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Cthuluisk
Oh man...thing things I have seen and heard.
Bridging The Divide
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Can I order jacket?”
If you must.
Me: “Alright, which catalog is it in?”
SC: “Uhhh……<comapny>”
I don’t know why I even ask. This is always the standard answer. As if they feel the need to point out they are ordering from the catalog that belongs to the company they’re currently calling. You know, just in case we normally get a lot of calls from people trying to order from the Sears catalog. So they have to make sure to be specific. See it’s actually for my benefit so that I’m not confused.
Yes, that’s right. She’s trying to dumb things down for me. It’s the intellectual equivalent of having shower mold annunciate.
Me: “Ok, but which one? Is it the fall catalog? The winter catalog?”
SC: “Uuuuh…..I forgot.”
You….forgot? ….how….did you forget? I mean, do you not have the catalog right in front of you? Did you actually fail to retain that information in the time it took to look up from the catalog at the phone?
SC: “I left it at grandma’s”
So you literally forgot, but decided to press forth anyhow without the single most important piece of the puzzle. I commend your determination, but lament your foolishness.
Me: “Alright, do you have the item number?”
SC: “Item number?”
Me: “Yes, the item ID number from the catalog?”
SC: “Uhhh….no.”
…ok, so you don’t have the catalog. You don’t have the item number. And the most specific description you can give me of the article you desire is “jacket”. Wow. You really came into this with nothing but “jacket” to work with? You expect me, even with my formidable power, to be able to extrapolate the item you’re envision based solely upon “jacket”? While it is true that my skills and abilities are immense. Even robust. But I’m afraid they do not cross the line into the paranormal. As such I cannot divine the object you seek. Nor can I peer into the dark confines of your empty mind in an attempt to illuminate the dim thoughts within so that I may see what it is you have seen while grubbily pawing your way through the catalog.
What Is This...Strange Thing
Me: "Alright, and your address please?"
SC: “Where are you?”
Me: “I’m in BC, personally, but we cover all of Canada.”
SC: “Oooh, BC. I’ve been out that way before. It’s very nice-“
Stop that. What are you doing? What is this strange, meandering line of dialogue you are embarking on? Oooh, oh, wait a minute. I know. You’re trying to be “friendly”, right? I believe I have heard of this before. Most curious. This is “small talk” if I recall correctly. A feeble attempt to engage me in social interaction on a verbal level despite me being a complete and total stranger you care nothing about. Curious indeed.
You must forgive me, such treatment by callers such as yourself is for the most part utterly alien to me.
Darkest Secrets
Me: “Alright, and the item number please?”
SC: “Uh, I’d like to get the sweater.”
Ah yes, The Sweater™. I assume it goes with The Jacket™.
SC: “It’s xxxx5”
Me: “xxxx5?”
SC: “Yeah.”
….odd, something seems amiss here. There are no sizes listed when I punch that in, and I doubt its one size fits all….you’re completely positive that’s the right ID number?
Me: “It doesn’t seem to be listing any size options under that. One moment, let me check on it, alright?”
I shall ask the website itself. It will provide me with the answers I seek.
Me: “xxxx5, right?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “…..ooookay, that’s a purse.”
A rather lovely purse at that. Creamy champagne coloured with a blue satin lining. I’m sure it would look lovely on you. Though I am curious as to how you managed to make this mistake. You’re quite certain of the item number…..and I know which catalog you’re looking in. Purses and men’s sweaters are not on the same page. So you must have continued to flick through the catalog to reach the page the purses were on….and stopped specifically on that page and gazed at the one in question. I assume you than thought “Oh! That would like utterly fabulous with my beer gut and stained flannel ensemble” and in an unguarded subconscious moment inadvertently blurted out the item ID number.
Me: “You’re sure it was xxxx5?”
SC: “Ye...a.....Uh, uhh….”
It’s alright, don’t panic. It’s ok. There’s nothing wrong with a strange deep seeded desire to wear a purse ( high heels, suspenders and a bra. ). At least not in most provinces and some states. I suppose I can’t really speak for Nunavut. But I’m sure you’ll be the prettiest boy in all of Inuvik. Chin up, lad. Chest out. And work what the good lord gave you.
SC: “<totally different item number>?”
Oh, trying to cover for yourself now? It’s too late. I know all about your little secrets now and I agree that blue satin is totally your colour.
