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Atonement
I've been off sick from work half this week, so my pickings are slim I'm afraid. Granted I was severely punished for my transgressions upon my return.
Overriding Lusts
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “xxxx.”
I assume that is the ID number of the object you desire. However, it is not the question I asked of you. I realize that your desire or compulsion for this object may be overwhelming strong. But you must fight it. You must not give in to your questionable lusts. If only for 60 seconds so that I may glean some identifying information.
Me: “..pardon?”
SC: “Uh….."
Me: “What’s your phone number please?”
SC: “xxx-xxx-xxxx”
Me:“Do you have a box number?”
SC: “xxxx”
You must be strong! Do not let it consume you! Resist!
Me: “No, what is your box number please?”
SC: “Box xxx.”
Me: “Postal code please?”
SC: “<Accursed town in Nunavut>”
Well fuck me in the cow pouch, Nunavut? I never would have guessed.
Me: Alright, but what is the postal code please?”
SC: “Ooooh. xxxx.”
My lord, let it go already. What could possibly be so desirable as to overcome your very mind, simple as it is, in such a fashion? We can’t possibly sell anything of such a magnitude. I shall look into this xxxx you speak of so that I may impartially assess its worth. Let’s see…….allllright it’s a pair of pants. You crave pants so much that you cannot coherently answer simple questions. Right-o.
Me: “No, what is your postal code please?”
SC: “uuuuuuhhh……….......uh.....um......can I call back?”
Abort! Abort!
Hot Tips
SC: “Remember before the British army invaded North America, it use to be one country. That was the British policy, divide and conquer. They gave the Indian tribes all these different names and divided them. It’s the United States not the Divided States.”
Yes, a very astute observation. You must be particularly proud of that one. Why, it even sort of rhymes. Bravo. Let us fondly remember the great Native American supercountry that once encompassed the entire continent and the downfall of its mighty empire after the British arrived and brutally assigned them labels.
Hot Tips
( He was unrelenting Friday night. >< )
SC: "I just figured out the Book of Revelations.”
Oh good, and after unraveling this book of mysteries your first impulse was to share the discovery with me. Thank you. I’m flattered and mildly alarmed.
SC: “I calculated the number of the beast. It’s 6348.”
No, I’m pretty sure it’s suppose to be it’s 666.
SC: “and what’s 6348?”
It’s a Roxy tanktop. Which, by the way, you’re calling entirely the wrong line if that’s what you’re after. But on the upside, it is on clearance.
SC: “The 24 hour clock. 18:38 or 6:38pm. What happened in 1838? That’s the year Jack the Ripper was brought into the royal family.”
Sometimes I wonder whether or not you're actually insane or if you just call up and read me synopsis of Dan Brown novels.
Hot Tips
SC: “You know that Prince Charle’s dad was a man, not a king, so he’s Prince Charles Manson-“
Me: “Oh, this one’s a rerun.”
SC: “Huh?”
Call me when the new season starts, would you?
Hot....Tips
“You have to be Christian to get into Heaven right so it’s better to be a cool Christian than an uncool Christian. Like you, you're Jesus’s KGB, you’re a spy for GOD, right?”
.......I have been called many, many things in my years on this shift. Some strange. Some insulting. But never anything quite as odd as that. Congratulations. I shall mail you one of the expired cookies from the top of our vending machine as a prize for the new level of bizzarity you have introduced into my life.
The Marketing Dept Caught On
I see there is a new catalog. And despite most of the products being identical to the last catalog and having already ordered hundreds of dollars worth from the last catalog this did not stop the frigid northern wastes from rushing en mass to order from the new catalog. It seems they cannot resist this compulsion, regardless of how illogical is. Thus they hammered at my gates this evening, lusting for the exact same products that were in the old catalog but were not repackaged in the new, shinier catalog.
So fervent was this mass of pants hounds that I had to find this catalog myself within our walls, and see if I could figure out exactly what was so compelling about it to place it above all previous catalogs. Sadly, the answer was rather swift. I opened the catalog to the very first page and there was not one, not two, not three, but four pink camo items just on the first page alone.
No wonder they can’t resist. Opening the first page must have been like opening the Ark of the Covenant. Only, sadly, without the whole terrible face flesh melting thing.
From The Mouth of Fools
Sigh, they’re still out there. The yahoos. Despite my best effort I always seem to end up on the same Skytrain as them. Or perhaps they are merely so numerous that they are upon every Skytrain car. So any hopes of avoidance or escape are but wishful fallacies. I try to tune them out, but every now and then there’s an exchange just so strikingly tardlicious it penetrates even my mental fortress of solitude. Such as this one:
“Haha, dude what’s with that haircut?”
