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Wherein I derive amusement from sorrow
Behold my tales of woe...
Serenade
As I walked into the Skytrain station this evening I heard, then bore witness to a odd, weaselly little skaterb0i ratman desperately trying to serenade nearby females with his crooning mating call. The problem is his choice of song was, and I quote: "You could tell she was a whore" "I knew she liked it!" with the refrain "The sweet taste of her vagina~. Oh yeah, the sweet taste of her vagina~".
Judging by the reactions of the girls near him, the only way this man has ever tasted vagina is if he was born with his mouth open.
Hot Tips for America
Note to Americans: If you’re coming up to Canada and considering lying about your age to pick up hawt young Canadian guys, it’s probably not a wise idea to print out a new birth date to make you younger then gluing it over your passport DOB. Oddly enough, the border guards will notice and they will have a bit of a problem with that. They will also be bemused by your stupidity and do very little to hide it.
Calling me to whine for help won't get you very far either. Because I'm bemused by your stupidity as well and have very little inclination of helping you out of the pit you've dug yourself. The only way this could get any better is if I heard the snap of a latex glove in the background.
The Crossroad
SC: “Yeah, is Bob there?”
Me: “Did you need to speak with him again?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “Alright, I can page him again for you.”
SC: “Uh…”
Me: “Did you need me to page him again?”
SC: “um…….uh……”
Come on man, it’s a simple yes or no question. Unlike everything else in your life you actually have a 50/50 shot at this. This is your one chance to actually succeed at something! Don’t throw it away! You could taste a sweet sweet sip of nectar of accomplishment for one precious moment in your dark, barren lifetime! CHOOSE WISELY.
867...?
Me: “Ok, and what’s the product ID number please?”
SC: “Like, you mean, like, the ID number?”
Like, oh my gawd, totally, yes.
Give it, you craven harpy hatchling. Then return to the nest of glitter eyeshadow, Bratz Dolls and Hannah Montana DVD cases from whence you came and resume screeching weak minded idioms at passing boys in the hopes of finding a mate that’s like, totally cool that you can totally gush about on your MySpace to your friends and like OMIGAWD he is soooooo hawt.
867
Me: “and your name please?”
SC: “Uh…..umm…..”
This is not a question that should require a 10 second pause before you can fully decipher the answer. This is not a trick question. This is not a riddle. This is not a test. The fate of the world does not rest upon your answer. This is merely your name. Do not be alarmed.
Deep breaths, shitwits, deep breaths.
Is That You God?
Me: “Good morning, <company>.”
SC: “Yeah, this is Joseph. Mary wants to talk to you.”
Me: “..ok?”
Wait, you mean like….biblically? Damn, should I be getting some Myrrh or something?
No, no I'm not.
SC: “I can’t hear you, are you even speaking into the phone?!”
No, I actually have my headset stuffed down my shirt. You’re engaged in a lively conversation with my left armpit and I’m merely serving as a translator. It is my belief and fervent hope that I can use my linguistic skills to bridge the gap between both of your people’s and finally negotiate peace between you. Thus bringing this bloody conflict to an end.
How about No
SC: “Alright, Let’s do it!”
…I think you’re misunderstanding the purpose of booking a hotel room here. I don’t actually come with the room nor can I provide you with any additional...er....services. You’re going to have to find some other way to ward of loneliness this evening. However, you are in Las Vegas so I don’t imagine you’ll have much trouble. Although there would be an additional charge ontop of the room rate. Just FYI.
..what?
SC: “Ok, so call this number for the hotel shuttle?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Can I have the hotel address too?”
Me: “..sure.”
SC: “Just in case they ask.”
…..just in case the hotel shuttle driver asks you how to get back to his own hotel? Of course. I mean, it’s not like it’s his job to drive to and from the airport all night or anything. They probably just pulled in some random hobo off the street, gave him the keys and promised him a taco if he could make it to the airport and back without killing anyone. Now it’s up to you to guide him to Mexi-melt salvation.
Try Harder.
