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Wherein I Am Beset By Lusts
You know what makes public transportation better? Fire!
Effort
Me: “And what would you like to order?”
SC: “Uh.....I forgot.”
You…forgot? If you have the drive, determination and dubious desire to be ordering clothes at 3am how did you forgot the single most important part? Seriously, I have to raise some doubts about your level of commitment here. You put in all of this work, but you’re just too lazy to see it through to the end. Come on, put some effort into it. How do you expect to make anything of your life?
Diplomatic Relations
Wait wait…..let me get this straight. If only because your misery and what led up to it entertain me greatly. You’re a diplomat from <country> currently visiting Vancouver and you were supposedly heading to the airport. A totally random Asian girl walked up to you and offered you a ride. Despite the fact she was a completely random stranger in the dead of night that somehow knew you needed a lift and approached you on the street, you still got in her car no questions asked and let her take you to the Skytrain…even though the Skytrain isn't running this late at night. Now I’m not saying you were up to something else entirely that may involve a profession which is the world's oldest if you will. But I urge you to attempt to plug the Volvo sized holes in your story with something larger than golf balls if you wish to persist with this fabrication.
None the less, you realized that ( Surprise! ) your wallet and your phone, with all of its diplomatic cables and contact numbers, is now shockingly in the possession your female companion and the only thing you know about her is that she’s Asian, a “dancer” and supposedly belongs to a “dance studio” in one of our buildings which you are now in front of. Which you got to from the Skytrain supposedly on foot which is impressive considering the building you’re at is 5km from the Skytrain station you claim to have gone too. And now you demand that I, on the maintenance line no less, somehow track down this “dancer” of yours whose name you do not even know and retrieve your belongings. From inside a "dance studio" that is supposedly in a residential apartment building. Because you only have 24 hours to find it before you have to admit to your government that you dun screwed up.
I fear the only assistance I can offer you at this point is merely words of advice: Me thinks you should start working on a really good story to tell your superiors. Because the entire contents of your cell will probably be on Wikileaks by the end of the week.
No, That's Quite Alright
SC: “Someone pushed the button that wasn’t supposed to be pushed.”
…..The History Eraser Button?
SC: “And it disconbubulated everything.”
I’m not entirely sure what to say to that except to congratulate you for using it in a sentence.
Me: “What was your name please?”
SC: “Mar<cut out>”
Me: “Sorry, Mark was it?”
SC: “Marcus, but you can call me Mark…….If you want.”
…..noooo, that’s ok. Marcus it is. <shudder>. You know, I’m establishing quite a checkered history of being mistaken for a woman and/or sex operator, or just randomly come on to mid call by creepy older men. I’m really beginning to question exactly what I’m doing with my Operator Voice™ that’s causing this and how I might put a stop to it.
Why Would I Care?
Me: “-and your order should arrive in 1-2 weeks.”
SC: “Great. Just one more thing.”
Me: “Yes?”
SC: “It’s me and my wife’s 50th anniversary”
Awww, that’s sweet. Not only do think a completely random stranger that’s being paid to talk to you actually gives a shit, but you’re spending your anniversary ordering pants in the dead of night instead of with your wife. Warms me heart, it does.
Where Have You Been Hiding?
Me: “and would you like email confirmation with your order?”
SC: “What? What’s email?”
I’m impressed you managed to get a VISA card despite penciling in “Under a rock” for your address on the application.
Dammit, Stop That!
Me: “Is there any particular time you’d like them to call?”
SC: “Let me put it this way: I’m ready to go if you’re ready to go.”
….what? No, don’t put it that way. Gah! Why would you say it that way? What is it about my voice that drives you so? Please, tell me! So that I can stop doing it! All I want is for my voice to say “I’m professional and here to assist you” not “I want you inside me”.
Wonderful
So the Skytrain burst into flames this morning. That was nice. I mean, I have a long disturbing list of things I fear or expect may happen while riding the Skytrain but “suddenly burst into flames” wasn’t on there. ( It is now ). I don’t even have to exaggerate this one. The west bound track between Edmonds and Royal Oak burst into flames due to “overheated wiring”. Which meant one train ferrying back and forth between Edmonds and Metrotown. In the middle of the morning rush. It was essentially Act 2 of any given disaster movie where the world ending catastrophe is looming upon the populace from a scant 4 blocks away but the only means of escape can only carry 1/3rd of everyone present. Every square inch of the platform, stairs, overpass over the tracks, stairs down the other side, all available space inside the station, the stairs outside of the station, in every direction, out to the bus loop was shoulder to shoulder people. With one Skytrain attendant trying to direct it. Even the wheel chair ramp was packed with people all the way down to the curb.
