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Wherein men pleasure themselves to my image
That's it. I give up. You win, universe.
Pizza Hut: Delivery with a Smile
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Yeah, it's Pizza Hut, I’m here making a delivery.”
Me: “I think you may have the wrong number.”
SC: “No, I’m just making a delivery. Is this <company that ain't me> at <address that ain't me>?”
Me: “No, you have the wrong number. This is <company> at <address>”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: "Sorry?”
SC: “You know what, fuck it, if you’re going to give me that attitude. You can just get fired yourself, you fucking asshole. Go fuck yourself. Your mother too.”
…..right, I’m going to venture out on an admittedly thick limb here and say you don’t get a lot of tips, do you?
But....that's...
SC: “How are the sleeves measured on your coats?”
Me: “Sleeves are measured from the centre of the back-“
SC: “You’re just reading off from your sizing guide.”
….yes, yes I am. Do you know why? Because it has the answer. I don’t know why you have this strange mistrust of the sizing guide. It tells you exactly how the sleeves are measured. Which is your question is it not? So where lays the problem here? Did the Sizing Guide beat you up in high school? Did it steal your girlfriend? Did it cheat on you with it’s secretary? What’s going on here? If you have a personal problem with the sizing guide maybe you should be talking to it directly. I can’t help you two work this out. You’re going to have to sit down and talk it out yourselves. If you really can’t resolve this matter might I suggest couple’s therapy?
With Apologies to Alaska
I realize this line is technically open 24 hours but it still won’t stop me from thinking of you as a sad, lonely man, desperate for human companionship if you call me about siding for your house at 2am. There is absolutely no reason for you to be calling around for home renovations at this hour. None. New siding in a variety of designer styles and colours is not critically important in any way shape or form at this time of night. I do acknowledge that you live in Alaska, and as call centre history has established the north lands are a lonely, boring place where even things as simple as hats and pants induce levels of disturbing excitement.
However, you live in Anchorage. Anchorage! That is like the central hub of all civilization in the north ( Such as it is ). It is the shining beacon of humanity in a dark, frigid expanse where nature itself would love nothing else then to drag you off into the night in the jaws of a pack of hungry wolves. Only the massive stone walls of Fortress Anchorage protect your fragile life from the roving beasts and witches outside. Yet here you are, concerned about your siding? You fool!
Your life is in danger with each passing moment. You live under the constant threat of death, and bears, and death by bears. Yet you’re worried your siding isn’t a stylish enough? Do you not realize you live in the arctic Shangra La and every precious second your life continues to flicker in the dark up there is due solely to the mighty arctic castle within which you dwell? My god man, what are you thinking? You could die at any moment. Sure the mighty gates keep the wolves and bears out. For now. But what if they fail? What then? What then?
Do you really think new faux slate siding is going to save you from bears, cougars, murlocks, nazghoul, wyverns and whatever the fuck else is up there? I think not! They’ll peel that siding off like the freshness seal on a pudding pop. Forgot this foolishly! You need to get off the phone right this moment and go back to cowing under your bed, clutching a harpoon and trying to stay awake till the sun once again rises and offers blessed sanctuary.
If it ever rises again.
O....kay...
SC: “I tried to download you yesterday but there was just a bunch of little people running around everywhere.”
Hold that thought while I back away slowly without breaking eye contact and try to find something sharp.
God Dammit, Dude, What the Hell?!
There are certain defining moments in a CSR’s career which only come ( no pun intended ) about ( hopefully ) once every few years. Moments where so much damage is done to your psyche that the memory will haunt you for the next few years to come. Usually just long enough for you to begin to forget the last time it happened before it happens again. I have a list of such moments already burned into my mind, and now I must add another one.
But GK, you say, surely no call could possibly cause that sort of damage. Then I would say you were speaking like someone who had never answered a phone and heard another man furiously pleasuring himself in the dead of night. Then you would recoil in horror and stop talking to me. At which point I would elaborate that when he finally noticed someone was on the line he seemed surprised to hear my voice and then asked if I was “available” before realizing perhaps he had the wrong number. Then you would leave the room in disgust because I keep going into horrible detail and never speak to me again for several days.