Me: “Alright, so xxxx4?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Still trying to cover? Very well, I suppose if you wish I’ll just pretend that’s what you really wanted all along……..do you still want me to “accidentally” send you the purse too? It actually matches that sweater very well. They’re both from the same company after all. You could put together a rather nice outfit you know. You’ll be the talk of the town. The hushed, alarmed whispered talk of the town, but the talk of the town none the less.
Hissss~
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Oh wow! You’re actually still open?!”
Yes, yes we are. Though that statement indicates you figured we’d be closed but decided to call anyway. Despite your belief it would result in total failure. This seems like a questionable if not downright dangerous thought process to go through every day life with. I assume you’re the kind of person that when someone tells you something is hot, you stick your hand on it than go “Ow! Damn that IS hot.” Normally individuals such as yourself are removed from the gene pool fairly swiftly. But unfortunately our species has developed hospitals and 911 call centres who whether they like it or not, tend to be standing directly in the path of natural selection with their thumb jammed desperately in the dam.
Baaaa
SC: “Uh….can I order lao blaster or something?”
Lao….blaster?
Me: “What was that, sorry?”
SC: “Well, this….uh….lamb blazer.”
Lamb….blazer…? Are you trying to order a jacket or BBQ equipment? Because I assure you we have neither blazers nor grills to be honest. Or do you mean a blazer for a lamb? In which case we don’t carry those either, frankly. I don’t think anyone makes clothes for sheep considering we make cloths out of sheep to begin with. Though I can appreciate the irony of such a garment if it did indeed exist.
Me: “I’m sorry?”
SC: “Wow blazer.”
…we don’t carry World of Warcraft merchandise either. Nor do I think anyone has thought to affix the brand name to a blazer.
Me: “A what?”
SC: “Page 10. A hat.”
A lamb blazer hat? …what? I don’t even….you want a hat that has a picture of a jacket for sheep on it? Is that it? Or do you mean like a Chevy Blazer? So you want a hat with a picture of a Chevy Blazer on it….being driven by sheep? Is that it? Help me out here.
Me: “…..ok, which catalog are you looking in?”
SC: “Page 10.”
Me: “Which catalog?”
SC: “Huh?”
Every catalog the company has ever printed in the last 10 years has a page 10. Try to be just a tad more specific. If we are to find this truck driving sheep emblazoned skull cap of yours I’m going to need just a bit more to go on than “page 10”.
Me: “Page 10 in which catalog?”
SC: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Can I order?”
Me: “Yes, but which catalog is that item in?”
SC: “Wha?”
Think you fool! Your truck driving sheep paraphernalia depends on it.
Me: “Which. Catalog. Are. You. Looking. In?”
SC: “Lamb blazer”
Me: “….no, which catalog is it in?”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “….<click>”
It seems my complex inquiries and unrelenting verbal assault have finally overwhelmed what primitive defenses her mind had. Which isn’t saying much. It’s a miracle she, or anyone else in her immediate area, manages to function on a daily basis. I’ve never seen a group, or rather entire land so...so…..dimly lit and not in the polar night sense. I would love to visit some day ( At a distance, wearing protective gear and with a tazer in case one of you charges ) and just observe exactly how this society manages to function when everyone in it is operating on the bare minimum level required to scientifically separate themselves from simians.
A Sense of Urgency
SC: “Hi, someone dealing with America services is using my bank account to pay for their credit card!”
O…kay? So…call your bank? Have them block the payments? Contact the police and report it? What in the lamb blazers do you want us to do about it at 2 in the morning?
Me: “America services?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “I’m not sure what you’re referring to by America services.”
SC: “It’s an American.”
Me: “Have you contacted local authorities?”
SC: “Yeah, I’ve contacted the police and the RCMP. No one will help me!!!”
I find that whenever someone on this line tells me the authorities won’t help them, what they really mean is “Won’t help me because I’m either crazy and making this up or an idiot and have made a mistake I’m attempting to cover for. Badly.” So you’ll have to come up with a more compelling scenario if you wish me to assist you. Preferably one that would actually merit some level of urgency at 2am. I don’t suppose they used your bank account to pay off a credit card charge they used at Kinkos to pay for a bunch of copies of death threats to the President or something, did they?
SC: “There’s no way this can be my transaction because I’m not American! It’s obviously an American citizen that’s doing it.”
Well, colour me convinced. Your logic and grasp of the justice system are without parallel. Allow me to contact the emergency on call right this moment and tell him you’re not an American. I’m sure he’ll get right on it.
The Prankster
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hallo?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Hallo. I need speak to somebody that can speak CHINAAAZE!!!”
