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Wherein We Fear The Contents Of The Box
A few select non work specific incidents from the last couple weeks. Also, I needed to vent. >.>
Hopefully I'm not repeating anything, I'm not 100% sure where I left off in my trauma so to speak.
No Thanks
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “Oh…damn, I don’t know. You got me!”
Unless you have a number written on your ass that corresponds to the prize I’ve won at the fair, you can keep you.
Of Course Of Course
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “……..burrrurhurhurhur”
I think you’ve gravely misunderstood me. I said “Your phone number please” not “Can you impersonate a horse”.
SC: “It’s xxx………burrrhurhurhur”
Seriously, dude, number. Not horse.
Camping
SC: “Do you have a Robert that’s camping there?”
Me: “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am”
SC: “This isn’t a camp site?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “Oh. Well, is there a Robert camping there?”
That depends, is Robert an old timey train hopping hobo? Because I don’t see any other possible reason why Robert might be just randomly camping in our parking lot. I mean, really, do you know how amazingly stupid that question was? No, of course not. If you did it wouldn’t have made it out of your head. So you’re going to have to trust me here: That question was amazingly stupid. Just so you know. It doesn’t seem like you have any real external benchmark to give you a frame of reference for how much of a god damn idiot you are. So I’d really like to help out if I can.
That’s what I’m here for after all, to help.
Oh, Well Then
SC: “Me and my cat Fifi have a problem with the resident manager.”
Oh! Well, in that case. I mean, if it was just you I was going to just blow you off and take a message. But if Her Royal FluffyCheekikins has a problem too I vow to give this my utmost attention and not rest till I have resolved this fully to her Snugglypuff’s satisfaction.
Woosh
SC: “Is this Yellow Cab?”
Me: “No, sorry. You have the wrong number.”
SC: “This a cab company?”
The chances of you having called the wrong number yet still somehow ended up at the right place are so infinitesimal as to be outright laughable. My only regret is that you cannot hear me rolling my eyes at your hopefulness. But if you wish to imagine the sound that they might make, I always envisioned it as a sort of sarcastic “whoosh” noise. Like “wah-oosh” as spoken by Garth from Wayne’s World.
Feel free to picture it in your head for a moment. I can wait.
Comedy
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Amanda”
Me: “Can you spell it for me please?”
SC: “……..um.....Amanda.”
This scenario plays out so often I’m beginning to wonder if it’s not just some elaborate prank being pulled on me by the entirety of northern Canada. Granted, that would require an unprecedented level of coordination. Which is not a word I would use to describe anyone I’ve ever spoken to on this line unless preceded by the words “A tragic lack of”.
No, I’m pretty sure what passes for comedy in the northern reaches basically consists of jumping out from behind a beer cooler, pointing at someone and yelling “Haha, you’re a fart.”. Then someone wearing an abundance of plaid and two caps at the same time ( one on backwards of course ) would look at you and go “Oh SNAP! You dun got told!”. Then everyone would laugh so hard they might even drop their beer.
But I doubt it.
Pick Up Artist
Public Transit Presents: Pick Up Lines That Will Never Work:
“Hey baby, what’s your name? …….Really? What a coincidence! That’s my daughter’s name too!”. Be sure to be carrying a box of wine for added impact. Because nothing says “romance” like wine in a box.
Right-O
Me: “Good morning, thank you for calling <company>, how may I help you?"
SC: “Get a towel, its going down the crack!”
.....Goodnight folks!
Highly Doubtful
SC: “Is anyone in the office right now?”
Not unless they’re robbing it.
Abandon Ship
Me: “May I have your postal code please, ma’am?”
SC: “H7.”
Me: “………………H7?”
SC: “……….H7”
Are you…..trying to sink my battleship?
There's Always One
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “….uhhhhh……can uhhhh…….I get….uhhhhhhhhh……..a t-shirt?
Whether or not you can acquire the garment you seek will depend on how much coherency you can manage from here on in. But truth be told, my friend, the outlook is grim.
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “…..uhhhhh……….Frank?”
Are you sure, sir? You can take another minute or so if you like. The hamster in the wheel that is your brain seems to be rather winded. Maybe you should let him catch his breath.
Me: “Alright, and your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “Uh….xxxx?”
Me: “The entire number, please?”
SC: “Ummmmmm…..xxxxx……555?”
Me: “555 is the area code?”
SC: “555xx.”
