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Meh! Meh, I say!
I fear there's not much to say this week. Mainly due to tear gas. But my thoughts on that are not fit for public discourse outside of Fratching. -.-
It's A Conspiracy
SC: “On your website, why are you always more expensive than <competitor>?”
We’re not, we just don’t like you specifically and we know your IP address. We’re actually running a server side script that automatically adjusts everything upwards by $200 whenever someone visits the site from your IP. If you were actually to try and book through the website, it would “accidently” double charge your credit card. Then every time you called to get it fixed, we would feign ignorance and promise to “look into it” and “get back to you”. But never do. Until you finally call and tell us to just cancel your order and give you a full refund before vowing to never order with us again.
At that point we all high five each other around the office in slow motion while Queen’s “Champions of the World” plays in the background.
Very Good
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Al-“
SC: “Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaants!”
..Yes, that’s right. Those are pants. You are correct. Congratulations. You know, I tend to poke a fair amount of jest at the seemingly universal obsession with pants that callers on this line have. But in all blunt honesty I’m not exaggerating this bizarre affliction. I mean look at this. This caller is so excited for pants he actually proclaims “Paaaaaants” upon giving me the item number. Not for any particular reason except he is simply giddy over the prospect of pants. So giddy he had to order a couple different colours of the same pants. Just to ensure he had a healthy chromatic spread of sweat pants to choose from.
Well, actually it’s possible I’m not quite understanding the objective here. It may be one pair to wear, and another pair to wear on his head. This may not simply be an obsession with pants, but instead an actual conscious attempt at coordinating an outfit before my very eyes. My sad, terrified eyes.
Faux Pas
Me: “And your first name please?”
SC: “Gayle”
Me: “Is that with an I or a Y?”
SC: “……………”
Me: “…………….?”
SC: "............."
I….sense a strange awkward silence here. Have I committed some sort of cultural faux pas I’m unaware of? Have I offended you? If so, I do apologize. I was unaware that daring to ask someone how to spell there name as a grievous offence in Canada’s barren wastelands. Though in retrospect, now that I think about it, it would explain quite a few calls I have taken in the past. I suppose if I had actively forsaken a formal education in favour of trying to salvage literacy from reruns of the Beachcombers I might be rather perplexed as well if someone asked me to actually spell my name.
So accept my humble apologies, but please understand that we are shipping from a relatively bland warehouse on the west coast, not Hogwarts, and thus our Muggle shipping labels do not actually talk. So this information must be recorded in a more mundane, written form.
Wow, Really?
( This idiot is calling his property management company's emergency line to report this... )
SC: “When you run the hot water for more than 15 minutes, it turns cold!”
No! Really? You mean when you run the hot water for over 15 minutes it runs out? Wow! Who’d have thought? You mean hot water runs out? Truly, this revelation has rocked my entire world. I had no idea! I figured a hot water tank was just full of tiny, magical fire pixies who ensured an ever plentiful stream of warmth laden H2O regardless of how long you ran the tap. Wait! Are your fire pixies ok? Have you checked on them lately? They could be hurt or lost!
Hurry, man! They could be in danger!
Errrr....
SC: “You have a great voice, you should be on the radio!”
Thank you, but flattery will get you nowhere.
SC: “I keep listening to your voice and forgetting to answer your questions! I’m like, heeeelllooo, Amy! Pay attention!”
……Thank….you, but increasingly awkward flattery will get you nowhere.
SC: “I’ll be waiting to hear your voice on the radio!”
Right, this is getting a bit weird now.
You Have Chosen Poorly
SC: “This could be the winning ticket!”
Technically correct. However, if you are pleading with the universe for good fortune, you may wish to be more specific. A ticket that ends up netting you a new set of luggage is just as much a “winning” ticket as the one that would shower you with millions of dollars. But would be far far less exciting. Unless you’re really, really into luggage or something. In which case hey, whatever fills your Pez dispenser I guess. We’ve got some mighty fine Samsonite you might be interested in.
SC:: “Give me two tickets. One lucky one and one spare.”
I appreciate that you’re being oddly modest in your requests for magnificent good fortune. But I fear you have just made a grave error. As caller history has established, if you do not specifically request a lucky ticket, you’re obviously going to get one from the batch of tickets we keep stored under a ladder at the Black Cat Rescue Society. In other words, while I can by all means grant you a fabulously lucky ticket. One that, by itself, would surely win you millions. But because you have only requested one, the other ticket in your pack will inevitably have been pulled out from underneath a pair of lazy felines they affectionately call “Omen” and “Harbinger”.
Ironically, these opposing fortune polarities will cancel each other. Granting you exactly the same mundane chance of winning as everyone else.
Engineering
SC: “I’m having trouble with my phaser”
…..Wait, what?
Me: “The what, sorry?”
SC: “My phaser."
Have you tried modulating frequencies or diverting power?
Me: "I'm not following, sorry."
SC: "The thing you put photos in and they come up in your computer."
Me: "A scanner?"
SC: "Yeah!"
