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Black Mana
Dear god....so glad I'm off today. Now that the city's buried under snow.
867
SC: “The catalog says it only comes in 2XL. Can I get it in 3XL?”
Ah, I see the word “only” has failed you too. Don’t worry, I know your pain and sympathize. Worry not, brother, I am here for you! Come, we shall form a support group and perhaps print a monthly newsletter or at least print up a bunch of stationary and some buttons. We have a bright future of bake sales and telethons ahead of us.
867
Me: "That comes to $xxx and should arrive in about two weeks."
SC: “So…uh, any discounts today?”
No, no there isn’t. We do not keep a list of special bonus discounts specifically for those that think to ask for it. Nor do we function on any sort of barter system with which you can use to reduce the listed prices through the application of promises of bonus livestock should I accept your terms. Though I put little value in…pink camo…I’m still not about to trade it for….er…..what livestock does one keep in the frozen north anyhow? Seal? Walrus? Can you milk walrus?
Because walrus ice cream would be sort of awesome. Disturbing. But awesome.
A Cunning Plan
Caller was calling to inquire about a specific property for sale. Not because the property was appealing, affordable or in a desirably area, but rather because the caller was searching for a good place to "lay low from the police for a while" and this seemed like a good location. He did not specify why he had to hide from law enforcement or if he had in fact done anything to merit their attention or only thought he did. But judging by the time of the call and apparent intellect of the caller I would hazard to say farm animals and/or latex was involved.
Comprehension
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Is this Blah Blah Taxi?”
Me: “No, sorry. You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh. This isn’t Blah Blah Taxi?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Oh. Is this any taxi company?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Oh. This is someone completely different?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Oh.”
Why is it the more simplistic the concept the more difficult it is to convey to you? I hope you’re experiencing some sort of trade off for the grim level of basic comprehension you’re displaying. Like at the very least you can grasp complex astrophysics in exchange for the fact it takes you 15 minutes grasp the concept of “supersizing” at McDonald’s even after the counter girl draws you a diagram on a placemat in Nugget Yellow crayon from your Happy Meal.
Jailbird
( Like I'm getting fire for you, jackass. )
Me: “Alright, I can’t get a hold of <lawyer>, but I'll have him call there as soon as I do.”
Cop: “Ok, did you want to talk to the guy in custody?”
What? The guy in jail? No, not really. You already told me who he is, why he’s being held and how to contact you. That covers all my bases. I don’t want to actually interact with that farktard and I know he’s going to be an farktard. Because DUI is the badge of farktards. They go for it right after they earn their "Incident Exposure" badge.
SC: “Uh, hi.”
Dammit. Why? There is nothing I could possible glean from this guy, why do you make me speak with him?
Me: Hi, this is the afterhours service for <law office>, was there any further message you’d like me to pass along to your lawyer?”
SC: “Uh, any further message?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “I want to talk to him!”
Me: “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like he’s up yet so I can’t get a hold of him right now. I can pass a message on as soon as I get a hold of him.”
SC: “Well what am I suppose to do then?”
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t give you legal advice. I’m not a lawyer myself. I’m only an operator.”
SC: “So do I just sit here and let them do whatever?”
Me: “I cannot give you legal advice. All I can do is pass along your message as soon as possible.”
SC: “So do I just stay in jail all night?”
Me: “I am not permitted to give you legal advice. All you can do is wait for them to call back there.”
SC: “So just let them do whatever to me?”
Me: “I cannot give you legal advice.”
SC: “So what about the breath thing, do I give them a sample or not?”
Me: “I cannot. Give you. Any legal advice whatsoever. I’m not permitted to do so..”
SC: “Well what do I do then?”
Me: “You’ll have to wait till your lawyer is available.”
SC: “So what do I do?”
Me: “I can’t. Give. You. Any. Legal. Advice. You’ll have to wait for your lawyer.”
SC: “What do I do then?!”
Me: “Ok, I can’t give you ANY legal advice WHATSOEVER and I have to get off the line now. I have other calls.”
SC: “Noooo, don’t get off the line! What do I do?!!”
Damn you. Damn you all. I told you I didn’t want to talk to the ass turkey and that there was no possible additional information that that drunken rectal marmot could provide that would be of any interest or relevance to me. But nooo, you had to patch me over to him anyway and you didn’t even tell him anything that I told you so I had to explain everything to him again. Probably so you yourself could avoid having to do so, Constable Jerktrout.