Me: “Sorry, I don’t quite understand. Can you give me the entire number from the beginning, please?”
SC: “xxxxxxx.”
Me: “What is your area code though, please?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx.”
Me: “Okay, sir, you've given me too many numbers altogether. So what is your area code, please?”
SC: “1-800-xxx-xxxx.”
Me: “.....Are you reading that off the catalog, sir?”
SC: “Uhhhh..”
You are, aren’t you? You have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about do you? You don’t even entirely grasp what a phone even is, do you? This is all strange, uncharted territory and your hamster only has three legs.
Me: “Alright, can I have the entire phone number, from the beginning, please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “What’s the entire phone number please?”
SC: “xxx”
Me: “Alright, but I need the entire number sir. With the area code.”
SC: “On the book?”
Me: “No, I need the area code for your phone number please, sir”
SC: “1-800”
Me: “No, your area code, please. Not ours.”
SC: “555”
Me: “The area code is 555?”
SC: “Uhhhh…………………….1-800”
Me: “That’s not it, sir. I need your area code.”
SC: “xxx I think.”
Me: “That’s your area code?”
SC: “Yep.”
Me: “Alright, so what’s the entire number then with area code, please?”
SC: “I dun understand.”
Me: “I need your entire phone number please. All 10 numbers.”
SC: “Uhhhhh………………uhhhhhmmmmmmm………um………………..uhhhhh…………m y……area phone number? Pin number?”
Me: “The area code of your phone number. It’s the first 3 numbers.”
SC: “Uhhh……………..ehhuummm……xxx?”
Me: “The 3 before that sir.”
SC: “Ohh…….<actual area code>?”
Three legs and asthma.
Me: “And your postal code, please, sir?”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “Your postal code, please?”
SC: “Hyuhhhh…..da number?”
Me: “Your postal code, please sir”
SC: “Uhh….its uhh…….t-shirt.”
Right, so:
Frank
PO Box 562
Somewhere, T-Shirt.
Somehow I don’t think Canada Post will accept that.
Me: “No, what is your postal code, please?”
SC: “Pole code?”
Me: “Postal code.”
SC: “I don’t know what’s that.”
Me: “Its part of your address sir. If we don’t have it, we can’t send your order.”
SC: “Uh………pole…code? What that?”
Me: “Postal code, sir.”
SC: “Uhhhhhh……….maybe uhhh…..northern?”
Me: “Postal code, sir. Without it we can’t mail anything to you.”
SC: “Uhhh…..its my first time to order, I dun understand.”
Yes, we’ve quite clearly established that.
Me: “We need a full address to send it too, otherwise we can’t send you anything, sir. The postal code is part of your address.”
SC: “Uhhh, oh, okay………I dun………understand.”
Me: “I need your postal code, sir.”
SC: “Like….my order?”
Me: “Your postal code, it’s part of your address.”
SC: “Dress?”
Me: “Sir, you can’t place an order without a full address.”
SC: “Uhhhh……N-A-W.”
Me: “That wouldn’t be it, sir.”
SC: “Can I try to call back after when I understand?”
You can, but I fear by the time that actually happens I’ll have long since retired.
The Box
Why hello, incredibly creepy dude on the bus. If I might have a quick word?
You see...oh how do I put this? You know that rather colourful box you have there? Yes, that one. When I first got on the bus and saw you with it, I figured it was a LEGO set or some other toy that transcends age that a grown man nerd might have pilfered from Toys R Us at the mall. Your wide eyed excitement and obvious happiness at having scored this particular item were quite evident. As you were reading the back of the box, turning it around, looking at all the cool pictures and features. With a big grin on your face. I didn't think anything of it really.
This went on for several stops and I was kind of half napping waiting for mine. Then I looked up again and happened to notice that the front of the box was now facing me. That's when I read the one word on the box that changed my entire assessment of the situation. Turning amusement into creeping fear.
That word was "Anal".
So....sir. Since you are clearly not aware of this, I’m pretty sure you can get bags at…er…."grown up" stores just like any other store. There's no real need for you to just have the box out on your lap on the bus. No matter how awesome the....features....might be on your new toy, you can at least wait till you're off the bus before you begin to excitedly peruse them.
Because I'm pretty sure I speak for all of us on the bus when I say it's just a tad uncomfortable sitting near a clearly excited man holding a fist shaped item he's going to introduce to his fire exit later. Possibly at the earliest opportunity.
annnd rest. >.>
Hopefully I'm not repeating anything, I'm not 100% sure where I left off in my trauma so to speak.