I can now testify for the record that "fap" is indeed an accurate representation of the sounds involved.
Also, because I'm a complete bastard, I instructed my coworker to pull the call on our call logger and listen to it without giving him any real warning as to its contents.
Oh Fuck Off
SC: “Yeah, my oven timer is going off and I don’t know how to turn it off.”
You called me at this hour because you can’t figure out the complex operation of your oven timer? I should hang up you based on principle alone. However, I am forbidden from such actions regardless of how far beneath my Stupidity Threshold a caller ranks in at ( and if I was permitted to do so my call traffic would likely be halved ). So I suppose I am stuck with you and your most questionable problem. If you wish I can leave a non-urgent message for you for the office, detailing the complex dilemma that lays before you and desperately requesting assisting from someone qualified to handle the intricacies of a glorified alarm clock. I’m sure they’ll dispatch a certified oven timer technician to your location as soon as is humanly possible.
Try not to hurt yourself opening the door when they arrive. Them knobs are tricky things.
Ever Vigilant
My nocturnal watch over <new client>'s <server monitoring software> has been completely uneventful since its inception. Each night I peer into the darkness for any sign of trouble or advancing foe, and each night all is quiet. But I cannot rest! My eyes must be vigilant. You never know what could happen or what enemies could encroach upon us in the night. All may be quiet now and indeed, it may be quiet for years to come still. But one night, one night my time may come and I may be called upon to act.
On that dark and bitter eve I shall fly from my seat and run towards the stairwell to the roof access. Emerging outside, I shall fight the cold wind and rain to make my way to the highest point of the office and I shall light the beacon fire and call for Rohan’s aid!
Just...Put It Down
( Monkey boy here is trying to install blinds and for some reason I have to help him. Don't ask. Our clients ask bizzarre things of us sometimes. )
SC: “I bought this yesterday an’ I’ve been workin’ on it alllll night. My neighbours think I’m stupid.”
Considering you’ve measured everything wrong and cut the blinds too short, “don’t know where any of the screws go”, can’t figure out how to attach “the piece that looks like a light switch”, “Don’t know how any of this is suppose to fit together” and are admittedly following the Spanish instructions even though you don’t speak Spanish and have the English instructions too.......I’m inclined to agree with them. Wholeheartedly. In fact it may be for the best if you just put everything down right now and backed away slowly. Go find yourself a garbage bag, some oven mitts and a helmet, then come back and put everything in the bag, take it down to the curb, then get back inside and forget you ever saw them at the store.
At this point it may be the only way to save your life.
Sigh.
Me: "Good evening, <company> tech support"
SC: “Yeah, can I order a pizza?”
Me: “I’m afraid you have the wrong number”
SC: “Oh, uh, where is this?”
Me: “This is <company> tech support.”
SC: “Oh, so can I order?”
Me: “......We don’t deliver pizza.”
SC: “How come?”
There’s no way to answer that question without verbally berating you at length or insulting what little intelligence you evidently have. Both of which would likely get me fired regardless of how justified the lashing would be. However, I’m certainly not going to sit here and attempt to explain to you that “Tech Support” implies that the company does just the: Tech Support. Had I answered the phone with “Tech Support, Pizza and Hot Wings” then you might have a case to support this inquiry. But as I did not offer you delicious Italian pie nor even at the very least delightfully flavoured chicken arms, then I can only conclude that you're an idiot and silently pray you have an unfortunate run in with our city's fine mass transit system.
STOP IT, JESUS LORD
Every time I had to call <client> this evening, he has told me “Hang on a moment” and then undergone some sort of amazingly labourious and questionable task to "find a pen" that involves heavy breathing, grunting and panting directly into the receiver for several minutes with a grandiose exhalation of joy at the end. I do not know what he is doing during this interval. I do not even want to hazard a guess because I know what it sounds like he's doing. But it happens every time I call him. Even if I just spoke with him moments ago, if I call again, I get the protracted heavy breathing again. All I can do in the meantime is sit here in horribly awkward silence while he grunts and pants into the phone like a Saint Bernard on the third leg of the Amazing Race.
For God sakes, what is going on out there? Is it too much to ask for people to not call me when they're holding their penis?
Gah!