“Yeah, well, your GIRLFRIEND'S going to be cuttin’ it by the end of the night!”
“…….”
“…….”
“……what?”
Which was round about my reaction too to be honest. Both of them just sat there and stared at each other for a while in confusion. With the Insulted looking back at the Insulter, trying to figure out if he should be insulted but unable to comprehend exactly how. While the Insulter sat there trying to figure out if he had achieved victory or defeat.
Sigh.
SC: “I see the website says there's a sale on for 30-50% off. Is the sales price on TOP of the sales prices listed?”
Gah, this…question, again. I use to dismiss this as a passing oddity of the truly foolish. But it occurs with an unsettling frequency. Who are these people that go to the website, read “Everything on sale”, go to the product page read “On Sale Price” next to the regular price and then seriously become confused over whether that’s the On Sale Price or the On Sale On Sale Price. It’s already 50% off a $500 item and you want it docked another 50% on top of that? So you can get it for a mere $125? Last I checked the url was ClientName.com not JustBendMeOverTheCounterAndTakeIt.com
I just can’t comprehend this question. The On Sale Price is in blazing red text right above the banner in blazing red text saying everything is on sale. How can you possibly have a disconnect there? I mean, sure, the first few times this happened it was kind of interesting watching the exact point where wishful thinking became outright stupidity. But it’s getting old now. Stop calling.
Tax Dollars At Work
( This is pretty much the highest level emergency line I have to be honest. It is for disasters. I dread seeing this line appear. )
Me: "Good evening, <client> emergency line."
SC: “Yes, I’m trying to find driving directions. I have to get out to a place tomorrow for a job.”
Ok. And? I am not yet seeing where I fit into the grand scheme of things here. You don't seem to quite grasp the severity of this line. This number is typically reserved for when the earth opens up beneath us and swallows a school bus full of orphans.
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t provide driving directions.”
SC: “Well, I’ve tried Map Quest and everything else. Nothing’s working. I’m kind of desperate right now.”
Yes, I can tell. However, the urgency of your situation does not alter the fact that I do not have, nor can I provide you with driving directions. Call me after Gaea eats a bus.
Me: “I’m afraid this is ran emergency line only, so I don’t have driving directions.”
SC: “Do you know anywhere that does?”
Me: “No off the top of my head, no, sorry.”
SC: “Well this like a job that like if I’m not there I lose my job!! This is crazy!!”
Say it with me kids: A lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine. Your situation is most unfortunate, but it does not alter reality and magically provide me with a mental road map of the province. Even if I was inclined to make the attempt, if you can’t find it on Map Quest than I’m not going to find it on Map Quest and Map Quest is the only possible information source I have access too from here.
SC: “Do you have the number for the buses so I could call them so I could talk to someone there that could tell me?!”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t, sorry.”
SC: “Well I’ve been going through the phone book here and this is the only line I’ve been able to reach!”
Ok, so you have the phone book there and you’re asking me for a phone number? I can’t help but feel you’re not giving this 100%.
SC: “There’s no way I can get directions anywhere, anyhow?”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have driving directions, this is an emergency line only.”
I’m not sure how many times I’ve repeated this so far, but I think one or two more and it officially qualifies as a Buddhist mantra.
SC: “Well great, thanks! Why the FUCK do I pay taxes than?! <click>”
Ah, a statement so succulently slack witted that I feel compelled to dissect it down to its very component pieces. It’s sub-atomic tardicles if you will. You wish to know why you are paying taxes. An outburst most common when a government or municipal agency or department fails to adequately provide its stated services. The critical flaw in your frothing exclamation however is that providing you driving directions at midnight on a Sunday is not a provided service. In fact, I am sitting here providing all the government services currently assigned to me at adequate to downright exceptional levels ranging from impressively stellar to fresh baked Win muffins from Awesometown on Christmas morning. Therefore your tax dollars are not only at work, but being harnessed to provide all required services through me, their avatar.
So I guess what I’m really trying to say here is that you’re a fucking idiot and good luck with that job.
Please Go Away
SC: “See it’s all numerology you know? There are xxxx prizes and my phone number ends in xxxx.”
…ok stop. It is 4 in the morning. Don’t you dare invoke numerology on me at 4am on a Sunday morning. I object. Numerology is a level of gambling crazy I can only accept by 1am on a Friday at the very latest. After that no, you’ll have to wait till next week or back the crazy train up a bit to Astrology or perhaps dowsing at the most.
SC: “So I have a pretty good chance don’t you think?”
Oh yes, clearly it is a sign from God. Now how many tickets would you like to bet on his divine favour?
annnnd rest.
Overriding Lusts
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “xxxx.”
