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All dreams must come to an end. >.>
Craaaaawwwling In My Skin
SC: “I want it in black.”
Me: “I’m afraid it only comes in plum.”
SC: “Only plum?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “(&@$, can you hold on?”
You did indicate you are looking at this item on the Internet. Which is a miracle onto itself I might add. As it means you’re not only operating a computer but have managed to accomplish a task on it. Yet you somehow missed the fact it says Plum, only Plum and nothing but Plum under colours? I find this rather astounding. As it would seem to indicate you managed to navigate your way to the website and find the item you want, yet are completely incapable of reading.
Truly this is a Christmas miracle.
SC: “Um….this other hat………xxxx”
Me: “Alright. Anything else?”
SC: “Is it in black?”
Me: “…Yes”
SC: “I want that black one.”
Yes, much as the previous item only comes in Plum, that item only comes in Black. You may rest assured that the headgear you seek will be totally absent of all colour. Though I am beginning to question exactly what sort of outfit you’re putting together here and why. You seem fervently insistent that every item you order be as black as, er, well I would say “my heart” but science has not yet discovered a technology that can create a wearable fiber to absorb that much light.
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Uhhhhhh………is XL too big for men?”
I believe I have pointed this out many times before but that is another question completely without context and thus I cannot answer it. I do not know what size the “men” are in your region nor the specific man you speak of. Again, I must point out that while the gene pool may be limited in your area thus leading to a uniform shape and appearance, out here in the rest of civilization “men” actually come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. Most even have opposable thumbs. This is what led to the whole concept of varied size clothing to begin with.
SC: “And a black one.”
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “Is it black?”
Me: “…Yes.”
Yes, it’s black. Everything you’ve ordered is black. Rest assured you will be clad head to toe in the darkest fabric we can possible muster. Not a shred of light will be able to escape your fashion choices and all those who gaze upon you will stare only into the Abyss. I commend you from pulling yourself away from updating your MySpace page with Linkin Park song lyrics long enough to call and place an order to begin with.
SC: “How much is it?”
Me: “It comes to $115 total with shipping and tax.”
SC: “And if it gets here, how much would I pay?”
Me: “…….$115.”
SC: “The same?”
Me: “…Yes.”
I find this particular set of inquiries most puzzling. The price is not going to change between here and there. Were you really asking how much it would cost if you bought it but we just kept it and never gave it to you? I am also somewhat puzzled by the use of the word “If”. I understand the journey across the frozen tundra to reach your particularly remote location is likely fraught with peril. Also, wolves. But that’s not actually our problem and I’m sure Canada Post will just be shoving it out the back of an airplane somewhere within a 5km radius of your village and hoping for the best. So technically the wolves are your problem. We don’t offer any sort of rebate if friends or family members are mauled to death while retrieving your parcel.
Although, I admit we may just be missing out on an excellent marketing opportunity…..perhaps if we did offer say a 10% discount per member of the household mauled by wild animals? Surely it would drum up sales around the holidays. And even if someone does end up getting 40% or 50% off on order, it’s not like they’ll be able to do it again anytime soon.
Granted, I guess we do run the risk of cultural influence at that point. I'd hate for a tradition to develop after a few generations. Where the village elders, rather than burdening the community with taking care of them, would call to place just one last order.
Mostly because it would increase call traffic.
Ahhh, The City
I feel compelled to point out that if you’re leaving the Skytrain platform downtown and are already so drunk you only made it 4 steps up before you had to have a lay down to think about how to make it the rest of the way…..it’s probably time to just turn around and get right back on the Skytrain and go home.
It’s nice to see downtown hasn’t changed in my absence.
Pressure Leak
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Uh…wait, I forgot.”
Well, then look down and take a wild guess.
SC: “uh……………..”
Me: “…….”
SC: “….this is <company>, right?”
Me: “…Yes.”
SC: “um…….”
Me: “………?”
SC: “What did you say again?”