Skytrain Divers
Ah, Skytrain divers. Always impromptu daily entertainment. Despite not having a single hope of reaching the doors in time, and despite the fact there’s another train 60 seconds behind that one, they still charge wildly towards it as if trying not to get left behind during the Rapture.
Now, I saw the train ahead of me, and the doors just beginning to close, and knew that A) I could in no way cross the remaining distance at sufficient speed to reach the doors under my own lumbering Gollum like locomotion and B) Even if I could, it was not worth the effort. Because I am lazy and have a certain disdain for unnecessary motion. But of course, that’s just me.
One intrepid individual however was not so hesitant. He made a daring attempt for the door. Despite having a starting point some distance behind me, he flew like a gazelle over the African savanna, quickly eclipsing my position and making for the door. Only to bounce loudly and rather comically off of the door. At which point he shook both fists at the skies and yelled “Oh god! A plague upon you!”. Now, I’ve missed the Skytrain and my bus more than a few times in my life. But it never occurred to me to try and call down divine pestilence on the offending method of transportation.
Oh, and it turns out you can in fact milk a walrus provided you are brave enough, seductively interspecies enough or simply have enough heavy tranquilizers. So walrus ice cream is well within the realm of possibility as is yogurt or cheese.
This Will Be My Fault
If you pronounce Pashmina as “Padj-man-er” in a voice typically reserved for the term “Git er’ dun!” and with the prefix "Dun order me sum!'" you probably shouldn’t be permitted to order Pashima. Or breed. But that’s another problem entirely.
You also officially gave me the first “ZOMIGAWD WILL IT GET HERE BY CHRISTMAS?!” of the season and then were, of course, unwilling to pay for shipping that would actually guarantee it arrived by Christmas. I’m sure you will naturally be calling us back at 4am Christmas Day to complain that you did not, in fact, receive it by Christmas and the operator you spoke too like totally promised it would get there by Christmas despite I having said nothing of the sort.
Monkey See
If you are waiting in line at IGA ( A grocery store for those of you playing the home game ), do not start messing with the ropes on the poles that form the line. They are actually rather cleverly designed as each has a spool of nylon inside of it, which is pulled out and hooked onto the next pole. So if you, and your monkey like approach to life, decide to start fiddling with the poles because they look like they have a switch that possibly dispenses a food pellet..…and you manage to unlatch one, the entire thing is suddenly going to get reeled back in quite dramatically. Much to the surprise of everyone around you. A simple utterance of “Whoa…that was cool.” will not justify your idiocy to onlookers either. You also did not obtain a food pellet. Only the ire of store employees. Which is much less delicious.
867
Me: “Alright, that comes to $248 and should arrive in about two weeks or so.”
SC: “Ok.”
30 seconds later.
SC: “Uh, yeah, hi, I just placed an order?”
Me: “Alright, yes. What can I help you with?”
SC: “It was item number xxxx fer $194?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “But you said it was $284!”
Me: “248.”
SC: “Uh, 248! Why doesn’t it cost $194?!”
Me: “.....because of shipping and taxes?”
SC: “…oh….uh…”
Yes. Welcome to the real world. It is a scary, overwhelming place full of strange rules and rituals such as shipping, taxes and personal hygiene. I assume your previous commerce experiences have been limited entirely to inserting quarters and pressing a button to receive confectionery, key chains, remarkably bouncy rubber balls or those weird tasting rubber balloons from the men’s bathroom at the gas station. None of which could have prepared you for the challenges you face this day. So if you’re standing there trying to jam a sweaty handful of assorted coins into the phone as we speak, please stop. There is no way for the mystical device known as the phone to physically transmit your chosen form of currency to me. Put it back in the sock, stuff it back under the mattress and wait till the post office sends you a little card ( Or dog sleds over to bang on your shed with an empty Kokanee bottle or whatever ) telling you to come pay for your pants.
Location
Me: “Alright, and what’s your phone number there please?”
SC: “Where?”
…..there. As in where you currently are. The physical location that you are occupying. The area that you’re inflicting your presence upon. Please tell me the random assortment of numbers that will allow me to make the closest talkie box at your location jingle with its petulant chimes. Thus summoning you back to the head piece for additional discussion.