Pizza Hut: Delivery with a Smile
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Yeah, it's Pizza Hut, I’m here making a delivery.”
Me: “I think you may have the wrong number.”
SC: “No, I’m just making a delivery. Is this <company that ain't me> at <address that ain't me>?”
Me: “No, you have the wrong number. This is <company> at <address>”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: "Sorry?”
SC: “You know what, fuck it, if you’re going to give me that attitude. You can just get fired yourself, you fucking asshole. Go fuck yourself. Your mother too.”
…..right, I’m going to venture out on an admittedly thick limb here and say you don’t get a lot of tips, do you?
But....that's...
SC: “How are the sleeves measured on your coats?”
Me: “Sleeves are measured from the centre of the back-“
SC: “You’re just reading off from your sizing guide.”
….yes, yes I am. Do you know why? Because it has the answer. I don’t know why you have this strange mistrust of the sizing guide. It tells you exactly how the sleeves are measured. Which is your question is it not? So where lays the problem here? Did the Sizing Guide beat you up in high school? Did it steal your girlfriend? Did it cheat on you with it’s secretary? What’s going on here? If you have a personal problem with the sizing guide maybe you should be talking to it directly. I can’t help you two work this out. You’re going to have to sit down and talk it out yourselves. If you really can’t resolve this matter might I suggest couple’s therapy?
With Apologies to Alaska
I realize this line is technically open 24 hours but it still won’t stop me from thinking of you as a sad, lonely man, desperate for human companionship if you call me about siding for your house at 2am. There is absolutely no reason for you to be calling around for home renovations at this hour. None. New siding in a variety of designer styles and colours is not critically important in any way shape or form at this time of night. I do acknowledge that you live in Alaska, and as call centre history has established the north lands are a lonely, boring place where even things as simple as hats and pants induce levels of disturbing excitement.
However, you live in Anchorage. Anchorage! That is like the central hub of all civilization in the north ( Such as it is ). It is the shining beacon of humanity in a dark, frigid expanse where nature itself would love nothing else then to drag you off into the night in the jaws of a pack of hungry wolves. Only the massive stone walls of Fortress Anchorage protect your fragile life from the roving beasts and witches outside. Yet here you are, concerned about your siding? You fool!
Your life is in danger with each passing moment. You live under the constant threat of death, and bears, and death by bears. Yet you’re worried your siding isn’t a stylish enough? Do you not realize you live in the arctic Shangra La and every precious second your life continues to flicker in the dark up there is due solely to the mighty arctic castle within which you dwell? My god man, what are you thinking? You could die at any moment. Sure the mighty gates keep the wolves and bears out. For now. But what if they fail? What then? What then?
Do you really think new faux slate siding is going to save you from bears, cougars, murlocks, nazghoul, wyverns and whatever the fuck else is up there? I think not! They’ll peel that siding off like the freshness seal on a pudding pop. Forgot this foolishly! You need to get off the phone right this moment and go back to cowing under your bed, clutching a harpoon and trying to stay awake till the sun once again rises and offers blessed sanctuary.
If it ever rises again.
O....kay...
SC: “I tried to download you yesterday but there was just a bunch of little people running around everywhere.”
Hold that thought while I back away slowly without breaking eye contact and try to find something sharp.
God Dammit, Dude, What the Hell?!
There are certain defining moments in a CSR’s career which only come ( no pun intended ) about ( hopefully ) once every few years. Moments where so much damage is done to your psyche that the memory will haunt you for the next few years to come. Usually just long enough for you to begin to forget the last time it happened before it happens again. I have a list of such moments already burned into my mind, and now I must add another one.
But GK, you say, surely no call could possibly cause that sort of damage. Then I would say you were speaking like someone who had never answered a phone and heard another man furiously pleasuring himself in the dead of night. Then you would recoil in horror and stop talking to me. At which point I would elaborate that when he finally noticed someone was on the line he seemed surprised to hear my voice and then asked if I was “available” before realizing perhaps he had the wrong number. Then you would leave the room in disgust because I keep going into horrible detail and never speak to me again for several days.
I can now testify for the record that "fap" is indeed an accurate representation of the sounds involved.