Chinese? That’s odd. You don’t sound Chinese. You sound 12 year old from Louisiana trying to imitate a bad Chinese accent he learned from watching Mind of Mencia.
Me: “Riiiiiiight.”
SC: “HALLO!?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “I NEED SPEAK SOMEBODY THAT SPEAK CHINEEEEEZE”
Me: “No one here can speak Chinese.”
SC: “No no no no no! I NEED TO SPEAK TO SOMEONE THAT CAN SPEAK CHINAAAAZE! I NEED TOO!”
I’m not sure what “CHINAAAAZE” is. It sounds like something cheese flavoured you’d spread on bagels.
Me: “I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
SC: “No! I’m not out of luck, I’m IN luck!”
Me: “You also do a terrible Chinese accent.”
SC: “F**k you! Bitch! <click>”
Oh, hey, wow. You learned English remarkably quickly all of a sudden. You got over your accent and everything! Amazing. You must have a remarkably grasp of languages to catch on so quickly. Just a little pro tip for you: If you’re going to attempt prank calls, it helps if you don’t have thinner skin than the person you’re trying to prank.
The Prankster 2
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hallo?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Hallo. I need speak to somebody speak CHINAAAZE!!!”
Ah, yes. A prank so witty, clever and successful it was worth repeating 60 seconds later.
Me: “Nobody here speaks Chinese.”
SC: “I NEED SPEAK SOMEBODY THAT SPEAK CHINAAAAAAAZE!!!!”
Me: “Well, too bad so sad.”
SC: “HALLOOOO!? <click>”
What exactly are you attempting to accomplish anyhow? What the hell would you do if I did have someone that spoke Chinese on hand? It’s not exactly a rare language here you know. Heck, this is Canada. You name it, I can probably find someone that speaks it in a 25km radius. Thus is the beauty of multiculturalism.
The Prankster 3
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “F*ck you! F*ck you! <click>”
Did I really damage your grossly underdeveloped sense of masculinity that much? I think you’re missing the point of prank calls. The whole point is for you to aggravate and annoy the person you’re calling. Not yourself. This isn’t a prank call anymore. This is sort of like a reverse prank call. A riposte prank call if you will.
The Prankster 4
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hi.”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: "I would like to buy <prooooodduuuccct>.”
Oh, a new approach. It only took him, let’s see, 20 minutes to think of one. Very well, I shall play along. For the moment.
Me: “I’m afraid you must be a member to use our services. If you like I could send you the required applications."
SC: “No. I don’t want that. I just want <prooooduuuucct>.”
Me: “That’s the only way to obtain it I’m afraid.”
sC: “Well, I’m sorry but you…..just lost someone that…uh....uhhhhh…is VERY important! <click>”
I’m sure I did. How was that even a prank call? What was the point of it? What precisely were you expecting me to say or trying to accomplish? Trying to make me feel bad because I just missed out on a really important customer? One so important he shops for <product> at 4am? Right. You know, the whole point of prank calling is the prank. Without the prank it’s pointless calling. Unless the prank is something along the lines of “Ha ha I just wasted 30 seconds of both our lives!” in which case your bar for what constitutes humour is even lower than I first anticipated. Beneath even Mencia, and that’s saying something.
Argh
It’s ok, if somewhat annoying, if you want to play a little tune on the number pad while you’re waiting on hold. But please have the sense to stop your performance when I do pick up the line. I cannot get a word in edge wise through the world’s most obnoxious rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Seriously?
Me: “Good morning, <company that has coffee in its name because it installs and services related equipment for restaurants. So this is their afterhours emergency service line.>”
SC: “Yeah, do you know if Starbucks is open today?”
....What? No. Why don’t you call Starbucks?
Me: “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, sorry.”
SC: “Do you know if any coffee place is open today?!”
COME ON MAN~! I NEED MY FIX. C’mon! Tell me! I’m getting the shakes jus sittin’ here. I gotta know, man! C’mon baby, DADDY NEEDS HIS LAVA JAVA.
But, but, but!
SC: “Yeah, we’d like to rebook our flight.”
Me: “I’m afraid we don’t do flight bookings, this line is for hotel reservations only.”
SC: “But they gave us this number!”
Me: “I’m not sure why they did, but I’m afraid we only book hotels.”
SC: “Really? But this the number they gaaaaave us!”