SC: “Yeah, can I get a cab?”
Me: “I’m sorry, you’re calling the wrong number.”
SC: “It’s not the wrong number.”
Me: “…yes it is.”
You’re going to have to come with a more compelling argument then “Na-uh!” if you’re trying to convince me to make a sudden, drastic change of career to cater to your sorry ass.
Thanks.
SC “So what time should I call to speak with a real person, not an operator?”
Ah, thanks. I’d almost made it 24 hours without being demeaned as a human being. Can’t have that now can we.
Wha?
SC: “The fridge is like off or something. I think its broken. I’m a woman, so I don’t know about these things.”
That’s…er…hmm. Wow. There’s so many things wrong with that statement but it’s kind of hard to figure out a way to point them out. Are you actually allowed to be sexist towards your own gender? Don’t they revoke your membership card or something if you do that? At the very least you must lose TV privileges for a while.
Me Niether, Really.
SC: “I’m not that good with English or American so you’ll have to speak slower.”
Don’t worry, I’m not that good with it either to be honest. They keep taking the U’s out of everything on me.
Kindred Spirits
OC: “What did he say his problem was?”
Me: “His cooler is down.”
OC: “Oh, well, sucks to be him.”
Finally, a client just as bitter and jaded as I am about our callers. Come, my brother! Let us point at misfortune and laugh.
Oh Come On...
Problem:
Caller had one computer down on site and no idea what was wrong with it. Caller has tried everything to get it up and running to no avail. Caller is desperate because its his main point of sale computer and he's losing customers.
Solution:
Tech was dispatched. Tech assessed situation. Tech called back to report that the caller had NOT TURNED THE COMPUTER ON. Yes, that's right. His whole store was down, he lost hundreds of dollars worth of business and just spend hundreds of dollars calling in a tech because he didn't turn the computer ON.
A single press of a button was all that stood between him and salvation.
867
Me: “Ok, and what size would you like?”
SC: “I don’t know. One sec. Let me ask my son. He’s the one ordering.”
No, you’re the one ordering. If he’s the one that wants it then put his stupid ass on the phone and let me speak directly with his majesty so that I’m not playing phone relay with the two of you for the rest of the call.
SC: “He says he prefers 4XL.”
Oh does he now? His majesty has spoken! Seriously, give Chunt the Pit Stain King the phone please. I want to hear this straight from the walrus's mouth so to speak. I refuse to converse with mere servants such as yourself. I demand ROYALTY~!
I Cracked a Little.
Me: “The office opens at 8am pacific”
SC: “What does that mean?!”
Me: “…that the office opens at 8am pacific?”
SC: “Oh.”
I’m not sure I was 100% successful in removing the “What are you? An idiot?” tone from my voice. But in my defense he’s an idiot and unlikely to notice.
867
Me: “Good morning, <company>.”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “Good morning, <company>.”
SC: “Oh, I thought you were a telemarketer.”
Me: “……”
SC: “Anyway, I’d like to place an order.”
Wait wait, back up sec, chimpy. You thought I was a telemarketer? You called *me*, and thought *I* was a telemarketer? I don’t think that word means what you think it means. Or do you not even remembering dialing the phone? Did you just regain consciousness now and realized you were on the phone? Is the subconscious need for pants so great that you’re actually sleep ordering?
Me: “Ok, and can I have your phone number please?”
SC: “It’s either xxxx or xxxx.”
Me: “….pardon?”
SC: “xxxx or xxxx”
Me: “I need the full number.”
SC: “xxxx or xxxx”
Me: “I need your phone number, please.”
SC: “That’s what I’m telling you!!~#eleventysquid!”
Me: “I need the entire number, please.”
SC: “Oh, ok. It’s xxx-xxx-xxxx or xxx-xxx-xxxx.”
Ok, not only do you somehow expect me to divine your entire phone number from 4 digits but you actually offered me two different options of 4 digits to choose from. As if that somehow helps. Am I suppose to somehow cross reference both sets of numbers against every town in Canada and narrow it down to the towns that only have numbers ending in those two options? Then I can cross reference the results against population and find the one town that has a population of less than 500 ( But only two family names ) and is so far north even the polar bears don’t have enough fur on their nuts to endure living there?
