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yes it goes on and on my friends....
So somebody on the salesfloor goes on break and I have to help with customer service and outside calls. Goodie. Oh wait, is that a page for furniture I hear? I'll just go grab that. Furniture is my particular area of expertise; how bad can this be...
Hello, furniture department, how can I help you today?
"Yeah!? I spoke to somebody about an armoire, was that you I talked to earlier? (No, it wasn't.) It's for clothes. It's number XXXXXXX, Orchard Hills collection (not the real name of the collection), spiced pine finish. Do you have it?"
I go look, and confirm we have three of the armoires in stock. I tell this to the caller, who's an elderly lady, apparently a shut-in. Oh, and spellcheck, "armoire" is a real word. Quit flagging it and confusing me kthnxbai.
"Really? That's the Orchard Hills Armoire, Spiced Pine finish, number XXXXXXX. How much is it?"
I put her on hold and look up the price.
"Ah ha, and that's for the Orchard Hills Armoire, (say it with me!) number XXXXXX, Spiced Pine finish. (Very good!)" And it's for clothes, right? How long can you hold it for? I get the floor model right? I don't? I get an unassembled one? Oh no, I can't lift something like that. I lost my husband last year, you may have read about him, he did that thing that one time...."
Oh yeah, right. I know all about that. Continue, as I strangle myself with the phone cord in an attempt to meet your husband personally...
"...and I can't take it. How long do you hold things for? Only until the store closes? That's no good. I guess I could have my nephew come get it. He works at the aluminum foundry. He isn't home yet. Maybe around suppertime....
"...so I called another store in Green Bay to find this armoire. Because they have the same one. Orchard Hills collection, number XXXXXX, spiced pine finish. The woman there was nice but they didn't have it. So I called another store up there and got some guy. He was a real jerk! He has no business working in a store like that! (Watch it lady, I resemble that remark!)"
"...so yeah, my neighbor can come get it. Yes, I will get a hold of him and call you back. Thank you for telling me other people are trying to find you. I know I talk too much. It's a habit I have. My husband always said I talked too much. Back in the old days everybody talked and talked. For Christmas dinner we'd always have turkey, which in those days was called a walking bird. And then we'd sit down to watch football, which in those days was called baseball...."
Imagine all of the above in the hoarsest, loudest, old-person voice you can, heard through a pretty bad and old telephone receiver, in a backroom where co-workers are going out of their way to make noise as they see me on the phone with this old crone, and trying not to laugh too hard as I pantomime stabbing this woman in the face through the phone, hanging myself, shooting myself, banging my head against the wall, and so forth.
Good thing people can't see what you're doing over the phone.
So somebody on the salesfloor goes on break and I have to help with customer service and outside calls. Goodie. Oh wait, is that a page for furniture I hear? I'll just go grab that. Furniture is my particular area of expertise; how bad can this be...
Hello, furniture department, how can I help you today?
"Yeah!? I spoke to somebody about an armoire, was that you I talked to earlier? (No, it wasn't.) It's for clothes. It's number XXXXXXX, Orchard Hills collection (not the real name of the collection), spiced pine finish. Do you have it?"
I go look, and confirm we have three of the armoires in stock. I tell this to the caller, who's an elderly lady, apparently a shut-in. Oh, and spellcheck, "armoire" is a real word. Quit flagging it and confusing me kthnxbai.
"Really? That's the Orchard Hills Armoire, Spiced Pine finish, number XXXXXXX. How much is it?"
I put her on hold and look up the price.
"Ah ha, and that's for the Orchard Hills Armoire, (say it with me!) number XXXXXX, Spiced Pine finish. (Very good!)" And it's for clothes, right? How long can you hold it for? I get the floor model right? I don't? I get an unassembled one? Oh no, I can't lift something like that. I lost my husband last year, you may have read about him, he did that thing that one time...."
Oh yeah, right. I know all about that. Continue, as I strangle myself with the phone cord in an attempt to meet your husband personally...
"...and I can't take it. How long do you hold things for? Only until the store closes? That's no good. I guess I could have my nephew come get it. He works at the aluminum foundry. He isn't home yet. Maybe around suppertime....
*SNIP several minutes of additional information*
"...so I called another store in Green Bay to find this armoire. Because they have the same one. Orchard Hills collection, number XXXXXX, spiced pine finish. The woman there was nice but they didn't have it. So I called another store up there and got some guy. He was a real jerk! He has no business working in a store like that! (Watch it lady, I resemble that remark!)"
*SNIP some more information.*
"...so yeah, my neighbor can come get it. Yes, I will get a hold of him and call you back. Thank you for telling me other people are trying to find you. I know I talk too much. It's a habit I have. My husband always said I talked too much. Back in the old days everybody talked and talked. For Christmas dinner we'd always have turkey, which in those days was called a walking bird. And then we'd sit down to watch football, which in those days was called baseball...."
Imagine all of the above in the hoarsest, loudest, old-person voice you can, heard through a pretty bad and old telephone receiver, in a backroom where co-workers are going out of their way to make noise as they see me on the phone with this old crone, and trying not to laugh too hard as I pantomime stabbing this woman in the face through the phone, hanging myself, shooting myself, banging my head against the wall, and so forth.
Good thing people can't see what you're doing over the phone.
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