Oh, well, in that case. Just give me a moment to spontaneously change industries and I’ll be right with you! Seriously though, I understand. This is the number They™ gave you. But They™ are mistaken. Continuing to protest that They™ gave you this number will in no way alter the services I provide. I do not normally do only hotel bookings than suddenly provide flight bookings when someone calls and mentions that They™ sent them our way. I do not even know who They™ are. But I would urge you to go back and tell Them™ that They™ made a grievous error.
Shut it.
Me: “I’m afraid I’m not showing any available hotels there. One moment, let me put you through to our customer service desk and they’ll see if they can find something for you. Alright?”
SC: “Alright, yeah. Because we were on our way to Montreal and we just had a stop over in Calgary but we missed our connector flight so now we’re-“
If I may interrupt your misguided tirade: I said “Let me put you through to our customer service desk” not “Let me sit here and endure the entire 20 minute story of your misfortune beginning with 6am this morning when you accidentally dropped your tooth brush in the toilet after the cat startled you because he was running from the dog which was chasing him away from his food dish after your wife put some doggy treats out because you got up early for your flight and usually the dog doesn’t get treats till 9am but you had to get up at 6am so you put them out early but the cat was miffed because she didn’t put out cat treats yet so it went for the doggy treats and the dog chased him off into the bath room so you dropped your tooth brush in the toilet so you had to use your wife’s but that made you late packing your luggage as you tried to rush to the airport to catch the flight which was late coming into Calgary because of some sort of runway delay so you missed your connector and your wife was really cranky than it took forever to get your luggage so you went up to the Air Canada desk and they have you this little slip with our number on it so you waited in line for 20 minutes at the payphone to get a chance to call us than you got through to us and now we don’t have any rooms.”
Does that about sum it up? Yes? Ok, good. Now shut up and let me transfer you to our service desk.
Cthuluisk
My trip here was rife with outright terror. When I boarded the Skytrain I found myself a quiet corner to burrow into and hoped to pass the intervening minutes undisturbed. I was not so lucky. For by Metrotown a creature had boarded that I can only really describe as a lumberjack troll. He certainly had the proper lumberjack attire. Flannel, work boots, more flannel, toque, additional flannel, work belt, yet more flannel. But buried beneath these plaid folds was some sort of primitive sea creature I’d not yet witnessed in this city. A sort of pale, gaunt creature that despite its thin frame still somehow managed to have a beer gut. Like a beach ball taped to a coat rack. At first I was mildly alarmed as it sat down in front of me, but it passed out in a drunken stupor within moments. Head against the Skytrain window. Mouth ajar. Small strand of drool sparkling in its reflection in the window. Believing myself safe….I let my guard down. A tragic mistaken.
Some time later I was roused when the beast itself suddenly startled awake and made a noise sort of like “garabahg-huh!?”. As if surprised he had lapsed into unconsciousness to begin with. Than came a great cacophony if noise. Of unwrapping. As the creature struggled to free something from within several layers of plastic and paper. That’s when it hit me: The aroma.
I do not know what was in this wrapper. Nor how anyone could feed on it so readily ( and loudly ) as the beast was doing so. But it burned my sinuses and watered the eyes of all within 10 feet. I saw people wincing in surprise as it washed over them like the Mist. Struggled as I might, my brain just could not quite identified the smell. I knew that onions were involved somehow. Deeply involved. But simple onions could not account the sheer impact of this scent. It was almost….Cthuluisk. As if someone had tossed these onions through some sort of rift into the realms of the Elder Gods, and they had tossed them back. Apparently after using them as a suppository for a fortnight.
But this guy was feeding on them ravenously like they were a cure for cancer. With his mouth wide open so every bit of snarfing, chewing, swallowing and belching was amplified for the enjoyment of all within the Skytrain car. Whatever dark object had nestled within that wrapper barely survived a minute and a half in the face of its consumer. After which he crumbled up the wrappings and shoved them back in his backpack. Me ( and everything else with a nose ) breathed a sigh of relief. It was once again safe to draw air through our nasal cavities.
With the danger past, I began to relax once again. Till I was suddenly yet again aghast as I heard a horrific noise that was halfway between a belch and regurgitation. Alarmed, I looked up….and he was chewing again. I watched, stunned, as he swallowed….than made the horrible belchysqargly noise again…and chewed again. Oh my fucking god. He’s chewing it twice. Like a cow. Gah! What in the name of all creation are you doing?! Even trolls have some manner of dignity and class.
Of course it got off at Broadway. The port of call for all things horrific and obscene in this city.
annnnd rest.