Its Worth a Shot
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Oh! This isn’t a cab?”
Me: “No its not, sorry.”
SC: “Haha! You probably get this a lot, don’t you?!”
Haha! Yes, yes I do! 19 times tonight alone in fact and I hate every single last one of you for it! Oh God! A plague upon you!
Black Mana
Ah, snow. The white death of the lower mainland. Year after year it amazes me the sheer amount of panic and damage even an inch of snow will cause here amongst you westerners. There was only about an inch in Burnaby when I left for work and you know? I only had to wait for my bus for 10 minutes tonight and in that 10 minutes I saw six cars wipe out. Six. Heck, 3 of them went one after another. They actually watched the car ahead of attempt to take a turn too fast and go spinning out into someone’s yard.
Than I guess the second guy thought “Oh well, he only wiped out because he sucks. I’m vastly more awesome and talented than he is behind the wheel of my riced up Honda Civic and its complete lack of winter tires so I’ll just take the turn at the exact same speed.”
After watching the Civic go barreling off onto the sidewalk, I have no idea what the third guy must of thought. Probably something like “I EAT PASTE! CHOO CHOO!” before he slammed on the gas and took the same turn, only to end up in someone’s front yard next to the first guy.
My favourite however was the guy that tried to hit the intersection too fast, did two complete rotations and was forced to drive back up the very street he just came out of.
That aside, I’m not 100% sure I want to go downstairs now. While I was watching the snow in the parking lot from the window…..ok I was watching the cars in the parking lot to see how many had to get towed than waving if anyone looked up ( Hey, I take what entertainment I can get ), but as I was doing so this…...small horde of creatures scurried out from the side of our building and under one of the parked cars. At first I thought they were cats maybe. But no, no, cats don’t leave tracks like that. Plus too small. Than it hit me: Oh god, plague rats.
So I’m going to just stay up here in the office a little bit longer. I’m not messing with no Plague Rats. There was at least 3 and they get 1/1 for every one of them in play. 3/3. Fuck that. I’m 1/3 at best. 2/3 if I’ve had a Beaver Buzz recently.
The End of Civilization
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Ok, first off I was on hold for 10 MINUTES!”
Ok, first off: You were on hold for a minute and 45 seconds or so. So unless hitting F1 launched me into the future you’re grossly exaggerating or have a horrific perception of time. Secondly: If you haven’t noticed it’s snowing outside. In the lower mainland. Now, maybe you haven’t lived here very long but if more than an inch of snow falls on the lower mainland civilization as we know it begins to crumble around us. People grow panicked and confused. Cars fly off the road because no one in this city ever buys winter tires. Pedestrians desperately try to dive out of the way of hurdling masses of metal and death. The uncoordinated fall upon their buttocks on the cold, cruel ground. The moon has turned red as blood. Everything is cancer and madness.
We are literally on the verge of the Armageddon. The Riders of the Apocalypse are galloping down Granville as we speak: Death, Pestilence, War, Famine, Donner and Blitzen.
So there are far more important calls I must attend too first, such as dispatching emergency services before I can get to your line and provide you with the cell phone number of some random company employee at 2am.
!
SC: “Hey, could you help me find a number for snow removal?”
You’re asking I complete something outside of the realm of what I am normally required to provide. You’re offering me a side quest, if you will. Yet you have not yet demonstrated any manner of reward that would entice me to undertake such a task on your behalf. My time is precious and most of it is spend following the main storyline of my shift. So unless you’re offering +STR or +DEX accessories or at the very least a new hauberk or some greaves, I’m afraid I can’t help you.
You Realize I'm Not Obligated To Answer, Right?
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Yeah, can I get a cab?”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh. Whose this?”
Me: “This is <company>.”
SC: “Whazzit?”
Me: “<company>.”
SC: “..huh? Whose is this?”
Me: “Ok. Look. You have the wrong number. Alright?”
SC: “Yeah, but who is this?!”
Me: "Goodbye."
I am in no way obligated to answer that question. I will do so once or twice out of politeness. But seeing as how we’ve already established that you have misdialed, you are in no way actually entitled to know who or where you are calling and I am not required to provide you with the faintest shred of information. Persisting in asking the question over and over to satisfy your misplaced curiosity is both fantastically rude and idiotic. Please go attempt to shake hands with a wood chipper. Twice if at all possible.
