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Bleh. =p
Overreact much?
I fail to believe you’re going to “have a heart attack” over the loss of $3 in the vending machine. This is also not some nefarious, cunning “rip off scheme” to prey on the infirmed at the hospital. In my world life and death do not hang in the balance over a $3 pizza pretzel. Unfortunately, you do not live in my world. You live in your world where it’s perfectly acceptable to throw a tantrum like a two year old over a pizza pretzel at 3am in the middle of a hospital no less. It sounds like a sad, sad little world with few visitors and declining property values.
Just for bonus points you also mentioned that every nurse on the floor warned you NOT to use that machine because something was wrong with it and it was eating change. But did that stop you? No, of course not. Her Majesty needs her pizza pretzel and she needs it now otherwise who knows what sort of cardiac failure might occur. Why, the saturated fats and salt are all that’s keeping her alive.
Someone get Bessie a cowlick, stat.
No, don't tell me.
SC: “My toilet won’t flush.”
Me: “Ok-“
SC: “and the seat broke off.”
Ok, I was following you up to that point. I understand the toilet’s inability to flush as it has perhaps clogged or otherwise backed up. But how in the Hell did you break the seat in the process? Wait…no, don’t tell me. I probably don’t want to know.
Where In The World Is-
SC: “You have to be a resident of BC to enter, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “I’m not, but my daughter is. Can I buy her a ticket?”
Me: “Sure, if you have her address.”
SC: “I don’t have her address…..I have her cell phone number?”
Me: “…..”
SC: “She works at the Banana Republic.”
Me: “….”
….do you think I know her or are you expecting me to be able to track her down based on your series of cryptic clues? Are you hoping a few more like maybe her shoe size and the amount of Achievement’s she’s racked up on X-Box Live and I’ll go “Oh, her! Ok.”? Do I sound like I shop at the Banana Republic? I don’t even know what the Banana Republic is. I assume it’s a republic that has somehow been formed around fruit and now offers franchising opportunities. There also seems to be some potential for monkeys or at the very least monkey like shenanigans, which, I will concede is always a positive. I do so enjoy shenanigans. Even if they are simian inspired.
Wait, hold on a sec……..I’ve been informed it is a clothing store by a coworker in a voice that suggests I am an idiot.
Damn, well, I guess that puts me one step closer to your Carmen Santiago. All I have to do now is find every Banana Republic in the city and steal cell phones from female employees until I find a match. Then when she's having me arrested I can yell "BUT YOUR MOTHER SENT ME!" as they shove me into the back of the squad car.
A Small Note Of Caution Should You Visit Canada
Attention tourists. You are standing between me, a Canadian, and my genetically disposed destination, Tim Horton’s. I don’t believe you realize the amount of sheer danger you are presently in. Move. Faster. My blood sings for maple sugar and you dare stand in its path?
I don't think you've thought all the way through your cunning plan.
12:29am:
Caller calls to report his power is out and have the on call electrician paged.
12:31am:
Calls back to complain he hasn’t had a call back yet. Also complains his cell phone battery is very low so he can’t keep calling like this.
12:32am:
Caller fails to realize he’s an idiot by continuing to use up his cell phone and tying up his own line so the on call cannot get through. The tenets of professionalism and company policy prevent me from pointing this out. Caller will remain in the dark both literally and figuratively.
Preparation
SC: “What’s the mailing address?”
Me: “It’s 7-“
SC: “Wait, let me get a pen & paper.”
Yes, that would be a good idea. An idea you should have had 30 seconds ago before you even touched the phone. Sadly, it did not, and I am forced to bear witness to your moment of stupidity. A moment which I myself will ever cherish even if it’s just another in a long string of forgettable daily failures for you.
What we had together was special, dammit! <sob>
867
Sure, every now and then you might be having a bad day, or be distracted or otherwise have a brain fart and start spelling your name the wrong way. But twice in a row? Then the only reason you got it right the third time was because someone in the background helped out? I don’t think you’re qualified to be using the phone. I’m not even sure you’re qualified to dress yourself yet. Perhaps you should just put the phone down, back away slowly, and go find an activity more appropriate to your level. Something that involves say, crayons and glitter, for example.
867
Me: “and your postal code please?”
SC: “It’s XX<static>XX”
Me: “I’m sorry, was that X-X-B?”
