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Alas, Poor Mr Brown
Not much to report this week, as this week was rather complicated ( I've been mostly training new staff rather than manning the lines ). Granted, I noticed I still functioned as a filter for specialness. As regardless of how many calls I had the trainees take, they never once caught any of what could be reffered to as my sort of calls. Yet the moment I sat down....
Of Course
SC: “Uh…..I…uh….I have uh…..some ideas”
Oh…..goody. That’s what I like to hear from callers at this hour. Ideas.
SC: “I have an idea that I can still be able to get….uh….get uh…………………hello?”
Me: “Yes?”
SC: “Get uh…….um…………….what da……I’m talking about…..getting repeat of uh….Olympic game……uh…….you know. Uh…..China, China and uh, and, China and uh, US, contest. Get them to replay it.”
Alternatively, you could simply wait till the next Olympics......or was that idea? Oh, drat, there I went and spoiled it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean too. No no, its ok, go on. Tell me anyway. I try to act surprised.
SC: “Uh I….I…..CBC……….did…..C…………………….CBC, uh, said uh, they uh, they uh…….only uh. Um. Olympic, uh. China…….and uh……China. And uh………”
What’s that girl? Timmy’s varnishing a table in a poorly ventilated room?
Me: “I'm afraid you're calling the wrong number."
SC: “So that’s the end of my hope?”
….That was oddly fatalistic. Have I really well and truly crushed what barest sliver of hope you had left? Please say yes, because really it would just make my day. Don’t look at me like that. This is my Monday, remember. Nothing cures the Mondays like crushing the hopes and dreams of another human being and being able to witness the destruction first hand. To see them driven before you and hear the lamentations of their wom-…er…hmm. I sense that I have perhaps become sidetracked.
Anyway, you were saying?
Black Magic
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Yeeesss <click>”
....I probably don’t want to know the explanation for that, do I? It’ll probably be best for my mental wellbeing if I just pretend that was some random drunk dialer that got the wrong number. Instead of some weird, creepy old lady that said nothing but “Yesss” then hung up having successfully invoked the power of her gypsy curse on me with but a word.
Jokes on her though, I already own a cat. So I’m quite use to weird noises, uneasy feelings and dark shapes moving about in the dead of night. They don’t even wake me up anymore.
The Saga of Mr Brown
Hello again, Mr Brown. You’re becoming a fairly regular caller. Always with noise complaints. Always about the same suite above you. Always the same noise: “Banging”. Always with the same message for the office. Now, it’s not that I mind you calling regularly. You are free to call as much as you like…..provided I am not on shift. Otherwise I would really appreciate it if you could restrain yourself to one call every 24 hours. Still, I could cope with your persistent calling if not for one teeny tiny little thing you do:
You make me read back every message to you to ensure that I “got it” even if it’s the exact same message you left the last time you called….20 minutes ago. Your messages are only one sentence long and you force me to read them back with the punctuation. If you dictate that there should be an exclamation mark at the end of a sentence, I must likewise read back “Exclamation mark” to you when I reach the end of the sentence.
Otherwise you will flip your shiat on me and neigh demand punctuated justice be metted out.
Arrrrgh
SC: “My name is Lydia, I contacted Sarah online and she was suppose to send me a job application but I haven’t heard anything up until now.”
Me: “I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, well can you give me the number I can reach her on?”
How could I possibly know that? The things callers ask me on this line are becoming more astounding with each passing week. I cannot even muster anger or annoyance with you any longer. Only awe. Followed by the sad realization that most of you are walking proof that we as a species are doomed.
But mostly awe.
The Saga of Mr Brown #2
SC: “This time add TWO exclamation marks at the end!”
Two! Oh my god! Are you absolutely sure? Please, reconsider. This is not a path you should tread lightly. Once you begin to head down it, you may never be able to turn back. Are you really ok with that? You’ll be throwing away everything about yourself just to pursue the dark power of punctuation. It’s not too late though. You can still turn away from the temptation. You can still resist!