No Thanks
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “Oh…damn, I don’t know. You got me!”
Unless you have a number written on your ass that corresponds to the prize I’ve won at the fair, you can keep you.
Of Course Of Course
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “……..burrrurhurhurhur”
I think you’ve gravely misunderstood me. I said “Your phone number please” not “Can you impersonate a horse”.
SC: “It’s xxx………burrrhurhurhur”
Seriously, dude, number. Not horse.
Camping
SC: “Do you have a Robert that’s camping there?”
Me: “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am”
SC: “This isn’t a camp site?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “Oh. Well, is there a Robert camping there?”
That depends, is Robert an old timey train hopping hobo? Because I don’t see any other possible reason why Robert might be just randomly camping in our parking lot. I mean, really, do you know how amazingly stupid that question was? No, of course not. If you did it wouldn’t have made it out of your head. So you’re going to have to trust me here: That question was amazingly stupid. Just so you know. It doesn’t seem like you have any real external benchmark to give you a frame of reference for how much of a god damn idiot you are. So I’d really like to help out if I can.
That’s what I’m here for after all, to help.
Oh, Well Then
SC: “Me and my cat Fifi have a problem with the resident manager.”
Oh! Well, in that case. I mean, if it was just you I was going to just blow you off and take a message. But if Her Royal FluffyCheekikins has a problem too I vow to give this my utmost attention and not rest till I have resolved this fully to her Snugglypuff’s satisfaction.
Woosh
SC: “Is this Yellow Cab?”
Me: “No, sorry. You have the wrong number.”
SC: “This a cab company?”
The chances of you having called the wrong number yet still somehow ended up at the right place are so infinitesimal as to be outright laughable. My only regret is that you cannot hear me rolling my eyes at your hopefulness. But if you wish to imagine the sound that they might make, I always envisioned it as a sort of sarcastic “whoosh” noise. Like “wah-oosh” as spoken by Garth from Wayne’s World.
Feel free to picture it in your head for a moment. I can wait.
Comedy
Me: “And your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Amanda”
Me: “Can you spell it for me please?”
SC: “……..um.....Amanda.”
This scenario plays out so often I’m beginning to wonder if it’s not just some elaborate prank being pulled on me by the entirety of northern Canada. Granted, that would require an unprecedented level of coordination. Which is not a word I would use to describe anyone I’ve ever spoken to on this line unless preceded by the words “A tragic lack of”.
No, I’m pretty sure what passes for comedy in the northern reaches basically consists of jumping out from behind a beer cooler, pointing at someone and yelling “Haha, you’re a fart.”. Then someone wearing an abundance of plaid and two caps at the same time ( one on backwards of course ) would look at you and go “Oh SNAP! You dun got told!”. Then everyone would laugh so hard they might even drop their beer.
But I doubt it.
Pick Up Artist
Public Transit Presents: Pick Up Lines That Will Never Work:
“Hey baby, what’s your name? …….Really? What a coincidence! That’s my daughter’s name too!”. Be sure to be carrying a box of wine for added impact. Because nothing says “romance” like wine in a box.
Right-O
Me: “Good morning, thank you for calling <company>, how may I help you?"
SC: “Get a towel, its going down the crack!”
.....Goodnight folks!
Highly Doubtful
SC: “Is anyone in the office right now?”
Not unless they’re robbing it.
Abandon Ship
Me: “May I have your postal code please, ma’am?”
SC: “H7.”
Me: “………………H7?”
SC: “……….H7”
Are you…..trying to sink my battleship?
There's Always One
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “….uhhhhh……can uhhhh…….I get….uhhhhhhhhh……..a t-shirt?
Whether or not you can acquire the garment you seek will depend on how much coherency you can manage from here on in. But truth be told, my friend, the outlook is grim.
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “…..uhhhhh……….Frank?”
Are you sure, sir? You can take another minute or so if you like. The hamster in the wheel that is your brain seems to be rather winded. Maybe you should let him catch his breath.
Me: “Alright, and your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “Uh….xxxx?”
Me: “The entire number, please?”
SC: “Ummmmmm…..xxxxx……555?”
Me: “555 is the area code?”
SC: “555xx.”
Me: “Sorry, I don’t quite understand. Can you give me the entire number from the beginning, please?”