Luckily, Canadians are overtly polite and content to just stand around in a huge harmless mass like confused sheep until someone in a vaguely official looking uniform comes by to tell us what to do using the secret codeword "Please".
Why?
Me: “And what was the name of the town?”
SC: “Witless Bay.”
Sooo…..you’re calling from Witless Bay, and you’re having trouble figuring something out with our product? You don't say. I must admit I find myself rather unsurprised Witless Bay is in Newfoundland. Tell me, why did they name your town the punch line of a joke? I find myself quite intrigued by this mystery. Perhaps the Internet can tell me……let’s see…..wait, so it was originally Whittle’s Bay, but Captain Whittle died, so you renamed it to “Whittle Less” Bay because you had no more Whittles left. But figured that was too long and hard to spell, so finally shortened it to Witless Bay? Really? You voluntarily called it that?
Well….alright then…..you know you’re not really helping Newfoundland’s stereotype, right?
What If
SC: “Am I still able to get in under the sale deadline?”
Me: “No, sorry, we’re past midnight now.”
SC: “Unnnnnnnnnnwwwwwwww”
Gah! Stop that! That sent a shiver down my spine. Why do you emit this noise? My nephew would emit that same noise when he didn’t get his way. Back when he was 5.
SC: “What if I say I was waiting for a while on hold to get in?”
The framework of this question amuses me. As it is basically “What if I blatantly lied to you, would you believe me?”
The Sympathy Bid
Ahhh….if there is one thing I enjoy on the night of a sale's deadline, it’s the convoluted attempts to get in on the sale after the deadline has passed. But you, you my friend went above and beyond the call of duty. You had everything covered. All designed to build up to your eventual plea for leniency. Slowly establishing what you hoped would be your case for why I should allow you to still get in despite calling 15 minutes after the fact. You attempted to plant the clues, one by one. Hoping that I would piece them together and realizing the error of our ways, would offer you the chance to subvert time itself.
Even the very first thing you said was a set up:
SC: “Were you guys having problems with your phone? I called 15 minutes ago and just got disconnected. Wasn’t even a dial tone.”
See? The very first thing he said was not so cleverly designed to try and plant the sliver of doubt in my mind. He’s 15 minutes late, but <gasp> he did call 15 minutes ago but some mysterious force disconnected him. Thus he can bear no fault of his own for this mishap.
SC: “I had to phone back and I’ve been on hold for about 10 minutes this time.”
Try 2 minutes. Unfortunately for your attempts at subterfuge, we do actually keep track of these things. Even now I have a little on screen ticker telling me how long I've talked to you. It's beginning to depress me.
Though I applaud your efforts at least.
SC: “I’m hoping that given with what happened here I’m still in deadline.”
What allegedly happened here you mean? I admire your persistence, but we both know this is a poorly constructed fallacy. Save your dignity, my friend. Turn back while you still can. I will not think any less of you.
SC: “Because I got hung up on.”
No, no you didn’t. See, I have a little magic window here that tells me what calls are waiting and for how long. At the time you were allegedly struck down, there was only a single call in queue and it appeared on the mark at midnight. It was also promptly answered. So unless you called someone else entirely, in which case your grievous errors are no responsibility of mine, then I would submit that thou are attempting to deceive me still.
SC: “But I phoned at 10 to midnight!”
I thought you phoned 15 minutes ago? 10 to midnight would have been 25 minutes ago. Granted you also think you were on hold for 10 minutes so I’m not sure your perception of time is overly reliable at this point.
Tremble Before Us! ( Hot Tips. >.> )
SC: “Whose side are you on, the UN’s or the Commonwealth’s?”
I….er….guess…Commonwealth? Since this is Canada?
SC: “Cus Prince Charles father was a man, not a king, so he’s Charles Manson, not Charles Kingson.”
Thank you for clearing that up.
SC: “And he’s gonna delete the Commonwealth and if that happens the UN will go to war with the Commonwealth.”
….he’s…going to delete the Commonwealth, and this will start a war between the Commonwealth and the UN? Even though the Commonwealth was just deleted? So….you’re saying Canada is going to be part of Prince Charle’s evil empire in World War 3? Along with countries like Jamaica and Australia? Yes, truly we will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. Generations to come will speak in hushed whispers of the G'dayMonEh shock troops and their daring but politely quiet midnight raids.
Instant Hate
Me: “Good morning, how may I help you?”
SC: “Hi, bro!”
