. As she actually seems to be under the belief that I am so desperate to know the inner workings of her bland, uninteresting life that I would desperately scribble away any bare shreds of information I could find about her. In the hopes that I could cobble together the barest sketch of her person that I could hang in my basement shrine so that I could worship her opulence from afar.
You Tread a Dark Path, Boy.
Me: “Good evening, <company> renovations.”
SC: “Hi”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “How are you today?”
Me: “Good, can I help you?”
SC: “What do you guys specialize in?”
Me: “…..renovations?”
SC: “You don’t say!”
Me: “I thought that would be rather obvious. Is there something I can help you with?”
SC: “Not really. Bye!”
Me: “Bye.”
And herrrrrreeee we go….he’s 12 and he has a phone. No good can possibly come from this.
No, Really. Shoo.
Me: “Good evening, <company> renovations.”
SC: “I know you have nothing better to do and I have nothing better to do, so do you wanna just like, talk?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Why not?”
Me: “Because I don’t like you.”
SC: “Why, is business booming right now?”
Me: “Oh yes, quite.”
SC: “That’s good.”
Me: “Yes…....quite.”
SC: “What are your interests? Do you like football?”
Me: “You’re really bored aren’t you?”
SC: “Yeah…I have no life.”
Me: “Yes, that’s painfully obvious. Bye bye now.”
SC: "Wa-<click>"
At first I thought he was just prank calling, but I did detect a faint wiff of desperation in his prepubescent voice. A hollow loneliness if you will. As if his life had somehow lost purpose all of a sudden and he was trying to find something to fill this emptiness inside him….
Oh, wait, I get it. The World of Warcraft servers are down, aren’t they? You poor thing.
Dude.....seriously
Me: “Good evening, <company> renovations.”
SC: “Why did you hang up on me before?”
Me: “For the same reason I’m about to hang up on you again.”
SC: “Wait wait! Don’t hang up on me yet!”
Me: “……”
SC: “I just wanna ask, is this like an actual store or is just like an online thing?”
Me: “……”
SC: “Like no jokes, I just wanna know.”
Me: "Bye bye now."
SC: "W-<click>"
If this is the question that has so much haunting importance to you at 3am than yours truly is a sad, pathetic little existence isn’t it? You’re really not prank calling me are you? This is really important to you. This is it. This is your life. In a nutshell. Cracked open for all the world to see its dingy, pecan sadness. At the bottom of a dumpster outside a cheap Chinese restaurant, permanently glued in the corner by old soy sauce so not even the garbage truck can take it away from the refuse laden Hell in which it dwells.
( I ended up hanging up on this little twat another 10-15 times after this. Once I had his caller ID I just hung up immediately or let him rot on hold for 15 minutes till he gave up. He even tried calling from a different phone number to get past it. )
IT HURTZ
I have a headache this evening on a level that no mortal being should be forced to experience. A sort of “There are gremlins in my head. Running with scissors.” sort of level. So I may be making my saving throws throughout this shift report with a +5 Bitter Vitriol penalty.
I did attempt to use my various painkillers upon it, however its largely been like throwing Chiclets at a tank.
The Scent of Failure
This evening I had a call from a poor lad named Peter. Whom, while he did not state it, I assume has the suffix “The Unfortunate” amongst the other villagers. Since over the duration of a 9 minute call he managed to select the specific item and size that we didn’t have in stock for at least 9 different items. One after another. As if driven by some cruel, unseen force he would pick an item and than a size, and that size would be out of stock. His ability to do this repeated was uncanny.
Each failure would result in him uttering an extended “Awwwwwww shit!” like a pimp from a bad 1980’s cable show. Which, judging by the items he was attempting to order, he isn’t really that far off from fashion wise.
Parenting Fail
So....I was over at <grocery store near office> this evening waiting in line. The store is very busy. When I notice a rather small she cub milling around the line at about knee level. Couldn't have been older than 4 tops. Whenever I see a randomly meandering child my CS instincts kick in and I immediately look around for an attached parental unit. But can spot no such unit and this kid looks like she's starting to achieve panic levels.
Luckily, she's smarter than whomever or whatever her parents are and went straight to a store employee and told her that she was lost.
Now, for reference, this is a grocery store, so it is rather large. Not a place you want to take your eyes off a whelping in. Especially not at 11pm. Though I can understand if one managed to dart out of sight around an aisle or something but still.