I assume that is the ID number of the object you desire. However, it is not the question I asked of you. I realize that your desire or compulsion for this object may be overwhelming strong. But you must fight it. You must not give in to your questionable lusts. If only for 60 seconds so that I may glean some identifying information.
Me: “..pardon?”
SC: “Uh….."
Me: “What’s your phone number please?”
SC: “xxx-xxx-xxxx”
Me:“Do you have a box number?”
SC: “xxxx”
You must be strong! Do not let it consume you! Resist!
Me: “No, what is your box number please?”
SC: “Box xxx.”
Me: “Postal code please?”
SC: “<Accursed town in Nunavut>”
Well fuck me in the cow pouch, Nunavut? I never would have guessed.
Me: Alright, but what is the postal code please?”
SC: “Ooooh. xxxx.”
My lord, let it go already. What could possibly be so desirable as to overcome your very mind, simple as it is, in such a fashion? We can’t possibly sell anything of such a magnitude. I shall look into this xxxx you speak of so that I may impartially assess its worth. Let’s see…….allllright it’s a pair of pants. You crave pants so much that you cannot coherently answer simple questions. Right-o.
Me: “No, what is your postal code please?”
SC: “uuuuuuhhh……….......uh.....um......can I call back?”
Abort! Abort!
Hot Tips
SC: “Remember before the British army invaded North America, it use to be one country. That was the British policy, divide and conquer. They gave the Indian tribes all these different names and divided them. It’s the United States not the Divided States.”
Yes, a very astute observation. You must be particularly proud of that one. Why, it even sort of rhymes. Bravo. Let us fondly remember the great Native American supercountry that once encompassed the entire continent and the downfall of its mighty empire after the British arrived and brutally assigned them labels.
Hot Tips
( He was unrelenting Friday night. >< )
SC: "I just figured out the Book of Revelations.”
Oh good, and after unraveling this book of mysteries your first impulse was to share the discovery with me. Thank you. I’m flattered and mildly alarmed.
SC: “I calculated the number of the beast. It’s 6348.”
No, I’m pretty sure it’s suppose to be it’s 666.
SC: “and what’s 6348?”
It’s a Roxy tanktop. Which, by the way, you’re calling entirely the wrong line if that’s what you’re after. But on the upside, it is on clearance.
SC: “The 24 hour clock. 18:38 or 6:38pm. What happened in 1838? That’s the year Jack the Ripper was brought into the royal family.”
Sometimes I wonder whether or not you're actually insane or if you just call up and read me synopsis of Dan Brown novels.
Hot Tips
SC: “You know that Prince Charle’s dad was a man, not a king, so he’s Prince Charles Manson-“
Me: “Oh, this one’s a rerun.”
SC: “Huh?”
Call me when the new season starts, would you?
Hot....Tips
“You have to be Christian to get into Heaven right so it’s better to be a cool Christian than an uncool Christian. Like you, you're Jesus’s KGB, you’re a spy for GOD, right?”
.......I have been called many, many things in my years on this shift. Some strange. Some insulting. But never anything quite as odd as that. Congratulations. I shall mail you one of the expired cookies from the top of our vending machine as a prize for the new level of bizzarity you have introduced into my life.
The Marketing Dept Caught On
I see there is a new catalog. And despite most of the products being identical to the last catalog and having already ordered hundreds of dollars worth from the last catalog this did not stop the frigid northern wastes from rushing en mass to order from the new catalog. It seems they cannot resist this compulsion, regardless of how illogical is. Thus they hammered at my gates this evening, lusting for the exact same products that were in the old catalog but were not repackaged in the new, shinier catalog.
So fervent was this mass of pants hounds that I had to find this catalog myself within our walls, and see if I could figure out exactly what was so compelling about it to place it above all previous catalogs. Sadly, the answer was rather swift. I opened the catalog to the very first page and there was not one, not two, not three, but four pink camo items just on the first page alone.
No wonder they can’t resist. Opening the first page must have been like opening the Ark of the Covenant. Only, sadly, without the whole terrible face flesh melting thing.
From The Mouth of Fools
Sigh, they’re still out there. The yahoos. Despite my best effort I always seem to end up on the same Skytrain as them. Or perhaps they are merely so numerous that they are upon every Skytrain car. So any hopes of avoidance or escape are but wishful fallacies. I try to tune them out, but every now and then there’s an exchange just so strikingly tardlicious it penetrates even my mental fortress of solitude. Such as this one:
“Haha, dude what’s with that haircut?”
“Yeah, well, your GIRLFRIEND'S going to be cuttin’ it by the end of the night!”
“…….”
“…….”
“……what?”