Actually, that would probably work.
Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
SC: “xxx-xx”
Me: “….xxx-xx?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “That’s one number short.”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “What are the first four numbers?”
SC: “xxx-xx.”
Me: “That’s a number short. There should be four numbers before the dash. Are you sure its xxx-xx?”
SC: “Yeah, it says right here on the page! Xxx-xx! I’m looking right at it.”
Me: “That’s still a number short.”
SC: “It’s right here in front of me.”
Me: “xxx-xx?”
SC: “yeah.”
Me: “It should be four numbers before the dash, like xxxx-xx”
SC: “Oh, yeah, xxxx-xx.”
You know, I have a list that I’m saving for after I retire. It’s a list of people whom I intend to meticulously hunt down, one by one, by whatever means possible, and stab in the left ass cheek with one of those little yellow pokey things you stick in the end of corn on the cob so you can hold it, then twist it and yell “TUT TUT TALLYHO”. Then I will stab them in the right ass cheek and run off into the night squealing "FUCK YA! DOUBLE WORD SCORE!". Because I assume by the time I retire all of that will make perfect sense to me.
You have just made this list.
Me: “Ok, anything else?”
SC: “Yeah, xxxx-xx”
Me: “Hmm, I don’t have that in my catalogue here.”
SC: “It’s in the summer catalogue. I have it right in front of me. On page 52. Right in the middle.”
Me: “Summer 2008?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “Alright, one moment let me grab the summer catalogues and check…”
SC: “Ok.”
Me: “On page 52?”
SC: “Yeah, er, wait no, page 28.”
Me: “28? I don’t see xxxx-xx on page 28.”
SC: “Its right in the middle!”
Me: “Right in the middle is xxxx-xx.”
SC: “I’m looking right at it in your catalogue.”
Me: “and you’re looking in Summer 2008?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “xxxx-69?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “…wait, do you mean xxxx-96?”
SC: “Oh, yeah.”
Your ass. Corn on the cob. Stab. Twist. TALLYHO.
867
Me: “Ok, anything else?”
SC: “Um. I haven’t finished looking through the catalogue…I’ll probably get a hoodie. Lemme look.”
Me: “Alright.”
This is something you should have done before you called. I know the excitement of ordering a single pair of pants coursing through your veins is neigh overwhelming, but you have to resist the urge to call until you’ve figured out everything you want. Otherwise, after ordering the pants, you’ll feel suddenly empty and confused with no where to go. Desperately pawing at the catalogue to try and once again find that sense of wonder and awe.
SC: “Still looking….”
Me: “……”
SC: “…still looking….um….”
Me: “…..”
SC: "uhh....still looking...."
No offense, but my shift ends in a mere 3 hours. You might want remember your daily feel good affirmation off the back of your Fruit Loops box and not be afraid to step up and make decisions.
SC: “Ok, xxxx-xx”
Me: “Alright, I only have that in black, actually.”
SC: “What about grey?”
Me: “I only have it black.”
SC: “Oh, I like a light colour.”
That’s fascinating. I wonder how many brain cells in my head were just wasted remembering that little gold nugget of information. I’ll keep that in mind for my Christmas shopping. Huffs With Paint from FUCK ITS COLD, Nunavut prefers light colours and has a fondness for pants. Duly noted.
We Laugh.
Me: “She says her unit is overrun with mice.”
OC: “…overrun?”
Me: “Overrun.”
OC: “Hah, like they’re just running rampant?”
Me: “Apparently.”
OC: “Is she standing on a table?”
Me: “Seems that way.”
OC: “Hahahaa”
Yes, that’s right. You’re standing on a table, on the “verge of a nervous breakdown” because your unit is “overrun with mice” and what do me and the maintenance guy do? Laugh at your misfortune. Because, well, it is kind of funny and we are cold, cold hearted men.
annnd rest...