SC: “XX<Performance of oral sex on reciever>X””
Me: “E or B?"
SC: “A BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee eeee-”
You know, the last time I heard something make a noise like that it was just before it resumed picking lice off its scrotum on the Discovery Channel. Which I assume is the past time you will return too after this call.
.....
From the 2 guys sitting in front of me on the Skytrain:
Guy 1: “It was a great first date. You know one of those ones where you don’t want to wash the outfit you were wearing ever again so your cloths end up dirty.”
Guy 2: “What the Hell? Dude, that’s sick.”
I concur. That’s the kind of relationship that leads to a restraining order.
Argh...
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Hi, can I get a cab?”
Me: “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”
SC: “I need a cab at-“
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Just on the corner.”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…..is this a cab?”
I'm trying to hate you to death. Let me know if you feel anything.
Wow.
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Yeah, what’s your location?”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
SC: “Where are you right now?!”
Me: “This is the <company>. Are you sure you have the right number?”
SC: “<company>?!”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!”
Er….wow. What did I do to illicit that kind of response? Did the <company> molest you as a child or something? If so I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drudge up any unpleasant memories. I know the <company> can be a bit touchy feely at times, especially when it drinks, but I’m sure deep down it really loves you and didn’t really want to hurt you. Maybe you should forgive it.
Hot Tips For...er....America?
SC: “Yeah, I want to know why Nicholas Cage making a movie about a tsunami?!”
Me: “…wouldn’t it be better to ask the movie studio itself?”
SC: “…er…”
Me: “Movies have nothing to do with the <company>.”
SC: “…oh…ok. Bye.”
Ah, you again. You know I don’t think this whole late night nut job thing is working out for you. Logic and reason seem to work far too well on you. I really don’t think you’re cut out for this line of work. I know it was probably a childhood dream and you’re following in your father’s footsteps. But you shouldn’t feel pressured to take up the family business. Besides I’m sure he’ll be paroled in no time and can redone his mantle.
......
One of their clients called in to cancel his home service worker ( Whom he told me to never send to his house again ) and specified he would like a “white atheist male” to replace her instead as he was tired of them sending him Christians. "Brown" Christians. Brown Christian women. Because he wanted to talk about atheism with them. White atheism. White. Male. Atheist. None of these "stupid brown women".
I suddenly felt much less inclined to assist him. But I did dutifully pass his on his message. Word for word. To his home service worker's boss. I'm sure she'll be able to arrange something more fitting for him.
The Vending Machine of Sadness
Someone tell the guy that restocks our vending machine ( If you see him anyway, he’s like a rare white elk. ) that we need less TGI Friday’s Bacon & Cheddar Urinal Cake Shavings and more of those tiny little chocolate chip cookies of happiness.
Seriously though, the Bacon & Cheddar potato skins. What’s in that bag? All the other, normal chips in the vending machine have a shelf life of about 45 days. The TGI Friday’s ones expire Feb 10, 2009 and they’ve already been in there for two months because no one is fool enough to try and eat them. You have to ask yourself, what’s in that bag? What did they add to make them last like 8 times as long as normal chips?
I’d buy all the Bacon & Cheddar things and take them out back to the parking lot to be burned if I was reasonable sure such mundane methods could destroy them. However, I’m pretty sure on the back there’s a little note saying they should be stored in a cool, dry place between 10-35 degrees and never, under any circumstances, be exposed to the fires of Mount Doom lest they be unmade.
867
I’m slowly beginning to decipher the language of the north. It’s been a long, arduous journey, observing them in their natural habitat. But I think I’m slowly beginning to understand their ways. Well, I’ll never understand their fashion sense or what it is in the water that compels them to try and order pants using a grade 3 reading level, but! I am beginning to crack the code as far as numbers are concerned. For example:
“8-5-1….uh….ten….a dash thingy….91”
Is actually: 8510-91.
See, anytime 1 and 0 are combined its automatically a 10 even if saying so actually adds an additional number in the mind of anyone with a basic grasp of how numbers actually work. Yet strangely this doesn’t occur for any other number combination. Only ten. I’ve never heard “851 eleven dash thingy 91”. It’s only ten that triggers this peculiar phenomena.
Fascinating. I’ve learned something new, yet somehow feel less intelligent.
and thus ends a somewhat slow week, actually.
Overreact much?
