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When the going gets weird the weird get going.. I'm having more and more strange calls lately. I wish they were fictions of my imagination. Alas, they are not.
The King Of Pop Has Left The Building
Thursday I'm working and I keep hearing whispers about someone named "Michael" in the background of many of my calls. Later I hear it's the death of Michael Jackson everyone is whispering about. Sad but not totally unexpected or the end of civilization as we know it. And then the hysterical crying Michael fans call and start crying, trying to order flowers to be sent God alone only knows where considering no one has his addy. I found myself being part grief counselor, part hand holder of the mentally unbalanced. Lovely.
Ich Bien Eine Berliner or I Am A Cream Filled Donut Head
Lady calls 15 times angrily demanding a funeral delivery in Berlin Germany in a few short hours. Get this, she wanted stuff we don't even carry.
Stalker Unfriendly
I get one of those late night calls I dread, someone clearly in need of baby food, therapy, straight jackets, electric shocks and thorozine. Right after I spiel off the company greeting she launches into this...
"see I gots me this boyfriend and I need to buy him something something to make up for last night where I pissed of his dad I just wanted to be with him because he's the best thing to everhappento meinmyentire life and we're goinggobemarried andhavebabiesthebestestbabiesever.. and heistheloveofmylife but hisdaddydoanlikeme so I sleep by the doorin the bushes so I can get a glimpse of my love... and I like to sculpt his picture from leftoverpasta and smell hisblankets... and so on.."
Now I'm not interrupting this stream of conscience rattling on and on in a stalkerly fashion, I'm just going 'uh-huh' and 'yes" once in a great while until she suddenly halts mid-babble and says, "Your ad says friendly service and you are not friendly!" before she hangs up.
Bend A Stem Get A Knuckle Sammich
One lady ordering told me to tell the florist not to fuck up the order because the recipient was in the Mafia and she was afraid he'd wack the florist if flowers were ugly.
Roses Are Red Weed Is Plentiful
Get a very stoned sounding guy calling this week that just iced the weird cake with all sorts of stoned weird gooey goodness.
I greet him with the company spiel and he says, "Ugh.. mumblemumblemuble... name is Frank... mumblbemumblemumble.. I write poems about roses.. mumblemumblemumble and I want you to buy my poems to put on your cards,, mumblemumblemumble."
Yes, you heard right, stoned poet calls florist and tells them that they need to buy his verse to grace the tiny cards people write their messages on.
The King Of Pop Has Left The Building
Thursday I'm working and I keep hearing whispers about someone named "Michael" in the background of many of my calls. Later I hear it's the death of Michael Jackson everyone is whispering about. Sad but not totally unexpected or the end of civilization as we know it. And then the hysterical crying Michael fans call and start crying, trying to order flowers to be sent God alone only knows where considering no one has his addy. I found myself being part grief counselor, part hand holder of the mentally unbalanced. Lovely.
Ich Bien Eine Berliner or I Am A Cream Filled Donut Head
Lady calls 15 times angrily demanding a funeral delivery in Berlin Germany in a few short hours. Get this, she wanted stuff we don't even carry.
Stalker Unfriendly
I get one of those late night calls I dread, someone clearly in need of baby food, therapy, straight jackets, electric shocks and thorozine. Right after I spiel off the company greeting she launches into this...
"see I gots me this boyfriend and I need to buy him something something to make up for last night where I pissed of his dad I just wanted to be with him because he's the best thing to everhappento meinmyentire life and we're goinggobemarried andhavebabiesthebestestbabiesever.. and heistheloveofmylife but hisdaddydoanlikeme so I sleep by the doorin the bushes so I can get a glimpse of my love... and I like to sculpt his picture from leftoverpasta and smell hisblankets... and so on.."
Now I'm not interrupting this stream of conscience rattling on and on in a stalkerly fashion, I'm just going 'uh-huh' and 'yes" once in a great while until she suddenly halts mid-babble and says, "Your ad says friendly service and you are not friendly!" before she hangs up.
Bend A Stem Get A Knuckle Sammich
One lady ordering told me to tell the florist not to fuck up the order because the recipient was in the Mafia and she was afraid he'd wack the florist if flowers were ugly.
Roses Are Red Weed Is Plentiful
Get a very stoned sounding guy calling this week that just iced the weird cake with all sorts of stoned weird gooey goodness.
I greet him with the company spiel and he says, "Ugh.. mumblemumblemuble... name is Frank... mumblbemumblemumble.. I write poems about roses.. mumblemumblemumble and I want you to buy my poems to put on your cards,, mumblemumblemumble."
Yes, you heard right, stoned poet calls florist and tells them that they need to buy his verse to grace the tiny cards people write their messages on.
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