Serenade
As I walked into the Skytrain station this evening I heard, then bore witness to a odd, weaselly little skaterb0i ratman desperately trying to serenade nearby females with his crooning mating call. The problem is his choice of song was, and I quote: "You could tell she was a whore" "I knew she liked it!" with the refrain "The sweet taste of her vagina~. Oh yeah, the sweet taste of her vagina~".
Judging by the reactions of the girls near him, the only way this man has ever tasted vagina is if he was born with his mouth open.
Hot Tips for America
Note to Americans: If you’re coming up to Canada and considering lying about your age to pick up hawt young Canadian guys, it’s probably not a wise idea to print out a new birth date to make you younger then gluing it over your passport DOB. Oddly enough, the border guards will notice and they will have a bit of a problem with that. They will also be bemused by your stupidity and do very little to hide it.
Calling me to whine for help won't get you very far either. Because I'm bemused by your stupidity as well and have very little inclination of helping you out of the pit you've dug yourself. The only way this could get any better is if I heard the snap of a latex glove in the background.
The Crossroad
SC: “Yeah, is Bob there?”
Me: “Did you need to speak with him again?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “Alright, I can page him again for you.”
SC: “Uh…”
Me: “Did you need me to page him again?”
SC: “um…….uh……”
Come on man, it’s a simple yes or no question. Unlike everything else in your life you actually have a 50/50 shot at this. This is your one chance to actually succeed at something! Don’t throw it away! You could taste a sweet sweet sip of nectar of accomplishment for one precious moment in your dark, barren lifetime! CHOOSE WISELY.
867...?
Me: “Ok, and what’s the product ID number please?”
SC: “Like, you mean, like, the ID number?”
Like, oh my gawd, totally, yes.
Give it, you craven harpy hatchling. Then return to the nest of glitter eyeshadow, Bratz Dolls and Hannah Montana DVD cases from whence you came and resume screeching weak minded idioms at passing boys in the hopes of finding a mate that’s like, totally cool that you can totally gush about on your MySpace to your friends and like OMIGAWD he is soooooo hawt.
867
Me: “and your name please?”
SC: “Uh…..umm…..”
This is not a question that should require a 10 second pause before you can fully decipher the answer. This is not a trick question. This is not a riddle. This is not a test. The fate of the world does not rest upon your answer. This is merely your name. Do not be alarmed.
Deep breaths, shitwits, deep breaths.
Is That You God?
Me: “Good morning, <company>.”
SC: “Yeah, this is Joseph. Mary wants to talk to you.”
Me: “..ok?”
Wait, you mean like….biblically? Damn, should I be getting some Myrrh or something?
No, no I'm not.
SC: “I can’t hear you, are you even speaking into the phone?!”
No, I actually have my headset stuffed down my shirt. You’re engaged in a lively conversation with my left armpit and I’m merely serving as a translator. It is my belief and fervent hope that I can use my linguistic skills to bridge the gap between both of your people’s and finally negotiate peace between you. Thus bringing this bloody conflict to an end.
How about No
SC: “Alright, Let’s do it!”
…I think you’re misunderstanding the purpose of booking a hotel room here. I don’t actually come with the room nor can I provide you with any additional...er....services. You’re going to have to find some other way to ward of loneliness this evening. However, you are in Las Vegas so I don’t imagine you’ll have much trouble. Although there would be an additional charge ontop of the room rate. Just FYI.
..what?
SC: “Ok, so call this number for the hotel shuttle?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Can I have the hotel address too?”
Me: “..sure.”
SC: “Just in case they ask.”
…..just in case the hotel shuttle driver asks you how to get back to his own hotel? Of course. I mean, it’s not like it’s his job to drive to and from the airport all night or anything. They probably just pulled in some random hobo off the street, gave him the keys and promised him a taco if he could make it to the airport and back without killing anyone. Now it’s up to you to guide him to Mexi-melt salvation.
Try Harder.
SC: “Yeah, can I get a cab?”