Congratulations! You’ve discovered one of the secret ways to make me instantly and irreversible despise you with utterly no hope for redemption in this lifetime! Why you must be thrilled. It’s not just every day someone wins this fabulous prize! ( it’s every other day. )
Yes, I'm Catty
Me: “Good evening, <so not a cab company>”
SC: “Hi.”
Me: “Hello, can I help you?”
SC: “Can I get a cab to <address>?”
Me: “I’m sorry, but you've called the wrong number”
SC: “<ADDRESS>!!”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “What do you mean I called the wrong number?”
Me: “I mean you’ve dialed the wrong number.”
SC: “What am I looking for then?”
Me: “A taxi cab, apparently. Which is why you’ve dialed the wrong number.”
SC: “…wha?”
Oh to be someone who can go through life without allowing the word “wrong” to ever actually factor into their mental process in relation to themselves. Completely unable to entertain the possibility they might be wrong even in their wildest dreams. Thus instead, “wrong” merely circles them, unable to find any way in by which it might penetrate their thickened skull. Forced to merely cling to them in a haze of failure that even random passersby can detect as if you hadn’t showered in days.
Instant Hate #2
Me: “The office will be open again at 9am. B-“
SC: “NoIworkalldayandthey’reclosedwhenIgethomesoIguess I’lljustgowithanothercompanythenbye<click>”
Congratulations! You’ve discovered another of my secret ways to make me instantly and irreversible despise you with utterly no hope for redemption in this lifetime! Unfortunately, I can’t even inform you of your prize as you snidely bleeted out that entire thought in a single breath than immediately hung up ensuring you could wallow in the smug, shallow self satisfaction of having the “last word”. As if that seriously matters in any way to a CSR or any other customer service employee, who would normally not even have talked to a miserable pelvic sore such as yourself if they were not being paid to do so.
Really though, people do realize when they interact with customer service it’s because it’s our job right? We’re not just doing it because we think they’re awesome and they must be attended to as if royalty? I admit I have my doubts some nights.
Storytime
Me: “Alright, and what’s the problem with the system?”
SC: “Ok, so I was looking for my sales reports, right? And last night my brother came in and he said-“
Curious. I believe I asked “What’s the problem with the system” not “Can you weave me a bardic tale of whismy?”.
Err..
Me: “Alright, so you can’t launch applications on the back office computer?”
SC: “Yeah, cus it’s cold outside.”
…I….don’t think that has anything to do with it, honestly.
annnd rest.
Effort
Me: “And what would you like to order?”
SC: “Uh.....I forgot.”
You…forgot? If you have the drive, determination and dubious desire to be ordering clothes at 3am how did you forgot the single most important part? Seriously, I have to raise some doubts about your level of commitment here. You put in all of this work, but you’re just too lazy to see it through to the end. Come on, put some effort into it. How do you expect to make anything of your life?
Diplomatic Relations
Wait wait…..let me get this straight. If only because your misery and what led up to it entertain me greatly. You’re a diplomat from <country> currently visiting Vancouver and you were supposedly heading to the airport. A totally random Asian girl walked up to you and offered you a ride. Despite the fact she was a completely random stranger in the dead of night that somehow knew you needed a lift and approached you on the street, you still got in her car no questions asked and let her take you to the Skytrain…even though the Skytrain isn't running this late at night. Now I’m not saying you were up to something else entirely that may involve a profession which is the world's oldest if you will. But I urge you to attempt to plug the Volvo sized holes in your story with something larger than golf balls if you wish to persist with this fabrication.
None the less, you realized that ( Surprise! ) your wallet and your phone, with all of its diplomatic cables and contact numbers, is now shockingly in the possession your female companion and the only thing you know about her is that she’s Asian, a “dancer” and supposedly belongs to a “dance studio” in one of our buildings which you are now in front of. Which you got to from the Skytrain supposedly on foot which is impressive considering the building you’re at is 5km from the Skytrain station you claim to have gone too. And now you demand that I, on the maintenance line no less, somehow track down this “dancer” of yours whose name you do not even know and retrieve your belongings. From inside a "dance studio" that is supposedly in a residential apartment building. Because you only have 24 hours to find it before you have to admit to your government that you dun screwed up.
I fear the only assistance I can offer you at this point is merely words of advice: Me thinks you should start working on a really good story to tell your superiors. Because the entire contents of your cell will probably be on Wikileaks by the end of the week.
No, That's Quite Alright
SC: “Someone pushed the button that wasn’t supposed to be pushed.”
…..The History Eraser Button?
SC: “And it disconbubulated everything.”
I’m not entirely sure what to say to that except to congratulate you for using it in a sentence.
Me: “What was your name please?”
SC: “Mar<cut out>”
Me: “Sorry, Mark was it?”