Argh.....today is gonna suck too even though I'm off. >.>
867
SC: “The catalog says it only comes in 2XL. Can I get it in 3XL?”
Ah, I see the word “only” has failed you too. Don’t worry, I know your pain and sympathize. Worry not, brother, I am here for you! Come, we shall form a support group and perhaps print a monthly newsletter or at least print up a bunch of stationary and some buttons. We have a bright future of bake sales and telethons ahead of us.
867
Me: "That comes to $xxx and should arrive in about two weeks."
SC: “So…uh, any discounts today?”
No, no there isn’t. We do not keep a list of special bonus discounts specifically for those that think to ask for it. Nor do we function on any sort of barter system with which you can use to reduce the listed prices through the application of promises of bonus livestock should I accept your terms. Though I put little value in…pink camo…I’m still not about to trade it for….er…..what livestock does one keep in the frozen north anyhow? Seal? Walrus? Can you milk walrus?
Because walrus ice cream would be sort of awesome. Disturbing. But awesome.
A Cunning Plan
Caller was calling to inquire about a specific property for sale. Not because the property was appealing, affordable or in a desirably area, but rather because the caller was searching for a good place to "lay low from the police for a while" and this seemed like a good location. He did not specify why he had to hide from law enforcement or if he had in fact done anything to merit their attention or only thought he did. But judging by the time of the call and apparent intellect of the caller I would hazard to say farm animals and/or latex was involved.
Comprehension
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Is this Blah Blah Taxi?”
Me: “No, sorry. You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh. This isn’t Blah Blah Taxi?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Oh. Is this any taxi company?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Oh. This is someone completely different?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Oh.”
Why is it the more simplistic the concept the more difficult it is to convey to you? I hope you’re experiencing some sort of trade off for the grim level of basic comprehension you’re displaying. Like at the very least you can grasp complex astrophysics in exchange for the fact it takes you 15 minutes grasp the concept of “supersizing” at McDonald’s even after the counter girl draws you a diagram on a placemat in Nugget Yellow crayon from your Happy Meal.
Jailbird
( Like I'm getting fire for you, jackass. )
Me: “Alright, I can’t get a hold of <lawyer>, but I'll have him call there as soon as I do.”
Cop: “Ok, did you want to talk to the guy in custody?”
What? The guy in jail? No, not really. You already told me who he is, why he’s being held and how to contact you. That covers all my bases. I don’t want to actually interact with that farktard and I know he’s going to be an farktard. Because DUI is the badge of farktards. They go for it right after they earn their "Incident Exposure" badge.
SC: “Uh, hi.”
Dammit. Why? There is nothing I could possible glean from this guy, why do you make me speak with him?
Me: Hi, this is the afterhours service for <law office>, was there any further message you’d like me to pass along to your lawyer?”
SC: “Uh, any further message?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “I want to talk to him!”
Me: “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like he’s up yet so I can’t get a hold of him right now. I can pass a message on as soon as I get a hold of him.”
SC: “Well what am I suppose to do then?”
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t give you legal advice. I’m not a lawyer myself. I’m only an operator.”
SC: “So do I just sit here and let them do whatever?”
Me: “I cannot give you legal advice. All I can do is pass along your message as soon as possible.”
SC: “So do I just stay in jail all night?”
Me: “I am not permitted to give you legal advice. All you can do is wait for them to call back there.”
SC: “So just let them do whatever to me?”
Me: “I cannot give you legal advice.”
SC: “So what about the breath thing, do I give them a sample or not?”
Me: “I cannot. Give you. Any legal advice whatsoever. I’m not permitted to do so..”
SC: “Well what do I do then?”
Me: “You’ll have to wait till your lawyer is available.”
SC: “So what do I do?”
Me: “I can’t. Give. You. Any. Legal. Advice. You’ll have to wait for your lawyer.”
SC: “What do I do then?!”
Me: “Ok, I can’t give you ANY legal advice WHATSOEVER and I have to get off the line now. I have other calls.”
SC: “Noooo, don’t get off the line! What do I do?!!”
Damn you. Damn you all. I told you I didn’t want to talk to the ass turkey and that there was no possible additional information that that drunken rectal marmot could provide that would be of any interest or relevance to me. But nooo, you had to patch me over to him anyway and you didn’t even tell him anything that I told you so I had to explain everything to him again. Probably so you yourself could avoid having to do so, Constable Jerktrout.