Bridging The Divide
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Can I order jacket?”
If you must.
Me: “Alright, which catalog is it in?”
SC: “Uhhh……<comapny>”
I don’t know why I even ask. This is always the standard answer. As if they feel the need to point out they are ordering from the catalog that belongs to the company they’re currently calling. You know, just in case we normally get a lot of calls from people trying to order from the Sears catalog. So they have to make sure to be specific. See it’s actually for my benefit so that I’m not confused.
Yes, that’s right. She’s trying to dumb things down for me. It’s the intellectual equivalent of having shower mold annunciate.
Me: “Ok, but which one? Is it the fall catalog? The winter catalog?”
SC: “Uuuuh…..I forgot.”
You….forgot? ….how….did you forget? I mean, do you not have the catalog right in front of you? Did you actually fail to retain that information in the time it took to look up from the catalog at the phone?
SC: “I left it at grandma’s”
So you literally forgot, but decided to press forth anyhow without the single most important piece of the puzzle. I commend your determination, but lament your foolishness.
Me: “Alright, do you have the item number?”
SC: “Item number?”
Me: “Yes, the item ID number from the catalog?”
SC: “Uhhh….no.”
…ok, so you don’t have the catalog. You don’t have the item number. And the most specific description you can give me of the article you desire is “jacket”. Wow. You really came into this with nothing but “jacket” to work with? You expect me, even with my formidable power, to be able to extrapolate the item you’re envision based solely upon “jacket”? While it is true that my skills and abilities are immense. Even robust. But I’m afraid they do not cross the line into the paranormal. As such I cannot divine the object you seek. Nor can I peer into the dark confines of your empty mind in an attempt to illuminate the dim thoughts within so that I may see what it is you have seen while grubbily pawing your way through the catalog.
What Is This...Strange Thing
Me: "Alright, and your address please?"
SC: “Where are you?”
Me: “I’m in BC, personally, but we cover all of Canada.”
SC: “Oooh, BC. I’ve been out that way before. It’s very nice-“
Stop that. What are you doing? What is this strange, meandering line of dialogue you are embarking on? Oooh, oh, wait a minute. I know. You’re trying to be “friendly”, right? I believe I have heard of this before. Most curious. This is “small talk” if I recall correctly. A feeble attempt to engage me in social interaction on a verbal level despite me being a complete and total stranger you care nothing about. Curious indeed.
You must forgive me, such treatment by callers such as yourself is for the most part utterly alien to me.
Darkest Secrets
Me: “Alright, and the item number please?”
SC: “Uh, I’d like to get the sweater.”
Ah yes, The Sweater™. I assume it goes with The Jacket™.
SC: “It’s xxxx5”
Me: “xxxx5?”
SC: “Yeah.”
….odd, something seems amiss here. There are no sizes listed when I punch that in, and I doubt its one size fits all….you’re completely positive that’s the right ID number?
Me: “It doesn’t seem to be listing any size options under that. One moment, let me check on it, alright?”
I shall ask the website itself. It will provide me with the answers I seek.
Me: “xxxx5, right?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “…..ooookay, that’s a purse.”
A rather lovely purse at that. Creamy champagne coloured with a blue satin lining. I’m sure it would look lovely on you. Though I am curious as to how you managed to make this mistake. You’re quite certain of the item number…..and I know which catalog you’re looking in. Purses and men’s sweaters are not on the same page. So you must have continued to flick through the catalog to reach the page the purses were on….and stopped specifically on that page and gazed at the one in question. I assume you than thought “Oh! That would like utterly fabulous with my beer gut and stained flannel ensemble” and in an unguarded subconscious moment inadvertently blurted out the item ID number.
Me: “You’re sure it was xxxx5?”
SC: “Ye...a.....Uh, uhh….”
It’s alright, don’t panic. It’s ok. There’s nothing wrong with a strange deep seeded desire to wear a purse ( high heels, suspenders and a bra. ). At least not in most provinces and some states. I suppose I can’t really speak for Nunavut. But I’m sure you’ll be the prettiest boy in all of Inuvik. Chin up, lad. Chest out. And work what the good lord gave you.
SC: “<totally different item number>?”
Oh, trying to cover for yourself now? It’s too late. I know all about your little secrets now and I agree that blue satin is totally your colour.
Me: “Alright, so xxxx4?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Still trying to cover? Very well, I suppose if you wish I’ll just pretend that’s what you really wanted all along……..do you still want me to “accidentally” send you the purse too? It actually matches that sweater very well. They’re both from the same company after all. You could put together a rather nice outfit you know. You’ll be the talk of the town. The hushed, alarmed whispered talk of the town, but the talk of the town none the less.