SC: “Marcus, but you can call me Mark…….If you want.”
…..noooo, that’s ok. Marcus it is. <shudder>. You know, I’m establishing quite a checkered history of being mistaken for a woman and/or sex operator, or just randomly come on to mid call by creepy older men. I’m really beginning to question exactly what I’m doing with my Operator Voice™ that’s causing this and how I might put a stop to it.
Why Would I Care?
Me: “-and your order should arrive in 1-2 weeks.”
SC: “Great. Just one more thing.”
Me: “Yes?”
SC: “It’s me and my wife’s 50th anniversary”
Awww, that’s sweet. Not only do think a completely random stranger that’s being paid to talk to you actually gives a shit, but you’re spending your anniversary ordering pants in the dead of night instead of with your wife. Warms me heart, it does.
Where Have You Been Hiding?
Me: “and would you like email confirmation with your order?”
SC: “What? What’s email?”
I’m impressed you managed to get a VISA card despite penciling in “Under a rock” for your address on the application.
Dammit, Stop That!
Me: “Is there any particular time you’d like them to call?”
SC: “Let me put it this way: I’m ready to go if you’re ready to go.”
….what? No, don’t put it that way. Gah! Why would you say it that way? What is it about my voice that drives you so? Please, tell me! So that I can stop doing it! All I want is for my voice to say “I’m professional and here to assist you” not “I want you inside me”.
Wonderful
So the Skytrain burst into flames this morning. That was nice. I mean, I have a long disturbing list of things I fear or expect may happen while riding the Skytrain but “suddenly burst into flames” wasn’t on there. ( It is now ). I don’t even have to exaggerate this one. The west bound track between Edmonds and Royal Oak burst into flames due to “overheated wiring”. Which meant one train ferrying back and forth between Edmonds and Metrotown. In the middle of the morning rush. It was essentially Act 2 of any given disaster movie where the world ending catastrophe is looming upon the populace from a scant 4 blocks away but the only means of escape can only carry 1/3rd of everyone present. Every square inch of the platform, stairs, overpass over the tracks, stairs down the other side, all available space inside the station, the stairs outside of the station, in every direction, out to the bus loop was shoulder to shoulder people. With one Skytrain attendant trying to direct it. Even the wheel chair ramp was packed with people all the way down to the curb.
Luckily, Canadians are overtly polite and content to just stand around in a huge harmless mass like confused sheep until someone in a vaguely official looking uniform comes by to tell us what to do using the secret codeword "Please".
Why?
Me: “And what was the name of the town?”
SC: “Witless Bay.”
Sooo…..you’re calling from Witless Bay, and you’re having trouble figuring something out with our product? You don't say. I must admit I find myself rather unsurprised Witless Bay is in Newfoundland. Tell me, why did they name your town the punch line of a joke? I find myself quite intrigued by this mystery. Perhaps the Internet can tell me……let’s see…..wait, so it was originally Whittle’s Bay, but Captain Whittle died, so you renamed it to “Whittle Less” Bay because you had no more Whittles left. But figured that was too long and hard to spell, so finally shortened it to Witless Bay? Really? You voluntarily called it that?
Well….alright then…..you know you’re not really helping Newfoundland’s stereotype, right?
What If
SC: “Am I still able to get in under the sale deadline?”
Me: “No, sorry, we’re past midnight now.”
SC: “Unnnnnnnnnnwwwwwwww”
Gah! Stop that! That sent a shiver down my spine. Why do you emit this noise? My nephew would emit that same noise when he didn’t get his way. Back when he was 5.
SC: “What if I say I was waiting for a while on hold to get in?”
The framework of this question amuses me. As it is basically “What if I blatantly lied to you, would you believe me?”
The Sympathy Bid
Ahhh….if there is one thing I enjoy on the night of a sale's deadline, it’s the convoluted attempts to get in on the sale after the deadline has passed. But you, you my friend went above and beyond the call of duty. You had everything covered. All designed to build up to your eventual plea for leniency. Slowly establishing what you hoped would be your case for why I should allow you to still get in despite calling 15 minutes after the fact. You attempted to plant the clues, one by one. Hoping that I would piece them together and realizing the error of our ways, would offer you the chance to subvert time itself.
Even the very first thing you said was a set up:
SC: “Were you guys having problems with your phone? I called 15 minutes ago and just got disconnected. Wasn’t even a dial tone.”
See? The very first thing he said was not so cleverly designed to try and plant the sliver of doubt in my mind. He’s 15 minutes late, but <gasp> he did call 15 minutes ago but some mysterious force disconnected him. Thus he can bear no fault of his own for this mishap.