I fail to believe you’re going to “have a heart attack” over the loss of $3 in the vending machine. This is also not some nefarious, cunning “rip off scheme” to prey on the infirmed at the hospital. In my world life and death do not hang in the balance over a $3 pizza pretzel. Unfortunately, you do not live in my world. You live in your world where it’s perfectly acceptable to throw a tantrum like a two year old over a pizza pretzel at 3am in the middle of a hospital no less. It sounds like a sad, sad little world with few visitors and declining property values.
Just for bonus points you also mentioned that every nurse on the floor warned you NOT to use that machine because something was wrong with it and it was eating change. But did that stop you? No, of course not. Her Majesty needs her pizza pretzel and she needs it now otherwise who knows what sort of cardiac failure might occur. Why, the saturated fats and salt are all that’s keeping her alive.
Someone get Bessie a cowlick, stat.
No, don't tell me.
SC: “My toilet won’t flush.”
Me: “Ok-“
SC: “and the seat broke off.”
Ok, I was following you up to that point. I understand the toilet’s inability to flush as it has perhaps clogged or otherwise backed up. But how in the Hell did you break the seat in the process? Wait…no, don’t tell me. I probably don’t want to know.
Where In The World Is-
SC: “You have to be a resident of BC to enter, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “I’m not, but my daughter is. Can I buy her a ticket?”
Me: “Sure, if you have her address.”
SC: “I don’t have her address…..I have her cell phone number?”
Me: “…..”
SC: “She works at the Banana Republic.”
Me: “….”
….do you think I know her or are you expecting me to be able to track her down based on your series of cryptic clues? Are you hoping a few more like maybe her shoe size and the amount of Achievement’s she’s racked up on X-Box Live and I’ll go “Oh, her! Ok.”? Do I sound like I shop at the Banana Republic? I don’t even know what the Banana Republic is. I assume it’s a republic that has somehow been formed around fruit and now offers franchising opportunities. There also seems to be some potential for monkeys or at the very least monkey like shenanigans, which, I will concede is always a positive. I do so enjoy shenanigans. Even if they are simian inspired.
Wait, hold on a sec……..I’ve been informed it is a clothing store by a coworker in a voice that suggests I am an idiot.
Damn, well, I guess that puts me one step closer to your Carmen Santiago. All I have to do now is find every Banana Republic in the city and steal cell phones from female employees until I find a match. Then when she's having me arrested I can yell "BUT YOUR MOTHER SENT ME!" as they shove me into the back of the squad car.
A Small Note Of Caution Should You Visit Canada
Attention tourists. You are standing between me, a Canadian, and my genetically disposed destination, Tim Horton’s. I don’t believe you realize the amount of sheer danger you are presently in. Move. Faster. My blood sings for maple sugar and you dare stand in its path?
I don't think you've thought all the way through your cunning plan.
12:29am:
Caller calls to report his power is out and have the on call electrician paged.
12:31am:
Calls back to complain he hasn’t had a call back yet. Also complains his cell phone battery is very low so he can’t keep calling like this.
12:32am:
Caller fails to realize he’s an idiot by continuing to use up his cell phone and tying up his own line so the on call cannot get through. The tenets of professionalism and company policy prevent me from pointing this out. Caller will remain in the dark both literally and figuratively.
Preparation
SC: “What’s the mailing address?”
Me: “It’s 7-“
SC: “Wait, let me get a pen & paper.”
Yes, that would be a good idea. An idea you should have had 30 seconds ago before you even touched the phone. Sadly, it did not, and I am forced to bear witness to your moment of stupidity. A moment which I myself will ever cherish even if it’s just another in a long string of forgettable daily failures for you.
What we had together was special, dammit! <sob>
867
Sure, every now and then you might be having a bad day, or be distracted or otherwise have a brain fart and start spelling your name the wrong way. But twice in a row? Then the only reason you got it right the third time was because someone in the background helped out? I don’t think you’re qualified to be using the phone. I’m not even sure you’re qualified to dress yourself yet. Perhaps you should just put the phone down, back away slowly, and go find an activity more appropriate to your level. Something that involves say, crayons and glitter, for example.
867
Me: “and your postal code please?”
SC: “It’s XX<static>XX”
Me: “I’m sorry, was that X-X-B?”
SC: “XX<Performance of oral sex on reciever>X””
Me: “E or B?"