At the rate memories seem to be leaking from your head you might want to go grab a pot or a bucket or something before you lose anything important. At this rate you’ll be sopping your childhood out of the carpet with paper towel by the end of the call.
Me: “…what size would you like?”
SC: “Oh, uh………….hold on.”
Me: “……….”
SC: “um……..page 11.”
Me: “…alright, but what size would you like?”
SC: “Oh….uh…”
Right, ok, before we attempt to proceed any further is there anyone else in the house? Someone you could perhaps ask to jam their finger in your head and plug the leak long enough to finish this call?
Hot Tips
SC: “I was just wondering how they call Vancouver the gateway to the orient and a majoring shipping port. Just wondering if they’re shipping stuff to the States and Vancouver why aren’t they shipping to Seattle and Los Angeles?”
….forgive me, I have been away some time and have fallen out of practice when it comes to interpreting your mental flatulence. You’re wondering why they ship things to the States….but not to Seattle or Los Angeles? Which…I should point out are in the States. I’m also not entirely sure who “they” are I this scenario or what it is they are failing to ship.
SC: “Unless it’s a major gateway for heroin and cocaine and that’s what’s really going on.”
Ahhh…right, heroin and cocaine. Or as it’s known in your world: “Tuesday”.
Moniker
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “One item only.”
…..a most peculiar name you have there, One Item Only. Though it doesn’t quite have the same majesty as Dances With Wolves or the boldness of Sitting Bull. But go with your strengths, I guess.
Hot Tips
SC: “Hi, yeah. I’m not in need of Mr and Mrs and her husband dressing up in some sort of victims service officers constable outfit trying to do a non-threatening kind of a thing saying hello to me without my consent.”
…..you guys must have really missed me. Not that I don’t appreciate this warm welcome but I’ve been off for a couple weeks now. Go easy on me, would you? I’m not sure what incident you’re referring to either, though I must point out there is nothing I can do about it if a polygamist police trio want to wave hello to you on the street.
SC: “I’m not allowing anything without my consent. Don’t do that to me again!”
Why is absolutely everything in your life somehow my fault anyway? Also, you know that thing they did? The thing you object too? “Waving” I believe it was? Yes, that. I regret to inform you that waving is a wide spread and rather common phenomena. It’s practically a global pandemic and neither you nor I have the power to stand up to its overwhelming strength. The world waving situation has long since past critical mass and all we can do now is sit back and bare witness as people everywhere raise their hands and take part in this insidious ritual. It’s something you’re going to have to learn to live with, because we puny mortals could never hope to turn back its dark tide.
Mad Rhymes
I’m really curious as to what point rap became an acceptable performance medium when trying to drum up spare change on a street corner. More and more I see…..performers…..downtown on my way to work attempting to drum up cash via phat beatz. I find this increasingly popular approach rather horrifying to be honest. Out of all the genres of music, rap is the worst when done badly. It truly is. Bad rap is an excruciating experience that destroys the happiness of all within earshot then clings to them like a malaise of sadness for the next 15 minutes.
Yet despite the terrible darkness that may be unleashed, it is also the one genre of music that absolutely everyone seems convinced they are capable of. Primarily because it does not really require any singing ability. It does, however, still require rhythm, which you, my scruffy bandanna’d friend on the corner, do not have. You are also attempting what I believe is referred to as “freestyle”. Where you attempt to devise lyrics on the fly only to stumble a minute in after failing to find a word that rhymes with “Tourniquet”.
Unfortunately I was forced to endure your “song” for far longer than I would like as I had to wait for the light to change to cross the street. And while the thought of sprinting into traffic to escape your ballad did briefly cross my mind, I didn’t think any vehicle goes through that intersection fast enough to kill me instantly. Thus running the danger I would still be conscious for a few minutes and thus still able to hear.
Perhaps fortunately, his insistence on performing oral on the mic ( with a level of desperation akin to believing the human clitoris can cure cancer ) made most of the lyrics unintelligable. Save the one verse I made out: “Music is my life. Music is my light against the dark. It is my second light, besides the first one. But like more than it.”. I do not even know what that means, but judging from the perplexed look on his face he didn’t either. Not that that stopped him though.