Skytrain Divers
Ah, Skytrain divers. Always impromptu daily entertainment. Despite not having a single hope of reaching the doors in time, and despite the fact there’s another train 60 seconds behind that one, they still charge wildly towards it as if trying not to get left behind during the Rapture.
Now, I saw the train ahead of me, and the doors just beginning to close, and knew that A) I could in no way cross the remaining distance at sufficient speed to reach the doors under my own lumbering Gollum like locomotion and B) Even if I could, it was not worth the effort. Because I am lazy and have a certain disdain for unnecessary motion. But of course, that’s just me.
One intrepid individual however was not so hesitant. He made a daring attempt for the door. Despite having a starting point some distance behind me, he flew like a gazelle over the African savanna, quickly eclipsing my position and making for the door. Only to bounce loudly and rather comically off of the door. At which point he shook both fists at the skies and yelled “Oh god! A plague upon you!”. Now, I’ve missed the Skytrain and my bus more than a few times in my life. But it never occurred to me to try and call down divine pestilence on the offending method of transportation.
Oh, and it turns out you can in fact milk a walrus provided you are brave enough, seductively interspecies enough or simply have enough heavy tranquilizers. So walrus ice cream is well within the realm of possibility as is yogurt or cheese.
This Will Be My Fault
If you pronounce Pashmina as “Padj-man-er” in a voice typically reserved for the term “Git er’ dun!” and with the prefix "Dun order me sum!'" you probably shouldn’t be permitted to order Pashima. Or breed. But that’s another problem entirely.
You also officially gave me the first “ZOMIGAWD WILL IT GET HERE BY CHRISTMAS?!” of the season and then were, of course, unwilling to pay for shipping that would actually guarantee it arrived by Christmas. I’m sure you will naturally be calling us back at 4am Christmas Day to complain that you did not, in fact, receive it by Christmas and the operator you spoke too like totally promised it would get there by Christmas despite I having said nothing of the sort.
Monkey See
If you are waiting in line at IGA ( A grocery store for those of you playing the home game ), do not start messing with the ropes on the poles that form the line. They are actually rather cleverly designed as each has a spool of nylon inside of it, which is pulled out and hooked onto the next pole. So if you, and your monkey like approach to life, decide to start fiddling with the poles because they look like they have a switch that possibly dispenses a food pellet..…and you manage to unlatch one, the entire thing is suddenly going to get reeled back in quite dramatically. Much to the surprise of everyone around you. A simple utterance of “Whoa…that was cool.” will not justify your idiocy to onlookers either. You also did not obtain a food pellet. Only the ire of store employees. Which is much less delicious.
867
Me: “Alright, that comes to $248 and should arrive in about two weeks or so.”
SC: “Ok.”
30 seconds later.
SC: “Uh, yeah, hi, I just placed an order?”
Me: “Alright, yes. What can I help you with?”
SC: “It was item number xxxx fer $194?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “But you said it was $284!”
Me: “248.”
SC: “Uh, 248! Why doesn’t it cost $194?!”
Me: “.....because of shipping and taxes?”
SC: “…oh….uh…”
Yes. Welcome to the real world. It is a scary, overwhelming place full of strange rules and rituals such as shipping, taxes and personal hygiene. I assume your previous commerce experiences have been limited entirely to inserting quarters and pressing a button to receive confectionery, key chains, remarkably bouncy rubber balls or those weird tasting rubber balloons from the men’s bathroom at the gas station. None of which could have prepared you for the challenges you face this day. So if you’re standing there trying to jam a sweaty handful of assorted coins into the phone as we speak, please stop. There is no way for the mystical device known as the phone to physically transmit your chosen form of currency to me. Put it back in the sock, stuff it back under the mattress and wait till the post office sends you a little card ( Or dog sleds over to bang on your shed with an empty Kokanee bottle or whatever ) telling you to come pay for your pants.
Location
Me: “Alright, and what’s your phone number there please?”
SC: “Where?”
…..there. As in where you currently are. The physical location that you are occupying. The area that you’re inflicting your presence upon. Please tell me the random assortment of numbers that will allow me to make the closest talkie box at your location jingle with its petulant chimes. Thus summoning you back to the head piece for additional discussion.
Its Worth a Shot
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Oh! This isn’t a cab?”