SC: “A BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee eeee-”
You know, the last time I heard something make a noise like that it was just before it resumed picking lice off its scrotum on the Discovery Channel. Which I assume is the past time you will return too after this call.
.....
From the 2 guys sitting in front of me on the Skytrain:
Guy 1: “It was a great first date. You know one of those ones where you don’t want to wash the outfit you were wearing ever again so your cloths end up dirty.”
Guy 2: “What the Hell? Dude, that’s sick.”
I concur. That’s the kind of relationship that leads to a restraining order.
Argh...
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Hi, can I get a cab?”
Me: “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”
SC: “I need a cab at-“
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Just on the corner.”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…..is this a cab?”
I'm trying to hate you to death. Let me know if you feel anything.
Wow.
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Yeah, what’s your location?”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
SC: “Where are you right now?!”
Me: “This is the <company>. Are you sure you have the right number?”
SC: “<company>?!”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH!”
Er….wow. What did I do to illicit that kind of response? Did the <company> molest you as a child or something? If so I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drudge up any unpleasant memories. I know the <company> can be a bit touchy feely at times, especially when it drinks, but I’m sure deep down it really loves you and didn’t really want to hurt you. Maybe you should forgive it.
Hot Tips For...er....America?
SC: “Yeah, I want to know why Nicholas Cage making a movie about a tsunami?!”
Me: “…wouldn’t it be better to ask the movie studio itself?”
SC: “…er…”
Me: “Movies have nothing to do with the <company>.”
SC: “…oh…ok. Bye.”
Ah, you again. You know I don’t think this whole late night nut job thing is working out for you. Logic and reason seem to work far too well on you. I really don’t think you’re cut out for this line of work. I know it was probably a childhood dream and you’re following in your father’s footsteps. But you shouldn’t feel pressured to take up the family business. Besides I’m sure he’ll be paroled in no time and can redone his mantle.
......
One of their clients called in to cancel his home service worker ( Whom he told me to never send to his house again ) and specified he would like a “white atheist male” to replace her instead as he was tired of them sending him Christians. "Brown" Christians. Brown Christian women. Because he wanted to talk about atheism with them. White atheism. White. Male. Atheist. None of these "stupid brown women".
I suddenly felt much less inclined to assist him. But I did dutifully pass his on his message. Word for word. To his home service worker's boss. I'm sure she'll be able to arrange something more fitting for him.
The Vending Machine of Sadness
Someone tell the guy that restocks our vending machine ( If you see him anyway, he’s like a rare white elk. ) that we need less TGI Friday’s Bacon & Cheddar Urinal Cake Shavings and more of those tiny little chocolate chip cookies of happiness.
Seriously though, the Bacon & Cheddar potato skins. What’s in that bag? All the other, normal chips in the vending machine have a shelf life of about 45 days. The TGI Friday’s ones expire Feb 10, 2009 and they’ve already been in there for two months because no one is fool enough to try and eat them. You have to ask yourself, what’s in that bag? What did they add to make them last like 8 times as long as normal chips?
I’d buy all the Bacon & Cheddar things and take them out back to the parking lot to be burned if I was reasonable sure such mundane methods could destroy them. However, I’m pretty sure on the back there’s a little note saying they should be stored in a cool, dry place between 10-35 degrees and never, under any circumstances, be exposed to the fires of Mount Doom lest they be unmade.
867
I’m slowly beginning to decipher the language of the north. It’s been a long, arduous journey, observing them in their natural habitat. But I think I’m slowly beginning to understand their ways. Well, I’ll never understand their fashion sense or what it is in the water that compels them to try and order pants using a grade 3 reading level, but! I am beginning to crack the code as far as numbers are concerned. For example:
“8-5-1….uh….ten….a dash thingy….91”
Is actually: 8510-91.
See, anytime 1 and 0 are combined its automatically a 10 even if saying so actually adds an additional number in the mind of anyone with a basic grasp of how numbers actually work. Yet strangely this doesn’t occur for any other number combination. Only ten. I’ve never heard “851 eleven dash thingy 91”. It’s only ten that triggers this peculiar phenomena.
Fascinating. I’ve learned something new, yet somehow feel less intelligent.
and thus ends a somewhat slow week, actually.
I know, I'm a brat.
Why isn't there a book...?
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