Ah, Yes
Me: “Which catalog are you looking in?”
SC: “I don’t have a catalog, I’m looking at the thing.”
The “thing”, you say? You do realize that’s a rather broad term, right? What thing do you mean? The Internet? A flier? Bathroom stall graphitti? ( “For a good time & a great hat, call xxx-xxx-xxxx”? ). Be a tad more specific man. I don’t have a catalog code for “Truck stop stall”.
Progress
While I admire that you’re making progress and actually got to the top of the stairs before you needed to have a little lay down and figure out how to make it the rest of the way out of the station….you’re still already too drunk to be heading downtown. And should just turn around and get right back on the Skytrain and go home, me thinks.
Mmkay
Now, before I comment, please understand that I do believe you when you tell me your purse was just stolen and you lost your keys thus locking you out of your suite. I do not question the validity of this part of your claim. Where I do begin to have doubts is with the specifics of the scenario you described. It is perfectly believable that someone stole your purse. However, it is rather suspect when you claim that “10 people” were “beating you” to in order to steal your purse. And that this only recently transpired.
Yet rather than being in a coma hooked up to life support, you seem perfectly fine and the officers didn’t even feel the need to bring you down to the station let alone call the paramedics. So unless you’re Wonder Woman, I somewhat doubt you were engaged in an epic struggle with 10 attackers and walked away with nothing more than the indignity of having your purse stolen.
Also, I highly doubt they stole your purse just to get your passport so they could “Use it for terror”. Unless you mean that your purse also contained the keys to the Justice League’s secret base and all of the minutes from their last meeting. But look on the bright side. Even if they have the keys, it’s not like they’re going to be able to steal your invisible jet.
If only there were some sort of item we could use to ensure the truth of the situation.
Ugh
We have officially entered the “What do you mean I can't get it by Christmas?!” phase of the holiday season. This calls for egg nog. Expired egg nog.
Investments
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “Oh, I don’t have that. Would you mind holding? I’d hate to lose this call as I’ve invested some time here.”
While I concur that that was 3 minutes of our lives neither of us will ever get back. I do want to point out that 2 minutes and 45 seconds of it was your incessant rambling before giving me the required information. If wasted time is truly that much of a concern for you, might I suggest removing the “Story Time” precursor portions of your interactions with customer service reps in the future. You need only explain that the dryer isn't working in your building. You do not need to explain everything else you were doing when you discovered this or what you specifically had in said dryer ( 4 towels and 3 pairs of socks for the record. This is apparently important. ) when it happened or what happened last time this happened. If you trim all of that out, this call would have clocked in at a delightfully brisk 60 seconds or so. Instead of this protractedly painful 5 minutes you insisted upon.
Unlikely
Me: “And what system are you running on?”
SC: “Ooh, it’s really old. I’m not sure what it was again…..Atari?”
…..Atari…..that’s….pretty old. However, I highly doubt that’s the system in question. I would be both horrified yet amazed if you were somehow running your store off of an Atari. But seeing as that would make your system older than me, and the Atari only had 4 KBs of memory, I find this highly unlikely. As amazing as it was at the time, I don’t think you can process a VISA with Tron: Deadly Disks.
Please Don't Kill Me
I was sifting through our database looking for something when I stumbled upon something...peculiar. Several years ago we use to do a lot of crew paging and communications for various TV and movie productions. Call times, etc. It was somewhat novel but little more than a passing amusement when they popped up. Usually it was for TV shows filming around here, though the occasional movie ( usually a terrible sequel ) popped up too.
Thus when I noticed one in peticular and remembered back when we took calls for it and thus were talking to the crew whenever it popped up. I had totally forgotten because it was long before I ever watched any of it. I cannot speak its name, obviously, and will say only that...dialing....was involved.
Please don't kill me, I didn't know at the time. >.>
annnd rest ( I am ass tired this week. -.- )
Craaaaawwwling In My Skin
SC: “I want it in black.”