Ah, right. I totally forgot my Canon had a "stun" setting.
annnd rest.
It's A Conspiracy
SC: “On your website, why are you always more expensive than <competitor>?”
We’re not, we just don’t like you specifically and we know your IP address. We’re actually running a server side script that automatically adjusts everything upwards by $200 whenever someone visits the site from your IP. If you were actually to try and book through the website, it would “accidently” double charge your credit card. Then every time you called to get it fixed, we would feign ignorance and promise to “look into it” and “get back to you”. But never do. Until you finally call and tell us to just cancel your order and give you a full refund before vowing to never order with us again.
At that point we all high five each other around the office in slow motion while Queen’s “Champions of the World” plays in the background.
Very Good
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Al-“
SC: “Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaants!”
..Yes, that’s right. Those are pants. You are correct. Congratulations. You know, I tend to poke a fair amount of jest at the seemingly universal obsession with pants that callers on this line have. But in all blunt honesty I’m not exaggerating this bizarre affliction. I mean look at this. This caller is so excited for pants he actually proclaims “Paaaaaants” upon giving me the item number. Not for any particular reason except he is simply giddy over the prospect of pants. So giddy he had to order a couple different colours of the same pants. Just to ensure he had a healthy chromatic spread of sweat pants to choose from.
Well, actually it’s possible I’m not quite understanding the objective here. It may be one pair to wear, and another pair to wear on his head. This may not simply be an obsession with pants, but instead an actual conscious attempt at coordinating an outfit before my very eyes. My sad, terrified eyes.
Faux Pas
Me: “And your first name please?”
SC: “Gayle”
Me: “Is that with an I or a Y?”
SC: “……………”
Me: “…………….?”
SC: "............."
I….sense a strange awkward silence here. Have I committed some sort of cultural faux pas I’m unaware of? Have I offended you? If so, I do apologize. I was unaware that daring to ask someone how to spell there name as a grievous offence in Canada’s barren wastelands. Though in retrospect, now that I think about it, it would explain quite a few calls I have taken in the past. I suppose if I had actively forsaken a formal education in favour of trying to salvage literacy from reruns of the Beachcombers I might be rather perplexed as well if someone asked me to actually spell my name.
So accept my humble apologies, but please understand that we are shipping from a relatively bland warehouse on the west coast, not Hogwarts, and thus our Muggle shipping labels do not actually talk. So this information must be recorded in a more mundane, written form.
Wow, Really?
( This idiot is calling his property management company's emergency line to report this... )
SC: “When you run the hot water for more than 15 minutes, it turns cold!”
No! Really? You mean when you run the hot water for over 15 minutes it runs out? Wow! Who’d have thought? You mean hot water runs out? Truly, this revelation has rocked my entire world. I had no idea! I figured a hot water tank was just full of tiny, magical fire pixies who ensured an ever plentiful stream of warmth laden H2O regardless of how long you ran the tap. Wait! Are your fire pixies ok? Have you checked on them lately? They could be hurt or lost!
Hurry, man! They could be in danger!
Errrr....
SC: “You have a great voice, you should be on the radio!”
Thank you, but flattery will get you nowhere.
SC: “I keep listening to your voice and forgetting to answer your questions! I’m like, heeeelllooo, Amy! Pay attention!”
……Thank….you, but increasingly awkward flattery will get you nowhere.
SC: “I’ll be waiting to hear your voice on the radio!”
Right, this is getting a bit weird now.
You Have Chosen Poorly
SC: “This could be the winning ticket!”
Technically correct. However, if you are pleading with the universe for good fortune, you may wish to be more specific. A ticket that ends up netting you a new set of luggage is just as much a “winning” ticket as the one that would shower you with millions of dollars. But would be far far less exciting. Unless you’re really, really into luggage or something. In which case hey, whatever fills your Pez dispenser I guess. We’ve got some mighty fine Samsonite you might be interested in.
SC:: “Give me two tickets. One lucky one and one spare.”
I appreciate that you’re being oddly modest in your requests for magnificent good fortune. But I fear you have just made a grave error. As caller history has established, if you do not specifically request a lucky ticket, you’re obviously going to get one from the batch of tickets we keep stored under a ladder at the Black Cat Rescue Society. In other words, while I can by all means grant you a fabulously lucky ticket. One that, by itself, would surely win you millions. But because you have only requested one, the other ticket in your pack will inevitably have been pulled out from underneath a pair of lazy felines they affectionately call “Omen” and “Harbinger”.
Ironically, these opposing fortune polarities will cancel each other. Granting you exactly the same mundane chance of winning as everyone else.
Engineering
SC: “I’m having trouble with my phaser”
…..Wait, what?
Me: “The what, sorry?”
SC: “My phaser."
Have you tried modulating frequencies or diverting power?
Me: "I'm not following, sorry."
SC: "The thing you put photos in and they come up in your computer."
Me: "A scanner?"
SC: "Yeah!"
Ah, right. I totally forgot my Canon had a "stun" setting.
annnd rest.
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