Which was round about my reaction too to be honest. Both of them just sat there and stared at each other for a while in confusion. With the Insulted looking back at the Insulter, trying to figure out if he should be insulted but unable to comprehend exactly how. While the Insulter sat there trying to figure out if he had achieved victory or defeat.
Sigh.
SC: “I see the website says there's a sale on for 30-50% off. Is the sales price on TOP of the sales prices listed?”
Gah, this…question, again. I use to dismiss this as a passing oddity of the truly foolish. But it occurs with an unsettling frequency. Who are these people that go to the website, read “Everything on sale”, go to the product page read “On Sale Price” next to the regular price and then seriously become confused over whether that’s the On Sale Price or the On Sale On Sale Price. It’s already 50% off a $500 item and you want it docked another 50% on top of that? So you can get it for a mere $125? Last I checked the url was ClientName.com not JustBendMeOverTheCounterAndTakeIt.com
I just can’t comprehend this question. The On Sale Price is in blazing red text right above the banner in blazing red text saying everything is on sale. How can you possibly have a disconnect there? I mean, sure, the first few times this happened it was kind of interesting watching the exact point where wishful thinking became outright stupidity. But it’s getting old now. Stop calling.
Tax Dollars At Work
( This is pretty much the highest level emergency line I have to be honest. It is for disasters. I dread seeing this line appear. )
Me: "Good evening, <client> emergency line."
SC: “Yes, I’m trying to find driving directions. I have to get out to a place tomorrow for a job.”
Ok. And? I am not yet seeing where I fit into the grand scheme of things here. You don't seem to quite grasp the severity of this line. This number is typically reserved for when the earth opens up beneath us and swallows a school bus full of orphans.
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t provide driving directions.”
SC: “Well, I’ve tried Map Quest and everything else. Nothing’s working. I’m kind of desperate right now.”
Yes, I can tell. However, the urgency of your situation does not alter the fact that I do not have, nor can I provide you with driving directions. Call me after Gaea eats a bus.
Me: “I’m afraid this is ran emergency line only, so I don’t have driving directions.”
SC: “Do you know anywhere that does?”
Me: “No off the top of my head, no, sorry.”
SC: “Well this like a job that like if I’m not there I lose my job!! This is crazy!!”
Say it with me kids: A lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine. Your situation is most unfortunate, but it does not alter reality and magically provide me with a mental road map of the province. Even if I was inclined to make the attempt, if you can’t find it on Map Quest than I’m not going to find it on Map Quest and Map Quest is the only possible information source I have access too from here.
SC: “Do you have the number for the buses so I could call them so I could talk to someone there that could tell me?!”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t, sorry.”
SC: “Well I’ve been going through the phone book here and this is the only line I’ve been able to reach!”
Ok, so you have the phone book there and you’re asking me for a phone number? I can’t help but feel you’re not giving this 100%.
SC: “There’s no way I can get directions anywhere, anyhow?”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have driving directions, this is an emergency line only.”
I’m not sure how many times I’ve repeated this so far, but I think one or two more and it officially qualifies as a Buddhist mantra.
SC: “Well great, thanks! Why the FUCK do I pay taxes than?! <click>”
Ah, a statement so succulently slack witted that I feel compelled to dissect it down to its very component pieces. It’s sub-atomic tardicles if you will. You wish to know why you are paying taxes. An outburst most common when a government or municipal agency or department fails to adequately provide its stated services. The critical flaw in your frothing exclamation however is that providing you driving directions at midnight on a Sunday is not a provided service. In fact, I am sitting here providing all the government services currently assigned to me at adequate to downright exceptional levels ranging from impressively stellar to fresh baked Win muffins from Awesometown on Christmas morning. Therefore your tax dollars are not only at work, but being harnessed to provide all required services through me, their avatar.
So I guess what I’m really trying to say here is that you’re a fucking idiot and good luck with that job.
Please Go Away
SC: “See it’s all numerology you know? There are xxxx prizes and my phone number ends in xxxx.”
…ok stop. It is 4 in the morning. Don’t you dare invoke numerology on me at 4am on a Sunday morning. I object. Numerology is a level of gambling crazy I can only accept by 1am on a Friday at the very latest. After that no, you’ll have to wait till next week or back the crazy train up a bit to Astrology or perhaps dowsing at the most.
SC: “So I have a pretty good chance don’t you think?”
Oh yes, clearly it is a sign from God. Now how many tickets would you like to bet on his divine favour?
annnnd rest.
Hilarity, thy name is Hot Tips.
I bet if you had typed in the same address (assuming it was the correct address to begin with) you would have found it in the few moments it took your computer to load the screen.
What rank amateurs! The line here is obviously: "Yeah, well your MOM's going to be cuttin' it by the end of the night!"
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