Me: “I’m afraid it only comes in plum.”
SC: “Only plum?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “(&@$, can you hold on?”
You did indicate you are looking at this item on the Internet. Which is a miracle onto itself I might add. As it means you’re not only operating a computer but have managed to accomplish a task on it. Yet you somehow missed the fact it says Plum, only Plum and nothing but Plum under colours? I find this rather astounding. As it would seem to indicate you managed to navigate your way to the website and find the item you want, yet are completely incapable of reading.
Truly this is a Christmas miracle.
SC: “Um….this other hat………xxxx”
Me: “Alright. Anything else?”
SC: “Is it in black?”
Me: “…Yes”
SC: “I want that black one.”
Yes, much as the previous item only comes in Plum, that item only comes in Black. You may rest assured that the headgear you seek will be totally absent of all colour. Though I am beginning to question exactly what sort of outfit you’re putting together here and why. You seem fervently insistent that every item you order be as black as, er, well I would say “my heart” but science has not yet discovered a technology that can create a wearable fiber to absorb that much light.
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Uhhhhhh………is XL too big for men?”
I believe I have pointed this out many times before but that is another question completely without context and thus I cannot answer it. I do not know what size the “men” are in your region nor the specific man you speak of. Again, I must point out that while the gene pool may be limited in your area thus leading to a uniform shape and appearance, out here in the rest of civilization “men” actually come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. Most even have opposable thumbs. This is what led to the whole concept of varied size clothing to begin with.
SC: “And a black one.”
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “Is it black?”
Me: “…Yes.”
Yes, it’s black. Everything you’ve ordered is black. Rest assured you will be clad head to toe in the darkest fabric we can possible muster. Not a shred of light will be able to escape your fashion choices and all those who gaze upon you will stare only into the Abyss. I commend you from pulling yourself away from updating your MySpace page with Linkin Park song lyrics long enough to call and place an order to begin with.
SC: “How much is it?”
Me: “It comes to $115 total with shipping and tax.”
SC: “And if it gets here, how much would I pay?”
Me: “…….$115.”
SC: “The same?”
Me: “…Yes.”
I find this particular set of inquiries most puzzling. The price is not going to change between here and there. Were you really asking how much it would cost if you bought it but we just kept it and never gave it to you? I am also somewhat puzzled by the use of the word “If”. I understand the journey across the frozen tundra to reach your particularly remote location is likely fraught with peril. Also, wolves. But that’s not actually our problem and I’m sure Canada Post will just be shoving it out the back of an airplane somewhere within a 5km radius of your village and hoping for the best. So technically the wolves are your problem. We don’t offer any sort of rebate if friends or family members are mauled to death while retrieving your parcel.
Although, I admit we may just be missing out on an excellent marketing opportunity…..perhaps if we did offer say a 10% discount per member of the household mauled by wild animals? Surely it would drum up sales around the holidays. And even if someone does end up getting 40% or 50% off on order, it’s not like they’ll be able to do it again anytime soon.
Granted, I guess we do run the risk of cultural influence at that point. I'd hate for a tradition to develop after a few generations. Where the village elders, rather than burdening the community with taking care of them, would call to place just one last order.
Mostly because it would increase call traffic.
Ahhh, The City
I feel compelled to point out that if you’re leaving the Skytrain platform downtown and are already so drunk you only made it 4 steps up before you had to have a lay down to think about how to make it the rest of the way…..it’s probably time to just turn around and get right back on the Skytrain and go home.
It’s nice to see downtown hasn’t changed in my absence.
Pressure Leak
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Uh…wait, I forgot.”
Well, then look down and take a wild guess.
SC: “uh……………..”
Me: “…….”
SC: “….this is <company>, right?”
Me: “…Yes.”
SC: “um…….”
Me: “………?”
SC: “What did you say again?”
At the rate memories seem to be leaking from your head you might want to go grab a pot or a bucket or something before you lose anything important. At this rate you’ll be sopping your childhood out of the carpet with paper towel by the end of the call.