The clerk does a PA announcement for the poor thing's parents. Now, the line isn't moving particularly fast so I'm not getting out of here any time soon. But I'm right near the service desk, so I begin to await the arrival of the parental unit(s). Thus I wait......annnd I wait.....and I wait.
No one comes forward to claim the girl.
A few more minutes pass.....and I notice another knee high whelping milling about the line in confusion. A lad this time, a year older than the other one and noticeably related. He wanders aimlessly till the clerk herds him up too.
From what I gather, mommy couldn't bother coming to retrieve her lost, terrified daughter. So she sent her brother up front to get his sister. Even though he's 5 at the most, and just as lost and confused as his sister is. So now the staff have both of them behind cowering behind the service desk waiting for some sign of parental intervention.
By the time I'd left I still hadn't seen this halfwit of a woman finish her shopping and come up to get those two. ><
Checklist
Things I Have Learned So Far On This Call:
You have family in town.
Your mom is staying with you.
She lost your keys.
Your brother is here from Ireland.
You climbed in the window of your apartment.
Your apartment is across from the office.
You’re not a thief.
You would have fallen on your glass coffee table. If not for your brother.
He’s a high school principal. Your brother, that is.
You have to pick up some people at the airport.
Your brother can fit in the window.
You live by yourself. ( Wasn’t your mother staying with you? )
You were in the hospital. You had a head injury.
The hospital lost your keys.
Someone stole your food.
Your mother lost your glasses.
Twice.
You normally leave them in the bedroom.
Your brother came over on the ferry to give you a lift.
His name is Frank.
No not the brother from Ireland, that’s a different brother.
You had a guy named John over spraying for pests yesterday.
You had a gas leak the day before that.
You had two head injuries.
You’re organizing the family reunion.
Your place is clean.
You have everything you need for a party.
Things I Have Not Learned So Far On This Call:
Why the Hell you’re calling.
Catastrophic Failure
This evening further cemented my opinion that my bus is the cursed chariot. Although it did so in a rather entertaining, even spectacular way. So I’m not complaining. See my bus stop is just a little ways up from an intersection. So as I waited, in the rain and lightning, absently wondering to myself if I should really be holding an umbrella in a thunderstorm, I saw the bus pull up at the intersection.
So the bus pulls up to the intersection, stops, checks both ways, and begins to pull out…..when some simian lunatic comes screaming down the cross street in his little wannabe drag racer sedan and makes the most fantastic decision: Hey! That bus is pulling into the intersection, but it’s sloooooow. I R FAST. I bet I can swerve around the front of it and keep going before it pulls too far into the intersection.
Yeah, well, no, no you can’t. I could only watch in awe as he made the attempt, only to have the bus clip his car in a fabulously expensive display of stupidity that I immediately thanked Buddha for allowing me to witness. See, bus’s don’t exactly dodge very well. So it’s not like the bus driver can swerve nor suddenly halt the forward momentum of the Titantic from clipping this guy’s iceberg white sedan. So both of them grind to a halt together and the bus driver just slams the horn, causing the other guy to reverse off of the bus like a beached whale rolling shamefully back into the ocean.
But that wasn’t the end of it. Oh no. The bus driver came flying out of the bus and ran over to the guys car to start verbally fisting him. I was too far away to make out the words, but I could certainly hear. He chewed him out for a good minute or two while the bus sat in the middle of the intersection. After which I assume he etched the “I got hit by a bus” Translink phone number onto the guys forehead and stomped back to his bus.
When I got on everyone on the bus was wide eyed and dead silent like daddy had just hit mommy at the dinner table.
Benefit of the Doubt
Client: “Yeah, hi, <client company> here. That call you just passed me a case from <company>? The number isn’t in service.”
Me: “hmm….alright. Let me go back check the call log and double check that number for you, than I’ll give you a call back in a couple minutes?”
Client: “Sounds good.”
I am highly doubtful that I have performed any sort of error when transcribing those digits as I distinctly recall confirming them not once but twice with the caller. However, I am benevolent if nothing else. So I will entertain this….fancy…of yours for a moment at least. If only to humour you. Let us see…….
Lets see......Nope, that was the right number. Oh, but, I suppose there is no way this could be a failing on your end. So allow me to extend my benefit of the doubt from the regions of unlikely all the way out to not a chance. Let’s see…..no, no that’s the number on their website too. So me, caller ID, the call recording and Google all say this is your fault.
Listen.
Me: “Alright, what size?”
SC: “2XL”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have that in 2XL.”
