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Biological Warfare
Not a lot to report this week. As I have spent it heavily medicated and am now on involuntary vacation ( Which was a better option than medical leave ) due to pesky ligaments that connect my spine and pelvis not functioning properly again. I can't really afford time off, but better proactive vacation time off than sudden involuntary medical leave off for a longer duration.
Technological Uses
SC: “Are you the answering machine?”
Well, I would certainly hope that any answering machine that was sentient and capable of interpreting complex human dialogue and engaging in conversation would be referred to as The answering machine. As it would indeed be the end all be all of automated phone answering technology. However, unless we as a species have experienced a technological singularity since I left for work, I fear I am but a normal, mundane fleshy CSR. My apologies for disappointing you.
Write It Down
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “…..um…….”
Me: “………….”
SC: “…………..”
Much as I enjoy witnessing to the exact moment a person’s mind buckles under pressure, it does tend to make calls drag on somewhat. At this point you really should come to know and expect all of my questions when you call. There are no surprises here. I ask the same set of inquiries every time. This is not a pop quiz. I don’t mind if you cheat. Feel free to write notes on the back of your hand if you want. In fact, let’s make this really fool proof. Go for tattoos. I mean, let’s face it here, you live in a town of 500 that’s so far north polar bears attack people just to steal their jackets to keep warm.
It’s not like you’re ever going to move and change your address or anything. I think you're pretty much stuck there, doing whatever it is you do, for life. Which, come to think it of it, would probably drive me to alchohol as well.
Oops
Me: “Alright, and your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Ryan.”
I…think I may have just done irreparable damage to the self esteem of a 14 year old boy.
Prepare Thyself
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “……uh……..hold on.”
Hold on? For what? This is the entire reason you called is it not? This is the moment you’ve been breathlessly awaiting. All of your hopes and dreams have culminated in this exact point in time. So why are you not prepared? You should have the item number right in front of you. It should be right there, raring to go. Right at the very forefront of your mind. The item number should be locked and loaded in the firing chamber of your brain. Ready to be triggered at a moment’s notice.
Instead, your brain has apparently jammed, causing the rest of your coherent thoughts to flee the area screaming and huddle behind a dumpster while they wait for the bomb squad.
Hey, Listen
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “It’s xxx-xxx-xxxx”
I was not aware names had area codes. I thought accepted prefixes we things like "Mr" and "Mrs". Am I suppose to go somewhere to get myself registered for one? I seem to have missed out completely. Can I pick any area code or do I have to use my actual area code?
What happens if I move later?
Me: “And your zip code, please?”
SC: “North Carolina”
Right, please help me out here: Are you being intentionally dull witted or has your mind transcended reality and you now experience time all at once as a whole rather than a linear stream? Causing you to perceive every question I have asked and will asked at the same time? Which is causing you, in your limitless consciousness, to become confused when you need to answer them in a linear fashion to a primitive life form such as myself?
I know which one my vote is on.
I'm Not Sure We Cover That
SC: “We got a motherboard struck by lightning-”
Wait wait, your system was smited? I’m not really sure I can provide much in the way of tech support in this case. I also doubt your afterhours service contract covers acts of Zeus.
SC: “I want to talk to someone I can talk too seriously.”
Ah, right. My apologies. I don’t field anything serious here. I mainly just handle wacky and occasionally sublime or ironic. But never really serious.
SC: “I’m going to lose my company if my system keeps going down.”
Well, I may not have an engineering degree per say, but I do hear that there are these things called “Surge protectors”. Which possess the ability to keep Zeus’s wrath at bay. Perhaps you should invest in a couple.
Ew
Nothing says Friday night like a creepy old hobo on the Skytrain that hasn’t shaved since Nixon was president. Staring in total mesmerizing straight down at his own crotch and smacking his lips. For the entire duration of the trip downtown and perhaps beyond seeing as he didn’t get off at Broadway or Granville. For all I know, he headed all the way to Waterfront so that he and….whatever delusions he might have, could launch a nautical premier on the Seabus.
I can't really fathom what could go through your mind to possess you to lock eyes and smack lips at your own genitals so. Maybe something like "Oh man, if I only had a bun".
Hot Tips
SC: “Hey, my name is Vick.”
Sigh. Hello, Vick.