...What?
SC: “Can you send someone to take me to the hospital?”
Me: “I'm sorry, what? To the hospital?”
SC: “Yes, I don’t want to call an ambulance because they’re too loud.”
I'm terribly sorry but I cannot, in good conscious, get between Darwin and his prey.
The Saga of Mr Brown #3
SC: “The bitch is still banging around! THIS TIME YOU CAN ADD *THREE* EXCLAIMATION MARKS AT TH END!!!"
…Y…you’re truly lost to us now aren’t you? You have fallen completely into the darkness. Beyond light. Beyond redemption. Beyond the use of periods to end a sentence.
What? I Don't Even-
Ok, bear with me here. I just want to make sure I have all the details of your problem correct. It was a rather complex dillemma and I want to ensure complete accuracy before I attempt to solve it......
Right, so your lawyer, Dave, hired the Vancouver Police to pick you up off the street. They beat you, robbed you and locked you in a phone booth which is where you're currently calling me from. They are currently outside the phone booth mocking you. You need my help to get out of the phone booth and get back to Dubai, because you need to return to Somali in order to fight pirates on behalf of America. Does that about sum it up?
Right, got it. I'm on my way, hold tight!
And?
Me: “Alright, did you need immediate service or can it wait till the office opens?”
SC: “Well, my neighbour works for you guys.”
Me: “………..?”
SC: “…………”
…and….what? That doesn’t answer my question. I assume you were trying to indicate where I might locate a service tech capable of handling your problem. On the off chance that I took service calls without actually knowing what to do with them. Your concern that I might be a desk licking simpleton are appreciated, but unfounded. Worry not, I actually do know what I’m doing and I have not licked my desk for at least half an hour now. So your call is in good hands.
Yet Again
SC: “Yes uh, um, I just happen to get your phone number off the Internet. I'm looking for brother, we've been out of touch for a few years and-"
I sympathize, but yet again I must remind you, and all callers on this line, that my name is Gravekeeper. Not Varuna the All Knowing, God of sky and space. Whom, if I was such, I would not just be handing out my toll free number willy nilly on the Internet to you feeble mortals.
Me: “I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, do you know where I can call?”
Again, “God of Sky and Space” is not on my business card. “International Provider of Grinch Related Services” on the other hand.
A Cunning Plan
It does so amuse me when you call from out of province, are informed you are out of province and thus cannot order because we only ship locally, and you then hang up on me. Only to call back a few minutes later to attempt a clever ruse. Despite the fact I am not only the same operator, but that you still have a 416 area code showing on caller ID and are still not within the province anyway even if you did succeed in placing an order somehow. Which leads me to believe that your highly coveted “Master of Deception” title was in fact obtained by sending away 5 proofs of purchase from the back of specially marked boxes of Cocoa Puffs.
And......Again?
SC: “Hello, yeah. I wanna know how I get ta see somebody up in county. I wanna see ma boyfriend in the county.”
…..you’re calling to ask me how to go about visiting your boyfriend in prison? That’s….truly a new one, I must admit. I really have to hand this linecredit. The sheer breadth and scope of wrong numbers it receives is unlike any client we’ve ever had in the history of the company. It’s actually rather awe inspiring if you really think about it. Not that I want too.
The Saga of Mr Brown #4
Oh, Mr Brown. Will your torment never end? I must admit I wonder if there’s really a problem here or if you’re just somewhat….oh what’s the word I’m looking for? Ah yes, deranged. Seeing as you’re reached the point where you’re documenting the exact time of every noise you hear. Then insisting I record this time log word for word. In case future civilizations have a vested interested in your torments.
I would point out that some of the times you’ve given me are actually before the noise bylaw cut off. However, as I actually value my life and well being I shall restrain myself.
And.....Again.
SC: “I want to apply. I want something.”