Hissss~
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Oh wow! You’re actually still open?!”
Yes, yes we are. Though that statement indicates you figured we’d be closed but decided to call anyway. Despite your belief it would result in total failure. This seems like a questionable if not downright dangerous thought process to go through every day life with. I assume you’re the kind of person that when someone tells you something is hot, you stick your hand on it than go “Ow! Damn that IS hot.” Normally individuals such as yourself are removed from the gene pool fairly swiftly. But unfortunately our species has developed hospitals and 911 call centres who whether they like it or not, tend to be standing directly in the path of natural selection with their thumb jammed desperately in the dam.
Baaaa
SC: “Uh….can I order lao blaster or something?”
Lao….blaster?
Me: “What was that, sorry?”
SC: “Well, this….uh….lamb blazer.”
Lamb….blazer…? Are you trying to order a jacket or BBQ equipment? Because I assure you we have neither blazers nor grills to be honest. Or do you mean a blazer for a lamb? In which case we don’t carry those either, frankly. I don’t think anyone makes clothes for sheep considering we make cloths out of sheep to begin with. Though I can appreciate the irony of such a garment if it did indeed exist.
Me: “I’m sorry?”
SC: “Wow blazer.”
…we don’t carry World of Warcraft merchandise either. Nor do I think anyone has thought to affix the brand name to a blazer.
Me: “A what?”
SC: “Page 10. A hat.”
A lamb blazer hat? …what? I don’t even….you want a hat that has a picture of a jacket for sheep on it? Is that it? Or do you mean like a Chevy Blazer? So you want a hat with a picture of a Chevy Blazer on it….being driven by sheep? Is that it? Help me out here.
Me: “…..ok, which catalog are you looking in?”
SC: “Page 10.”
Me: “Which catalog?”
SC: “Huh?”
Every catalog the company has ever printed in the last 10 years has a page 10. Try to be just a tad more specific. If we are to find this truck driving sheep emblazoned skull cap of yours I’m going to need just a bit more to go on than “page 10”.
Me: “Page 10 in which catalog?”
SC: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Can I order?”
Me: “Yes, but which catalog is that item in?”
SC: “Wha?”
Think you fool! Your truck driving sheep paraphernalia depends on it.
Me: “Which. Catalog. Are. You. Looking. In?”
SC: “Lamb blazer”
Me: “….no, which catalog is it in?”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “….<click>”
It seems my complex inquiries and unrelenting verbal assault have finally overwhelmed what primitive defenses her mind had. Which isn’t saying much. It’s a miracle she, or anyone else in her immediate area, manages to function on a daily basis. I’ve never seen a group, or rather entire land so...so…..dimly lit and not in the polar night sense. I would love to visit some day ( At a distance, wearing protective gear and with a tazer in case one of you charges ) and just observe exactly how this society manages to function when everyone in it is operating on the bare minimum level required to scientifically separate themselves from simians.
A Sense of Urgency
SC: “Hi, someone dealing with America services is using my bank account to pay for their credit card!”
O…kay? So…call your bank? Have them block the payments? Contact the police and report it? What in the lamb blazers do you want us to do about it at 2 in the morning?
Me: “America services?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “I’m not sure what you’re referring to by America services.”
SC: “It’s an American.”
Me: “Have you contacted local authorities?”
SC: “Yeah, I’ve contacted the police and the RCMP. No one will help me!!!”
I find that whenever someone on this line tells me the authorities won’t help them, what they really mean is “Won’t help me because I’m either crazy and making this up or an idiot and have made a mistake I’m attempting to cover for. Badly.” So you’ll have to come up with a more compelling scenario if you wish me to assist you. Preferably one that would actually merit some level of urgency at 2am. I don’t suppose they used your bank account to pay off a credit card charge they used at Kinkos to pay for a bunch of copies of death threats to the President or something, did they?
SC: “There’s no way this can be my transaction because I’m not American! It’s obviously an American citizen that’s doing it.”
Well, colour me convinced. Your logic and grasp of the justice system are without parallel. Allow me to contact the emergency on call right this moment and tell him you’re not an American. I’m sure he’ll get right on it.
The Prankster
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hallo?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Hallo. I need speak to somebody that can speak CHINAAAZE!!!”