Also, because I'm a complete bastard, I instructed my coworker to pull the call on our call logger and listen to it without giving him any real warning as to its contents.
Oh Fuck Off
SC: “Yeah, my oven timer is going off and I don’t know how to turn it off.”
You called me at this hour because you can’t figure out the complex operation of your oven timer? I should hang up you based on principle alone. However, I am forbidden from such actions regardless of how far beneath my Stupidity Threshold a caller ranks in at ( and if I was permitted to do so my call traffic would likely be halved ). So I suppose I am stuck with you and your most questionable problem. If you wish I can leave a non-urgent message for you for the office, detailing the complex dilemma that lays before you and desperately requesting assisting from someone qualified to handle the intricacies of a glorified alarm clock. I’m sure they’ll dispatch a certified oven timer technician to your location as soon as is humanly possible.
Try not to hurt yourself opening the door when they arrive. Them knobs are tricky things.
Ever Vigilant
My nocturnal watch over <new client>'s <server monitoring software> has been completely uneventful since its inception. Each night I peer into the darkness for any sign of trouble or advancing foe, and each night all is quiet. But I cannot rest! My eyes must be vigilant. You never know what could happen or what enemies could encroach upon us in the night. All may be quiet now and indeed, it may be quiet for years to come still. But one night, one night my time may come and I may be called upon to act.
On that dark and bitter eve I shall fly from my seat and run towards the stairwell to the roof access. Emerging outside, I shall fight the cold wind and rain to make my way to the highest point of the office and I shall light the beacon fire and call for Rohan’s aid!
Just...Put It Down
( Monkey boy here is trying to install blinds and for some reason I have to help him. Don't ask. Our clients ask bizzarre things of us sometimes. )
SC: “I bought this yesterday an’ I’ve been workin’ on it alllll night. My neighbours think I’m stupid.”
Considering you’ve measured everything wrong and cut the blinds too short, “don’t know where any of the screws go”, can’t figure out how to attach “the piece that looks like a light switch”, “Don’t know how any of this is suppose to fit together” and are admittedly following the Spanish instructions even though you don’t speak Spanish and have the English instructions too.......I’m inclined to agree with them. Wholeheartedly. In fact it may be for the best if you just put everything down right now and backed away slowly. Go find yourself a garbage bag, some oven mitts and a helmet, then come back and put everything in the bag, take it down to the curb, then get back inside and forget you ever saw them at the store.
At this point it may be the only way to save your life.
Sigh.
Me: "Good evening, <company> tech support"
SC: “Yeah, can I order a pizza?”
Me: “I’m afraid you have the wrong number”
SC: “Oh, uh, where is this?”
Me: “This is <company> tech support.”
SC: “Oh, so can I order?”
Me: “......We don’t deliver pizza.”
SC: “How come?”
There’s no way to answer that question without verbally berating you at length or insulting what little intelligence you evidently have. Both of which would likely get me fired regardless of how justified the lashing would be. However, I’m certainly not going to sit here and attempt to explain to you that “Tech Support” implies that the company does just the: Tech Support. Had I answered the phone with “Tech Support, Pizza and Hot Wings” then you might have a case to support this inquiry. But as I did not offer you delicious Italian pie nor even at the very least delightfully flavoured chicken arms, then I can only conclude that you're an idiot and silently pray you have an unfortunate run in with our city's fine mass transit system.
STOP IT, JESUS LORD
Every time I had to call <client> this evening, he has told me “Hang on a moment” and then undergone some sort of amazingly labourious and questionable task to "find a pen" that involves heavy breathing, grunting and panting directly into the receiver for several minutes with a grandiose exhalation of joy at the end. I do not know what he is doing during this interval. I do not even want to hazard a guess because I know what it sounds like he's doing. But it happens every time I call him. Even if I just spoke with him moments ago, if I call again, I get the protracted heavy breathing again. All I can do in the meantime is sit here in horribly awkward silence while he grunts and pants into the phone like a Saint Bernard on the third leg of the Amazing Race.
For God sakes, what is going on out there? Is it too much to ask for people to not call me when they're holding their penis?
Gah!
I sadly was innocent enough to think phoning a calling center wasn't erotic.
)
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