Me: “I’m sorry, you’re calling the wrong number.”
SC: “It’s not the wrong number.”
Me: “…yes it is.”
You’re going to have to come with a more compelling argument then “Na-uh!” if you’re trying to convince me to make a sudden, drastic change of career to cater to your sorry ass.
Thanks.
SC “So what time should I call to speak with a real person, not an operator?”
Ah, thanks. I’d almost made it 24 hours without being demeaned as a human being. Can’t have that now can we.
Wha?
SC: “The fridge is like off or something. I think its broken. I’m a woman, so I don’t know about these things.”
That’s…er…hmm. Wow. There’s so many things wrong with that statement but it’s kind of hard to figure out a way to point them out. Are you actually allowed to be sexist towards your own gender? Don’t they revoke your membership card or something if you do that? At the very least you must lose TV privileges for a while.
Me Niether, Really.
SC: “I’m not that good with English or American so you’ll have to speak slower.”
Don’t worry, I’m not that good with it either to be honest. They keep taking the U’s out of everything on me.
Kindred Spirits
OC: “What did he say his problem was?”
Me: “His cooler is down.”
OC: “Oh, well, sucks to be him.”
Finally, a client just as bitter and jaded as I am about our callers. Come, my brother! Let us point at misfortune and laugh.
Oh Come On...
Problem:
Caller had one computer down on site and no idea what was wrong with it. Caller has tried everything to get it up and running to no avail. Caller is desperate because its his main point of sale computer and he's losing customers.
Solution:
Tech was dispatched. Tech assessed situation. Tech called back to report that the caller had NOT TURNED THE COMPUTER ON. Yes, that's right. His whole store was down, he lost hundreds of dollars worth of business and just spend hundreds of dollars calling in a tech because he didn't turn the computer ON.
A single press of a button was all that stood between him and salvation.
867
Me: “Ok, and what size would you like?”
SC: “I don’t know. One sec. Let me ask my son. He’s the one ordering.”
No, you’re the one ordering. If he’s the one that wants it then put his stupid ass on the phone and let me speak directly with his majesty so that I’m not playing phone relay with the two of you for the rest of the call.
SC: “He says he prefers 4XL.”
Oh does he now? His majesty has spoken! Seriously, give Chunt the Pit Stain King the phone please. I want to hear this straight from the walrus's mouth so to speak. I refuse to converse with mere servants such as yourself. I demand ROYALTY~!
I Cracked a Little.
Me: “The office opens at 8am pacific”
SC: “What does that mean?!”
Me: “…that the office opens at 8am pacific?”
SC: “Oh.”
I’m not sure I was 100% successful in removing the “What are you? An idiot?” tone from my voice. But in my defense he’s an idiot and unlikely to notice.
867
Me: “Good morning, <company>.”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “Good morning, <company>.”
SC: “Oh, I thought you were a telemarketer.”
Me: “……”
SC: “Anyway, I’d like to place an order.”
Wait wait, back up sec, chimpy. You thought I was a telemarketer? You called *me*, and thought *I* was a telemarketer? I don’t think that word means what you think it means. Or do you not even remembering dialing the phone? Did you just regain consciousness now and realized you were on the phone? Is the subconscious need for pants so great that you’re actually sleep ordering?
Me: “Ok, and can I have your phone number please?”
SC: “It’s either xxxx or xxxx.”
Me: “….pardon?”
SC: “xxxx or xxxx”
Me: “I need the full number.”
SC: “xxxx or xxxx”
Me: “I need your phone number, please.”
SC: “That’s what I’m telling you!!~#eleventysquid!”
Me: “I need the entire number, please.”
SC: “Oh, ok. It’s xxx-xxx-xxxx or xxx-xxx-xxxx.”
Ok, not only do you somehow expect me to divine your entire phone number from 4 digits but you actually offered me two different options of 4 digits to choose from. As if that somehow helps. Am I suppose to somehow cross reference both sets of numbers against every town in Canada and narrow it down to the towns that only have numbers ending in those two options? Then I can cross reference the results against population and find the one town that has a population of less than 500 ( But only two family names ) and is so far north even the polar bears don’t have enough fur on their nuts to endure living there?