Well, good thing you went into such elaborately intricate detail otherwise I would have absolutely and utterly no idea what it was you were calling for or why. Totally unlike every other call I’ve taken on this line. Truly, you have pulled ahead of the pack.
annnd rest.
Of Course
SC: “Uh…..I…uh….I have uh…..some ideas”
Oh…..goody. That’s what I like to hear from callers at this hour. Ideas.
SC: “I have an idea that I can still be able to get….uh….get uh…………………hello?”
Me: “Yes?”
SC: “Get uh…….um…………….what da……I’m talking about…..getting repeat of uh….Olympic game……uh…….you know. Uh…..China, China and uh, and, China and uh, US, contest. Get them to replay it.”
Alternatively, you could simply wait till the next Olympics......or was that idea? Oh, drat, there I went and spoiled it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean too. No no, its ok, go on. Tell me anyway. I try to act surprised.
SC: “Uh I….I…..CBC……….did…..C…………………….CBC, uh, said uh, they uh, they uh…….only uh. Um. Olympic, uh. China…….and uh……China. And uh………”
What’s that girl? Timmy’s varnishing a table in a poorly ventilated room?
Me: “I'm afraid you're calling the wrong number."
SC: “So that’s the end of my hope?”
….That was oddly fatalistic. Have I really well and truly crushed what barest sliver of hope you had left? Please say yes, because really it would just make my day. Don’t look at me like that. This is my Monday, remember. Nothing cures the Mondays like crushing the hopes and dreams of another human being and being able to witness the destruction first hand. To see them driven before you and hear the lamentations of their wom-…er…hmm. I sense that I have perhaps become sidetracked.
Anyway, you were saying?
Black Magic
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Yeeesss <click>”
....I probably don’t want to know the explanation for that, do I? It’ll probably be best for my mental wellbeing if I just pretend that was some random drunk dialer that got the wrong number. Instead of some weird, creepy old lady that said nothing but “Yesss” then hung up having successfully invoked the power of her gypsy curse on me with but a word.
Jokes on her though, I already own a cat. So I’m quite use to weird noises, uneasy feelings and dark shapes moving about in the dead of night. They don’t even wake me up anymore.
The Saga of Mr Brown
Hello again, Mr Brown. You’re becoming a fairly regular caller. Always with noise complaints. Always about the same suite above you. Always the same noise: “Banging”. Always with the same message for the office. Now, it’s not that I mind you calling regularly. You are free to call as much as you like…..provided I am not on shift. Otherwise I would really appreciate it if you could restrain yourself to one call every 24 hours. Still, I could cope with your persistent calling if not for one teeny tiny little thing you do:
You make me read back every message to you to ensure that I “got it” even if it’s the exact same message you left the last time you called….20 minutes ago. Your messages are only one sentence long and you force me to read them back with the punctuation. If you dictate that there should be an exclamation mark at the end of a sentence, I must likewise read back “Exclamation mark” to you when I reach the end of the sentence.
Otherwise you will flip your shiat on me and neigh demand punctuated justice be metted out.
Arrrrgh
SC: “My name is Lydia, I contacted Sarah online and she was suppose to send me a job application but I haven’t heard anything up until now.”
Me: “I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, well can you give me the number I can reach her on?”
How could I possibly know that? The things callers ask me on this line are becoming more astounding with each passing week. I cannot even muster anger or annoyance with you any longer. Only awe. Followed by the sad realization that most of you are walking proof that we as a species are doomed.
But mostly awe.
The Saga of Mr Brown #2
SC: “This time add TWO exclamation marks at the end!”
Two! Oh my god! Are you absolutely sure? Please, reconsider. This is not a path you should tread lightly. Once you begin to head down it, you may never be able to turn back. Are you really ok with that? You’ll be throwing away everything about yourself just to pursue the dark power of punctuation. It’s not too late though. You can still turn away from the temptation. You can still resist!
...What?
SC: “Can you send someone to take me to the hospital?”
Me: “I'm sorry, what? To the hospital?”