SC: “I had to phone back and I’ve been on hold for about 10 minutes this time.”
Try 2 minutes. Unfortunately for your attempts at subterfuge, we do actually keep track of these things. Even now I have a little on screen ticker telling me how long I've talked to you. It's beginning to depress me.
Though I applaud your efforts at least.
SC: “I’m hoping that given with what happened here I’m still in deadline.”
What allegedly happened here you mean? I admire your persistence, but we both know this is a poorly constructed fallacy. Save your dignity, my friend. Turn back while you still can. I will not think any less of you.
SC: “Because I got hung up on.”
No, no you didn’t. See, I have a little magic window here that tells me what calls are waiting and for how long. At the time you were allegedly struck down, there was only a single call in queue and it appeared on the mark at midnight. It was also promptly answered. So unless you called someone else entirely, in which case your grievous errors are no responsibility of mine, then I would submit that thou are attempting to deceive me still.
SC: “But I phoned at 10 to midnight!”
I thought you phoned 15 minutes ago? 10 to midnight would have been 25 minutes ago. Granted you also think you were on hold for 10 minutes so I’m not sure your perception of time is overly reliable at this point.
Tremble Before Us! ( Hot Tips. >.> )
SC: “Whose side are you on, the UN’s or the Commonwealth’s?”
I….er….guess…Commonwealth? Since this is Canada?
SC: “Cus Prince Charles father was a man, not a king, so he’s Charles Manson, not Charles Kingson.”
Thank you for clearing that up.
SC: “And he’s gonna delete the Commonwealth and if that happens the UN will go to war with the Commonwealth.”
….he’s…going to delete the Commonwealth, and this will start a war between the Commonwealth and the UN? Even though the Commonwealth was just deleted? So….you’re saying Canada is going to be part of Prince Charle’s evil empire in World War 3? Along with countries like Jamaica and Australia? Yes, truly we will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. Generations to come will speak in hushed whispers of the G'dayMonEh shock troops and their daring but politely quiet midnight raids.
Instant Hate
Me: “Good morning, how may I help you?”
SC: “Hi, bro!”
Congratulations! You’ve discovered one of the secret ways to make me instantly and irreversible despise you with utterly no hope for redemption in this lifetime! Why you must be thrilled. It’s not just every day someone wins this fabulous prize! ( it’s every other day. )
Yes, I'm Catty
Me: “Good evening, <so not a cab company>”
SC: “Hi.”
Me: “Hello, can I help you?”
SC: “Can I get a cab to <address>?”
Me: “I’m sorry, but you've called the wrong number”
SC: “<ADDRESS>!!”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “What do you mean I called the wrong number?”
Me: “I mean you’ve dialed the wrong number.”
SC: “What am I looking for then?”
Me: “A taxi cab, apparently. Which is why you’ve dialed the wrong number.”
SC: “…wha?”
Oh to be someone who can go through life without allowing the word “wrong” to ever actually factor into their mental process in relation to themselves. Completely unable to entertain the possibility they might be wrong even in their wildest dreams. Thus instead, “wrong” merely circles them, unable to find any way in by which it might penetrate their thickened skull. Forced to merely cling to them in a haze of failure that even random passersby can detect as if you hadn’t showered in days.
Instant Hate #2
Me: “The office will be open again at 9am. B-“
SC: “NoIworkalldayandthey’reclosedwhenIgethomesoIguess I’lljustgowithanothercompanythenbye<click>”
Congratulations! You’ve discovered another of my secret ways to make me instantly and irreversible despise you with utterly no hope for redemption in this lifetime! Unfortunately, I can’t even inform you of your prize as you snidely bleeted out that entire thought in a single breath than immediately hung up ensuring you could wallow in the smug, shallow self satisfaction of having the “last word”. As if that seriously matters in any way to a CSR or any other customer service employee, who would normally not even have talked to a miserable pelvic sore such as yourself if they were not being paid to do so.
Really though, people do realize when they interact with customer service it’s because it’s our job right? We’re not just doing it because we think they’re awesome and they must be attended to as if royalty? I admit I have my doubts some nights.
Storytime
Me: “Alright, and what’s the problem with the system?”
SC: “Ok, so I was looking for my sales reports, right? And last night my brother came in and he said-“
Curious. I believe I asked “What’s the problem with the system” not “Can you weave me a bardic tale of whismy?”.
Err..
Me: “Alright, so you can’t launch applications on the back office computer?”
SC: “Yeah, cus it’s cold outside.”
…I….don’t think that has anything to do with it, honestly.
annnd rest.
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