Chinese? That’s odd. You don’t sound Chinese. You sound 12 year old from Louisiana trying to imitate a bad Chinese accent he learned from watching Mind of Mencia.
Me: “Riiiiiiight.”
SC: “HALLO!?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “I NEED SPEAK SOMEBODY THAT SPEAK CHINEEEEEZE”
Me: “No one here can speak Chinese.”
SC: “No no no no no! I NEED TO SPEAK TO SOMEONE THAT CAN SPEAK CHINAAAAZE! I NEED TOO!”
I’m not sure what “CHINAAAAZE” is. It sounds like something cheese flavoured you’d spread on bagels.
Me: “I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
SC: “No! I’m not out of luck, I’m IN luck!”
Me: “You also do a terrible Chinese accent.”
SC: “F**k you! Bitch! <click>”
Oh, hey, wow. You learned English remarkably quickly all of a sudden. You got over your accent and everything! Amazing. You must have a remarkably grasp of languages to catch on so quickly. Just a little pro tip for you: If you’re going to attempt prank calls, it helps if you don’t have thinner skin than the person you’re trying to prank.
The Prankster 2
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hallo?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Hallo. I need speak to somebody speak CHINAAAZE!!!”
Ah, yes. A prank so witty, clever and successful it was worth repeating 60 seconds later.
Me: “Nobody here speaks Chinese.”
SC: “I NEED SPEAK SOMEBODY THAT SPEAK CHINAAAAAAAZE!!!!”
Me: “Well, too bad so sad.”
SC: “HALLOOOO!? <click>”
What exactly are you attempting to accomplish anyhow? What the hell would you do if I did have someone that spoke Chinese on hand? It’s not exactly a rare language here you know. Heck, this is Canada. You name it, I can probably find someone that speaks it in a 25km radius. Thus is the beauty of multiculturalism.
The Prankster 3
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “F*ck you! F*ck you! <click>”
Did I really damage your grossly underdeveloped sense of masculinity that much? I think you’re missing the point of prank calls. The whole point is for you to aggravate and annoy the person you’re calling. Not yourself. This isn’t a prank call anymore. This is sort of like a reverse prank call. A riposte prank call if you will.
The Prankster 4
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hi.”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: "I would like to buy <prooooodduuuccct>.”
Oh, a new approach. It only took him, let’s see, 20 minutes to think of one. Very well, I shall play along. For the moment.
Me: “I’m afraid you must be a member to use our services. If you like I could send you the required applications."
SC: “No. I don’t want that. I just want <prooooduuuucct>.”
Me: “That’s the only way to obtain it I’m afraid.”
sC: “Well, I’m sorry but you…..just lost someone that…uh....uhhhhh…is VERY important! <click>”
I’m sure I did. How was that even a prank call? What was the point of it? What precisely were you expecting me to say or trying to accomplish? Trying to make me feel bad because I just missed out on a really important customer? One so important he shops for <product> at 4am? Right. You know, the whole point of prank calling is the prank. Without the prank it’s pointless calling. Unless the prank is something along the lines of “Ha ha I just wasted 30 seconds of both our lives!” in which case your bar for what constitutes humour is even lower than I first anticipated. Beneath even Mencia, and that’s saying something.
Argh
It’s ok, if somewhat annoying, if you want to play a little tune on the number pad while you’re waiting on hold. But please have the sense to stop your performance when I do pick up the line. I cannot get a word in edge wise through the world’s most obnoxious rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Seriously?
Me: “Good morning, <company that has coffee in its name because it installs and services related equipment for restaurants. So this is their afterhours emergency service line.>”
SC: “Yeah, do you know if Starbucks is open today?”
....What? No. Why don’t you call Starbucks?
Me: “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, sorry.”
SC: “Do you know if any coffee place is open today?!”
COME ON MAN~! I NEED MY FIX. C’mon! Tell me! I’m getting the shakes jus sittin’ here. I gotta know, man! C’mon baby, DADDY NEEDS HIS LAVA JAVA.
But, but, but!
SC: “Yeah, we’d like to rebook our flight.”
Me: “I’m afraid we don’t do flight bookings, this line is for hotel reservations only.”
SC: “But they gave us this number!”
Me: “I’m not sure why they did, but I’m afraid we only book hotels.”
SC: “Really? But this the number they gaaaaave us!”