Me: “…what size would you like?”
SC: “Oh, uh………….hold on.”
Me: “……….”
SC: “um……..page 11.”
Me: “…alright, but what size would you like?”
SC: “Oh….uh…”
Right, ok, before we attempt to proceed any further is there anyone else in the house? Someone you could perhaps ask to jam their finger in your head and plug the leak long enough to finish this call?
Hot Tips
SC: “I was just wondering how they call Vancouver the gateway to the orient and a majoring shipping port. Just wondering if they’re shipping stuff to the States and Vancouver why aren’t they shipping to Seattle and Los Angeles?”
….forgive me, I have been away some time and have fallen out of practice when it comes to interpreting your mental flatulence. You’re wondering why they ship things to the States….but not to Seattle or Los Angeles? Which…I should point out are in the States. I’m also not entirely sure who “they” are I this scenario or what it is they are failing to ship.
SC: “Unless it’s a major gateway for heroin and cocaine and that’s what’s really going on.”
Ahhh…right, heroin and cocaine. Or as it’s known in your world: “Tuesday”.
Moniker
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “One item only.”
…..a most peculiar name you have there, One Item Only. Though it doesn’t quite have the same majesty as Dances With Wolves or the boldness of Sitting Bull. But go with your strengths, I guess.
Hot Tips
SC: “Hi, yeah. I’m not in need of Mr and Mrs and her husband dressing up in some sort of victims service officers constable outfit trying to do a non-threatening kind of a thing saying hello to me without my consent.”
…..you guys must have really missed me. Not that I don’t appreciate this warm welcome but I’ve been off for a couple weeks now. Go easy on me, would you? I’m not sure what incident you’re referring to either, though I must point out there is nothing I can do about it if a polygamist police trio want to wave hello to you on the street.
SC: “I’m not allowing anything without my consent. Don’t do that to me again!”
Why is absolutely everything in your life somehow my fault anyway? Also, you know that thing they did? The thing you object too? “Waving” I believe it was? Yes, that. I regret to inform you that waving is a wide spread and rather common phenomena. It’s practically a global pandemic and neither you nor I have the power to stand up to its overwhelming strength. The world waving situation has long since past critical mass and all we can do now is sit back and bare witness as people everywhere raise their hands and take part in this insidious ritual. It’s something you’re going to have to learn to live with, because we puny mortals could never hope to turn back its dark tide.
Mad Rhymes
I’m really curious as to what point rap became an acceptable performance medium when trying to drum up spare change on a street corner. More and more I see…..performers…..downtown on my way to work attempting to drum up cash via phat beatz. I find this increasingly popular approach rather horrifying to be honest. Out of all the genres of music, rap is the worst when done badly. It truly is. Bad rap is an excruciating experience that destroys the happiness of all within earshot then clings to them like a malaise of sadness for the next 15 minutes.
Yet despite the terrible darkness that may be unleashed, it is also the one genre of music that absolutely everyone seems convinced they are capable of. Primarily because it does not really require any singing ability. It does, however, still require rhythm, which you, my scruffy bandanna’d friend on the corner, do not have. You are also attempting what I believe is referred to as “freestyle”. Where you attempt to devise lyrics on the fly only to stumble a minute in after failing to find a word that rhymes with “Tourniquet”.
Unfortunately I was forced to endure your “song” for far longer than I would like as I had to wait for the light to change to cross the street. And while the thought of sprinting into traffic to escape your ballad did briefly cross my mind, I didn’t think any vehicle goes through that intersection fast enough to kill me instantly. Thus running the danger I would still be conscious for a few minutes and thus still able to hear.
Perhaps fortunately, his insistence on performing oral on the mic ( with a level of desperation akin to believing the human clitoris can cure cancer ) made most of the lyrics unintelligable. Save the one verse I made out: “Music is my life. Music is my light against the dark. It is my second light, besides the first one. But like more than it.”. I do not even know what that means, but judging from the perplexed look on his face he didn’t either. Not that that stopped him though.