SC: “And I really don’t like to call.”
You don’t like to call? For an activity you profess to dislike, you do partake in it with alarming frequency.
SC: “I really don’t like to call you guys!”
So stop. Please. Stop. Our mutual problems would all be miraculously resolved if you could just make it through a night without touching the phone.
SC: “But something went wrong a couple days ago. My brother gave me a call and said he’s being threatened by the RCMP!”
Threatened? You mean threatened threatened or “Was charged after he thought a passing officer was one of Bin Laden’s cousins hiding out in Canada and assaulted him with a garden hose” threatened? Assuming whatever…affliction it is you have is genetic, anyhow. I’m not 100% sure. It could be heavy substance abuse too I suppose. You do sound like you have a bit of a buzz going on already this evening.
Hot Tips - Combo Breaker
SC: “The stink is killing people.”
Oh, hello. Sorry, I was totally expecting someone else. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of speaking yet. What can I do for you, ma'am? Biological warfare is it? Interesting! But, still not really my thing. If your neighbourhood is actually being gassed, perhaps you should call 911? I’m sure they’re much better equipped for that sort of thing.
SC: “I think my heart stopped.”
Again, 911 is your friend. I would like to be your friend, but I lack the comprehensive medical training you apparently require at the moment.
SC: “What’s your name? I like to write it down on my calendar to mark this incident.”
Wait, what? I’m…...not sure I want to be documented on your misery calendar.
SC: “Whomever is doing this they have a license to kill!”
Really? So James Bond retired and become the manager of a fertilizer plant? That seems rather….unglamorous. Though, I guess if you wanted to retire and still avoid being found by vengeful enemies, it would be the perfect cover.
SC: “They go up to the moon and they can’t solve a problem like this?”
….Up to the moon? Who exactly do you think you’re calling here? This isn't NASA, you know. For that matter, I’m pretty sure NASA doesn’t handle bad smells. Hence NASA, not NASAL.
Hot Tips
SC: “Hey, my name is Vick.”
I am aware of this. Painfully aware of this. To the point where it baffles me completely that you feel any compulsion whatsoever to introduce yourself anymore.
SC: “My brothers tell me that something went wrong.”
Brothers, now? As in plural?
SC: “Something went wrong with our sting!”
Your….sting? You know, one of these days you’re going to have to sit down and really explain to me exactly who and what you think you are. Provided it doesn’t change from day to day, anyhow. As I do seem to recall you also use to be an aerospace engineer ( but NASA stole your spaceship design ), a CIA informant and the hero who allegedly captured Bin Laden’s brother in law ( who was sleeping on your sister’s couch if I recall right? ).
SC: “It went wrong, man! It's all going wrong!"
GAME OVER, MAN! GAME OVER!
annnd rest...for a while. >.>
Technological Uses
SC: “Are you the answering machine?”
Well, I would certainly hope that any answering machine that was sentient and capable of interpreting complex human dialogue and engaging in conversation would be referred to as The answering machine. As it would indeed be the end all be all of automated phone answering technology. However, unless we as a species have experienced a technological singularity since I left for work, I fear I am but a normal, mundane fleshy CSR. My apologies for disappointing you.
Write It Down
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “…..um…….”
Me: “………….”
SC: “…………..”
Much as I enjoy witnessing to the exact moment a person’s mind buckles under pressure, it does tend to make calls drag on somewhat. At this point you really should come to know and expect all of my questions when you call. There are no surprises here. I ask the same set of inquiries every time. This is not a pop quiz. I don’t mind if you cheat. Feel free to write notes on the back of your hand if you want. In fact, let’s make this really fool proof. Go for tattoos. I mean, let’s face it here, you live in a town of 500 that’s so far north polar bears attack people just to steal their jackets to keep warm.
It’s not like you’re ever going to move and change your address or anything. I think you're pretty much stuck there, doing whatever it is you do, for life. Which, come to think it of it, would probably drive me to alchohol as well.
Oops
Me: “Alright, and your name please, ma’am?”
SC: “Ryan.”
I…think I may have just done irreparable damage to the self esteem of a 14 year old boy.
Prepare Thyself
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “……uh……..hold on.”