Oh, well, in that case. Just give me a moment to spontaneously change industries and I’ll be right with you! Seriously though, I understand. This is the number They™ gave you. But They™ are mistaken. Continuing to protest that They™ gave you this number will in no way alter the services I provide. I do not normally do only hotel bookings than suddenly provide flight bookings when someone calls and mentions that They™ sent them our way. I do not even know who They™ are. But I would urge you to go back and tell Them™ that They™ made a grievous error.
Shut it.
Me: “I’m afraid I’m not showing any available hotels there. One moment, let me put you through to our customer service desk and they’ll see if they can find something for you. Alright?”
SC: “Alright, yeah. Because we were on our way to Montreal and we just had a stop over in Calgary but we missed our connector flight so now we’re-“
If I may interrupt your misguided tirade: I said “Let me put you through to our customer service desk” not “Let me sit here and endure the entire 20 minute story of your misfortune beginning with 6am this morning when you accidentally dropped your tooth brush in the toilet after the cat startled you because he was running from the dog which was chasing him away from his food dish after your wife put some doggy treats out because you got up early for your flight and usually the dog doesn’t get treats till 9am but you had to get up at 6am so you put them out early but the cat was miffed because she didn’t put out cat treats yet so it went for the doggy treats and the dog chased him off into the bath room so you dropped your tooth brush in the toilet so you had to use your wife’s but that made you late packing your luggage as you tried to rush to the airport to catch the flight which was late coming into Calgary because of some sort of runway delay so you missed your connector and your wife was really cranky than it took forever to get your luggage so you went up to the Air Canada desk and they have you this little slip with our number on it so you waited in line for 20 minutes at the payphone to get a chance to call us than you got through to us and now we don’t have any rooms.”
Does that about sum it up? Yes? Ok, good. Now shut up and let me transfer you to our service desk.
Cthuluisk
My trip here was rife with outright terror. When I boarded the Skytrain I found myself a quiet corner to burrow into and hoped to pass the intervening minutes undisturbed. I was not so lucky. For by Metrotown a creature had boarded that I can only really describe as a lumberjack troll. He certainly had the proper lumberjack attire. Flannel, work boots, more flannel, toque, additional flannel, work belt, yet more flannel. But buried beneath these plaid folds was some sort of primitive sea creature I’d not yet witnessed in this city. A sort of pale, gaunt creature that despite its thin frame still somehow managed to have a beer gut. Like a beach ball taped to a coat rack. At first I was mildly alarmed as it sat down in front of me, but it passed out in a drunken stupor within moments. Head against the Skytrain window. Mouth ajar. Small strand of drool sparkling in its reflection in the window. Believing myself safe….I let my guard down. A tragic mistaken.
Some time later I was roused when the beast itself suddenly startled awake and made a noise sort of like “garabahg-huh!?”. As if surprised he had lapsed into unconsciousness to begin with. Than came a great cacophony if noise. Of unwrapping. As the creature struggled to free something from within several layers of plastic and paper. That’s when it hit me: The aroma.
I do not know what was in this wrapper. Nor how anyone could feed on it so readily ( and loudly ) as the beast was doing so. But it burned my sinuses and watered the eyes of all within 10 feet. I saw people wincing in surprise as it washed over them like the Mist. Struggled as I might, my brain just could not quite identified the smell. I knew that onions were involved somehow. Deeply involved. But simple onions could not account the sheer impact of this scent. It was almost….Cthuluisk. As if someone had tossed these onions through some sort of rift into the realms of the Elder Gods, and they had tossed them back. Apparently after using them as a suppository for a fortnight.
But this guy was feeding on them ravenously like they were a cure for cancer. With his mouth wide open so every bit of snarfing, chewing, swallowing and belching was amplified for the enjoyment of all within the Skytrain car. Whatever dark object had nestled within that wrapper barely survived a minute and a half in the face of its consumer. After which he crumbled up the wrappings and shoved them back in his backpack. Me ( and everything else with a nose ) breathed a sigh of relief. It was once again safe to draw air through our nasal cavities.
With the danger past, I began to relax once again. Till I was suddenly yet again aghast as I heard a horrific noise that was halfway between a belch and regurgitation. Alarmed, I looked up….and he was chewing again. I watched, stunned, as he swallowed….than made the horrible belchysqargly noise again…and chewed again. Oh my fucking god. He’s chewing it twice. Like a cow. Gah! What in the name of all creation are you doing?! Even trolls have some manner of dignity and class.
Of course it got off at Broadway. The port of call for all things horrific and obscene in this city.
annnnd rest.
If she didn't have the catalog, where did she get the number to call to order the jacket? Does she have you on speed dial?
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