SC: “Yes, I don’t want to call an ambulance because they’re too loud.”
I'm terribly sorry but I cannot, in good conscious, get between Darwin and his prey.
The Saga of Mr Brown #3
SC: “The bitch is still banging around! THIS TIME YOU CAN ADD *THREE* EXCLAIMATION MARKS AT TH END!!!"
…Y…you’re truly lost to us now aren’t you? You have fallen completely into the darkness. Beyond light. Beyond redemption. Beyond the use of periods to end a sentence.
What? I Don't Even-
Ok, bear with me here. I just want to make sure I have all the details of your problem correct. It was a rather complex dillemma and I want to ensure complete accuracy before I attempt to solve it......
Right, so your lawyer, Dave, hired the Vancouver Police to pick you up off the street. They beat you, robbed you and locked you in a phone booth which is where you're currently calling me from. They are currently outside the phone booth mocking you. You need my help to get out of the phone booth and get back to Dubai, because you need to return to Somali in order to fight pirates on behalf of America. Does that about sum it up?
Right, got it. I'm on my way, hold tight!
And?
Me: “Alright, did you need immediate service or can it wait till the office opens?”
SC: “Well, my neighbour works for you guys.”
Me: “………..?”
SC: “…………”
…and….what? That doesn’t answer my question. I assume you were trying to indicate where I might locate a service tech capable of handling your problem. On the off chance that I took service calls without actually knowing what to do with them. Your concern that I might be a desk licking simpleton are appreciated, but unfounded. Worry not, I actually do know what I’m doing and I have not licked my desk for at least half an hour now. So your call is in good hands.
Yet Again
SC: “Yes uh, um, I just happen to get your phone number off the Internet. I'm looking for brother, we've been out of touch for a few years and-"
I sympathize, but yet again I must remind you, and all callers on this line, that my name is Gravekeeper. Not Varuna the All Knowing, God of sky and space. Whom, if I was such, I would not just be handing out my toll free number willy nilly on the Internet to you feeble mortals.
Me: “I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, do you know where I can call?”
Again, “God of Sky and Space” is not on my business card. “International Provider of Grinch Related Services” on the other hand.
A Cunning Plan
It does so amuse me when you call from out of province, are informed you are out of province and thus cannot order because we only ship locally, and you then hang up on me. Only to call back a few minutes later to attempt a clever ruse. Despite the fact I am not only the same operator, but that you still have a 416 area code showing on caller ID and are still not within the province anyway even if you did succeed in placing an order somehow. Which leads me to believe that your highly coveted “Master of Deception” title was in fact obtained by sending away 5 proofs of purchase from the back of specially marked boxes of Cocoa Puffs.
And......Again?
SC: “Hello, yeah. I wanna know how I get ta see somebody up in county. I wanna see ma boyfriend in the county.”
…..you’re calling to ask me how to go about visiting your boyfriend in prison? That’s….truly a new one, I must admit. I really have to hand this linecredit. The sheer breadth and scope of wrong numbers it receives is unlike any client we’ve ever had in the history of the company. It’s actually rather awe inspiring if you really think about it. Not that I want too.
The Saga of Mr Brown #4
Oh, Mr Brown. Will your torment never end? I must admit I wonder if there’s really a problem here or if you’re just somewhat….oh what’s the word I’m looking for? Ah yes, deranged. Seeing as you’re reached the point where you’re documenting the exact time of every noise you hear. Then insisting I record this time log word for word. In case future civilizations have a vested interested in your torments.
I would point out that some of the times you’ve given me are actually before the noise bylaw cut off. However, as I actually value my life and well being I shall restrain myself.
And.....Again.
SC: “I want to apply. I want something.”
Well, good thing you went into such elaborately intricate detail otherwise I would have absolutely and utterly no idea what it was you were calling for or why. Totally unlike every other call I’ve taken on this line. Truly, you have pulled ahead of the pack.
annnd rest.
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