Ah, Yes
Me: “Which catalog are you looking in?”
SC: “I don’t have a catalog, I’m looking at the thing.”
The “thing”, you say? You do realize that’s a rather broad term, right? What thing do you mean? The Internet? A flier? Bathroom stall graphitti? ( “For a good time & a great hat, call xxx-xxx-xxxx”? ). Be a tad more specific man. I don’t have a catalog code for “Truck stop stall”.
Progress
While I admire that you’re making progress and actually got to the top of the stairs before you needed to have a little lay down and figure out how to make it the rest of the way out of the station….you’re still already too drunk to be heading downtown. And should just turn around and get right back on the Skytrain and go home, me thinks.
Mmkay
Now, before I comment, please understand that I do believe you when you tell me your purse was just stolen and you lost your keys thus locking you out of your suite. I do not question the validity of this part of your claim. Where I do begin to have doubts is with the specifics of the scenario you described. It is perfectly believable that someone stole your purse. However, it is rather suspect when you claim that “10 people” were “beating you” to in order to steal your purse. And that this only recently transpired.
Yet rather than being in a coma hooked up to life support, you seem perfectly fine and the officers didn’t even feel the need to bring you down to the station let alone call the paramedics. So unless you’re Wonder Woman, I somewhat doubt you were engaged in an epic struggle with 10 attackers and walked away with nothing more than the indignity of having your purse stolen.
Also, I highly doubt they stole your purse just to get your passport so they could “Use it for terror”. Unless you mean that your purse also contained the keys to the Justice League’s secret base and all of the minutes from their last meeting. But look on the bright side. Even if they have the keys, it’s not like they’re going to be able to steal your invisible jet.
If only there were some sort of item we could use to ensure the truth of the situation.
Ugh
We have officially entered the “What do you mean I can't get it by Christmas?!” phase of the holiday season. This calls for egg nog. Expired egg nog.
Investments
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “Oh, I don’t have that. Would you mind holding? I’d hate to lose this call as I’ve invested some time here.”
While I concur that that was 3 minutes of our lives neither of us will ever get back. I do want to point out that 2 minutes and 45 seconds of it was your incessant rambling before giving me the required information. If wasted time is truly that much of a concern for you, might I suggest removing the “Story Time” precursor portions of your interactions with customer service reps in the future. You need only explain that the dryer isn't working in your building. You do not need to explain everything else you were doing when you discovered this or what you specifically had in said dryer ( 4 towels and 3 pairs of socks for the record. This is apparently important. ) when it happened or what happened last time this happened. If you trim all of that out, this call would have clocked in at a delightfully brisk 60 seconds or so. Instead of this protractedly painful 5 minutes you insisted upon.
Unlikely
Me: “And what system are you running on?”
SC: “Ooh, it’s really old. I’m not sure what it was again…..Atari?”
…..Atari…..that’s….pretty old. However, I highly doubt that’s the system in question. I would be both horrified yet amazed if you were somehow running your store off of an Atari. But seeing as that would make your system older than me, and the Atari only had 4 KBs of memory, I find this highly unlikely. As amazing as it was at the time, I don’t think you can process a VISA with Tron: Deadly Disks.
Please Don't Kill Me
I was sifting through our database looking for something when I stumbled upon something...peculiar. Several years ago we use to do a lot of crew paging and communications for various TV and movie productions. Call times, etc. It was somewhat novel but little more than a passing amusement when they popped up. Usually it was for TV shows filming around here, though the occasional movie ( usually a terrible sequel ) popped up too.
Thus when I noticed one in peticular and remembered back when we took calls for it and thus were talking to the crew whenever it popped up. I had totally forgotten because it was long before I ever watched any of it. I cannot speak its name, obviously, and will say only that...dialing....was involved.
Please don't kill me, I didn't know at the time. >.>
annnd rest ( I am ass tired this week. -.- )
I'll bet it's not just your company's number, it's your extension on that truck stop stall!
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