Actually, that would probably work.
Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
SC: “xxx-xx”
Me: “….xxx-xx?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “That’s one number short.”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “What are the first four numbers?”
SC: “xxx-xx.”
Me: “That’s a number short. There should be four numbers before the dash. Are you sure its xxx-xx?”
SC: “Yeah, it says right here on the page! Xxx-xx! I’m looking right at it.”
Me: “That’s still a number short.”
SC: “It’s right here in front of me.”
Me: “xxx-xx?”
SC: “yeah.”
Me: “It should be four numbers before the dash, like xxxx-xx”
SC: “Oh, yeah, xxxx-xx.”
You know, I have a list that I’m saving for after I retire. It’s a list of people whom I intend to meticulously hunt down, one by one, by whatever means possible, and stab in the left ass cheek with one of those little yellow pokey things you stick in the end of corn on the cob so you can hold it, then twist it and yell “TUT TUT TALLYHO”. Then I will stab them in the right ass cheek and run off into the night squealing "FUCK YA! DOUBLE WORD SCORE!". Because I assume by the time I retire all of that will make perfect sense to me.
You have just made this list.
Me: “Ok, anything else?”
SC: “Yeah, xxxx-xx”
Me: “Hmm, I don’t have that in my catalogue here.”
SC: “It’s in the summer catalogue. I have it right in front of me. On page 52. Right in the middle.”
Me: “Summer 2008?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “Alright, one moment let me grab the summer catalogues and check…”
SC: “Ok.”
Me: “On page 52?”
SC: “Yeah, er, wait no, page 28.”
Me: “28? I don’t see xxxx-xx on page 28.”
SC: “Its right in the middle!”
Me: “Right in the middle is xxxx-xx.”
SC: “I’m looking right at it in your catalogue.”
Me: “and you’re looking in Summer 2008?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “xxxx-69?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “…wait, do you mean xxxx-96?”
SC: “Oh, yeah.”
Your ass. Corn on the cob. Stab. Twist. TALLYHO.
867
Me: “Ok, anything else?”
SC: “Um. I haven’t finished looking through the catalogue…I’ll probably get a hoodie. Lemme look.”
Me: “Alright.”
This is something you should have done before you called. I know the excitement of ordering a single pair of pants coursing through your veins is neigh overwhelming, but you have to resist the urge to call until you’ve figured out everything you want. Otherwise, after ordering the pants, you’ll feel suddenly empty and confused with no where to go. Desperately pawing at the catalogue to try and once again find that sense of wonder and awe.
SC: “Still looking….”
Me: “……”
SC: “…still looking….um….”
Me: “…..”
SC: "uhh....still looking...."
No offense, but my shift ends in a mere 3 hours. You might want remember your daily feel good affirmation off the back of your Fruit Loops box and not be afraid to step up and make decisions.
SC: “Ok, xxxx-xx”
Me: “Alright, I only have that in black, actually.”
SC: “What about grey?”
Me: “I only have it black.”
SC: “Oh, I like a light colour.”
That’s fascinating. I wonder how many brain cells in my head were just wasted remembering that little gold nugget of information. I’ll keep that in mind for my Christmas shopping. Huffs With Paint from FUCK ITS COLD, Nunavut prefers light colours and has a fondness for pants. Duly noted.
We Laugh.
Me: “She says her unit is overrun with mice.”
OC: “…overrun?”
Me: “Overrun.”
OC: “Hah, like they’re just running rampant?”
Me: “Apparently.”
OC: “Is she standing on a table?”
Me: “Seems that way.”
OC: “Hahahaa”
Yes, that’s right. You’re standing on a table, on the “verge of a nervous breakdown” because your unit is “overrun with mice” and what do me and the maintenance guy do? Laugh at your misfortune. Because, well, it is kind of funny and we are cold, cold hearted men.
annnd rest...
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