SC: “xxxxxxx.”
Me: “What is your area code though, please?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx.”
Me: “Okay, sir, you've given me too many numbers altogether. So what is your area code, please?”
SC: “1-800-xxx-xxxx.”
Me: “.....Are you reading that off the catalog, sir?”
SC: “Uhhhh..”
You are, aren’t you? You have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about do you? You don’t even entirely grasp what a phone even is, do you? This is all strange, uncharted territory and your hamster only has three legs.
Me: “Alright, can I have the entire phone number, from the beginning, please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “What’s the entire phone number please?”
SC: “xxx”
Me: “Alright, but I need the entire number sir. With the area code.”
SC: “On the book?”
Me: “No, I need the area code for your phone number please, sir”
SC: “1-800”
Me: “No, your area code, please. Not ours.”
SC: “555”
Me: “The area code is 555?”
SC: “Uhhhh…………………….1-800”
Me: “That’s not it, sir. I need your area code.”
SC: “xxx I think.”
Me: “That’s your area code?”
SC: “Yep.”
Me: “Alright, so what’s the entire number then with area code, please?”
SC: “I dun understand.”
Me: “I need your entire phone number please. All 10 numbers.”
SC: “Uhhhhh………………uhhhhhmmmmmmm………um………………..uhhhhh…………m y……area phone number? Pin number?”
Me: “The area code of your phone number. It’s the first 3 numbers.”
SC: “Uhhh……………..ehhuummm……xxx?”
Me: “The 3 before that sir.”
SC: “Ohh…….<actual area code>?”
Three legs and asthma.
Me: “And your postal code, please, sir?”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “Your postal code, please?”
SC: “Hyuhhhh…..da number?”
Me: “Your postal code, please sir”
SC: “Uhh….its uhh…….t-shirt.”
Right, so:
Frank
PO Box 562
Somewhere, T-Shirt.
Somehow I don’t think Canada Post will accept that.
Me: “No, what is your postal code, please?”
SC: “Pole code?”
Me: “Postal code.”
SC: “I don’t know what’s that.”
Me: “Its part of your address sir. If we don’t have it, we can’t send your order.”
SC: “Uh………pole…code? What that?”
Me: “Postal code, sir.”
SC: “Uhhhhhh……….maybe uhhh…..northern?”
Me: “Postal code, sir. Without it we can’t mail anything to you.”
SC: “Uhhh…..its my first time to order, I dun understand.”
Yes, we’ve quite clearly established that.
Me: “We need a full address to send it too, otherwise we can’t send you anything, sir. The postal code is part of your address.”
SC: “Uhhh, oh, okay………I dun………understand.”
Me: “I need your postal code, sir.”
SC: “Like….my order?”
Me: “Your postal code, it’s part of your address.”
SC: “Dress?”
Me: “Sir, you can’t place an order without a full address.”
SC: “Uhhhh……N-A-W.”
Me: “That wouldn’t be it, sir.”
SC: “Can I try to call back after when I understand?”
You can, but I fear by the time that actually happens I’ll have long since retired.
The Box
Why hello, incredibly creepy dude on the bus. If I might have a quick word?
You see...oh how do I put this? You know that rather colourful box you have there? Yes, that one. When I first got on the bus and saw you with it, I figured it was a LEGO set or some other toy that transcends age that a grown man nerd might have pilfered from Toys R Us at the mall. Your wide eyed excitement and obvious happiness at having scored this particular item were quite evident. As you were reading the back of the box, turning it around, looking at all the cool pictures and features. With a big grin on your face. I didn't think anything of it really.
This went on for several stops and I was kind of half napping waiting for mine. Then I looked up again and happened to notice that the front of the box was now facing me. That's when I read the one word on the box that changed my entire assessment of the situation. Turning amusement into creeping fear.
That word was "Anal".
So....sir. Since you are clearly not aware of this, I’m pretty sure you can get bags at…er…."grown up" stores just like any other store. There's no real need for you to just have the box out on your lap on the bus. No matter how awesome the....features....might be on your new toy, you can at least wait till you're off the bus before you begin to excitedly peruse them.
Because I'm pretty sure I speak for all of us on the bus when I say it's just a tad uncomfortable sitting near a clearly excited man holding a fist shaped item he's going to introduce to his fire exit later. Possibly at the earliest opportunity.
annnd rest. >.>
I was always a fan of Wakko's Burp Operas. 
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