Me: “No its not, sorry.”
SC: “Haha! You probably get this a lot, don’t you?!”
Haha! Yes, yes I do! 19 times tonight alone in fact and I hate every single last one of you for it! Oh God! A plague upon you!
Black Mana
Ah, snow. The white death of the lower mainland. Year after year it amazes me the sheer amount of panic and damage even an inch of snow will cause here amongst you westerners. There was only about an inch in Burnaby when I left for work and you know? I only had to wait for my bus for 10 minutes tonight and in that 10 minutes I saw six cars wipe out. Six. Heck, 3 of them went one after another. They actually watched the car ahead of attempt to take a turn too fast and go spinning out into someone’s yard.
Than I guess the second guy thought “Oh well, he only wiped out because he sucks. I’m vastly more awesome and talented than he is behind the wheel of my riced up Honda Civic and its complete lack of winter tires so I’ll just take the turn at the exact same speed.”
After watching the Civic go barreling off onto the sidewalk, I have no idea what the third guy must of thought. Probably something like “I EAT PASTE! CHOO CHOO!” before he slammed on the gas and took the same turn, only to end up in someone’s front yard next to the first guy.
My favourite however was the guy that tried to hit the intersection too fast, did two complete rotations and was forced to drive back up the very street he just came out of.
That aside, I’m not 100% sure I want to go downstairs now. While I was watching the snow in the parking lot from the window…..ok I was watching the cars in the parking lot to see how many had to get towed than waving if anyone looked up ( Hey, I take what entertainment I can get ), but as I was doing so this…...small horde of creatures scurried out from the side of our building and under one of the parked cars. At first I thought they were cats maybe. But no, no, cats don’t leave tracks like that. Plus too small. Than it hit me: Oh god, plague rats.
So I’m going to just stay up here in the office a little bit longer. I’m not messing with no Plague Rats. There was at least 3 and they get 1/1 for every one of them in play. 3/3. Fuck that. I’m 1/3 at best. 2/3 if I’ve had a Beaver Buzz recently.
The End of Civilization
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Ok, first off I was on hold for 10 MINUTES!”
Ok, first off: You were on hold for a minute and 45 seconds or so. So unless hitting F1 launched me into the future you’re grossly exaggerating or have a horrific perception of time. Secondly: If you haven’t noticed it’s snowing outside. In the lower mainland. Now, maybe you haven’t lived here very long but if more than an inch of snow falls on the lower mainland civilization as we know it begins to crumble around us. People grow panicked and confused. Cars fly off the road because no one in this city ever buys winter tires. Pedestrians desperately try to dive out of the way of hurdling masses of metal and death. The uncoordinated fall upon their buttocks on the cold, cruel ground. The moon has turned red as blood. Everything is cancer and madness.
We are literally on the verge of the Armageddon. The Riders of the Apocalypse are galloping down Granville as we speak: Death, Pestilence, War, Famine, Donner and Blitzen.
So there are far more important calls I must attend too first, such as dispatching emergency services before I can get to your line and provide you with the cell phone number of some random company employee at 2am.
!
SC: “Hey, could you help me find a number for snow removal?”
You’re asking I complete something outside of the realm of what I am normally required to provide. You’re offering me a side quest, if you will. Yet you have not yet demonstrated any manner of reward that would entice me to undertake such a task on your behalf. My time is precious and most of it is spend following the main storyline of my shift. So unless you’re offering +STR or +DEX accessories or at the very least a new hauberk or some greaves, I’m afraid I can’t help you.
You Realize I'm Not Obligated To Answer, Right?
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Yeah, can I get a cab?”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh. Whose this?”
Me: “This is <company>.”
SC: “Whazzit?”
Me: “<company>.”
SC: “..huh? Whose is this?”
Me: “Ok. Look. You have the wrong number. Alright?”
SC: “Yeah, but who is this?!”
Me: "Goodbye."
I am in no way obligated to answer that question. I will do so once or twice out of politeness. But seeing as how we’ve already established that you have misdialed, you are in no way actually entitled to know who or where you are calling and I am not required to provide you with the faintest shred of information. Persisting in asking the question over and over to satisfy your misplaced curiosity is both fantastically rude and idiotic. Please go attempt to shake hands with a wood chipper. Twice if at all possible.
Argh.....today is gonna suck too even though I'm off. >.>
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