SC: “Oh, um, how about xxxx-xx?”
Me: “Hmmm, yes, I have that one in 2XL.”
SC: “Do you have it in 2XL?”
Nope. I did have it in 2XL. But it seems to have gone out of stock in the last 4.3 seconds. Terribly sorry.
Stop. It.
When I said the manager would be there in 5 minutes, I didn’t mean call back once every minute for 5 minutes to complain that he isn’t there yet. My initial statement sort of implied that it would be 5 minutes and you should wait out the duration of those 5 minutes. At least, that’s how any sane, functional human being would interpret that statement. But it seems that you don’t have either of these qualities in your possession at the present time.
Next time this occurs, if you’d be so good to just state that right up front it would help me out immensely. Really, I know it would take just a little extra time to explain but me and every other person you encounter in your life would really appreciate it. Just a little kindness up front is all I ask. Just a quick “Oh hey by the way I have a damaged mind and the patience of a 4 year old on an IV drip of Red Bull. Just FYI.”.
You know, common courtesy.
How The Hell...
( This guy is calling our corporate toll free number....somehow. )
Me: “Good even-“
SC: “<Beep>”
Me: “<compa-“
SC: “<beep>”
Me: “-help you?”
SC: “<beep>”
STOP. DIALING. You have already summoned a voice. There is no need to continue ham fisting the keypad.
Me: “Hello?”
SC: “<beep>”
Me: “Helloooo?”
SC: “Hello.”
Me: “Can I help you?”
SC: “Yes, <mutter> number!”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “I’m trying to talk to India!!!”
…all of it? At once? Does India really have a number for that?
Me: “O-“
SC: “What the f**k is the problem!?!?”
Me: “You’re calling the wrong number.”
From here on I cannot begin to transcribe the noises he was making, as they did not seem to correspond to any known letter or sound my lips are capable of producing. So I shall use a similar procedure to what I assume he was doing in his head and just slam my face into the keyboard at random.
SC: “RAWRK:ASKLFJ MINUTES”
Me: “…what?”
SC: “ADJAJP)@JT@”
Me: “What was that sorry?”
SC: “JPjPJF@F number!”
Me: “You’re calling the wrong number, I can’t help you.”
SC: “AJDAljk I call the number! Ok. I call you later. <click>”
Please don’t. My face still hurts from this call.
STOP.
( Again! )
Me: “Good even-“
SC: “<Beep>”
Me: “<co-“
SC: “<beep>”
Me: “-how ma-”
SC: “<beep>”
Stop.
Me: "Hel-"
SC: "<beep>"
Me: "llo?"
Stop it. Stop. Pressing. The. Numbers.
SC: "<beep>"
Me: "Sto-"
SC: "<beep>"
STOP. IT. NUMBER. PRESS. BAD. STOP.
SC: "<beep>"
Me: "Please stop d-"
SC: "<beep>"
PLEASE. STOP. DIALING.
Me: "Please stop th-"
SC: "<beep beep>"
STOP IT YOU LATEX FUCK HAMMOCK. STOP. STOP. STOP PRESSING THE NUMBERS. THERE IS NO NEED TO DIAL ANY FURTHER. SWEET MOTHER OF GOD ON A GREEK PITA ON EBAY, FUCKING STOP.
Softball
“Oh hi, it’sa Luigi from <Italian company>”
It'sa Luigi you say? …...nah, too easy.
10 Minutes Later
“Hello, it’sa Mario from <same company>”
....wow you're just asking for it aren't you?
LISTEN.
Me: “Good evening, <company> tech support.”
SC: “Is this the Pizza Factory?”
If you could pull the IV drip out of your arm for 30 seconds that question wouldn’t have been necessary.
PANTZ
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “Yeah! Of course!”
Right, silly me assuming you’d want anything less than the $500 worth of items you already asked for. I should have know. I mean, obviously you’d just pack in every possible item you could fit under the $900 COD order limit. Stupid of me to assume you have any sense of fiscal responsibility and might not want to blow near a grand on pants in a single phone call. I know, naïve. I’m sorry. I apologize. It won’t happen again.
....whoa whoa, dude. I was kidding. You didn’t really have to do it. You could have stopped at the $500 mark. You didn’t have to cram the order right up to $897.23. Of pants. OF PANTS. Neigh a grand worth of PANTS. Oh…sorry, you’re right, I’m exaggerating. My bad.
You ordered a belt too.
annnnd rest....for the moment.
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