Hold on? For what? This is the entire reason you called is it not? This is the moment you’ve been breathlessly awaiting. All of your hopes and dreams have culminated in this exact point in time. So why are you not prepared? You should have the item number right in front of you. It should be right there, raring to go. Right at the very forefront of your mind. The item number should be locked and loaded in the firing chamber of your brain. Ready to be triggered at a moment’s notice.
Instead, your brain has apparently jammed, causing the rest of your coherent thoughts to flee the area screaming and huddle behind a dumpster while they wait for the bomb squad.
Hey, Listen
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “It’s xxx-xxx-xxxx”
I was not aware names had area codes. I thought accepted prefixes we things like "Mr" and "Mrs". Am I suppose to go somewhere to get myself registered for one? I seem to have missed out completely. Can I pick any area code or do I have to use my actual area code?
What happens if I move later?
Me: “And your zip code, please?”
SC: “North Carolina”
Right, please help me out here: Are you being intentionally dull witted or has your mind transcended reality and you now experience time all at once as a whole rather than a linear stream? Causing you to perceive every question I have asked and will asked at the same time? Which is causing you, in your limitless consciousness, to become confused when you need to answer them in a linear fashion to a primitive life form such as myself?
I know which one my vote is on.
I'm Not Sure We Cover That
SC: “We got a motherboard struck by lightning-”
Wait wait, your system was smited? I’m not really sure I can provide much in the way of tech support in this case. I also doubt your afterhours service contract covers acts of Zeus.
SC: “I want to talk to someone I can talk too seriously.”
Ah, right. My apologies. I don’t field anything serious here. I mainly just handle wacky and occasionally sublime or ironic. But never really serious.
SC: “I’m going to lose my company if my system keeps going down.”
Well, I may not have an engineering degree per say, but I do hear that there are these things called “Surge protectors”. Which possess the ability to keep Zeus’s wrath at bay. Perhaps you should invest in a couple.
Ew
Nothing says Friday night like a creepy old hobo on the Skytrain that hasn’t shaved since Nixon was president. Staring in total mesmerizing straight down at his own crotch and smacking his lips. For the entire duration of the trip downtown and perhaps beyond seeing as he didn’t get off at Broadway or Granville. For all I know, he headed all the way to Waterfront so that he and….whatever delusions he might have, could launch a nautical premier on the Seabus.
I can't really fathom what could go through your mind to possess you to lock eyes and smack lips at your own genitals so. Maybe something like "Oh man, if I only had a bun".
Hot Tips
SC: “Hey, my name is Vick.”
Sigh. Hello, Vick.
SC: “And I really don’t like to call.”
You don’t like to call? For an activity you profess to dislike, you do partake in it with alarming frequency.
SC: “I really don’t like to call you guys!”
So stop. Please. Stop. Our mutual problems would all be miraculously resolved if you could just make it through a night without touching the phone.
SC: “But something went wrong a couple days ago. My brother gave me a call and said he’s being threatened by the RCMP!”
Threatened? You mean threatened threatened or “Was charged after he thought a passing officer was one of Bin Laden’s cousins hiding out in Canada and assaulted him with a garden hose” threatened? Assuming whatever…affliction it is you have is genetic, anyhow. I’m not 100% sure. It could be heavy substance abuse too I suppose. You do sound like you have a bit of a buzz going on already this evening.
Hot Tips - Combo Breaker
SC: “The stink is killing people.”
Oh, hello. Sorry, I was totally expecting someone else. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of speaking yet. What can I do for you, ma'am? Biological warfare is it? Interesting! But, still not really my thing. If your neighbourhood is actually being gassed, perhaps you should call 911? I’m sure they’re much better equipped for that sort of thing.
SC: “I think my heart stopped.”
Again, 911 is your friend. I would like to be your friend, but I lack the comprehensive medical training you apparently require at the moment.
SC: “What’s your name? I like to write it down on my calendar to mark this incident.”
Wait, what? I’m…...not sure I want to be documented on your misery calendar.
SC: “Whomever is doing this they have a license to kill!”
Really? So James Bond retired and become the manager of a fertilizer plant? That seems rather….unglamorous. Though, I guess if you wanted to retire and still avoid being found by vengeful enemies, it would be the perfect cover.
SC: “They go up to the moon and they can’t solve a problem like this?”
….Up to the moon? Who exactly do you think you’re calling here? This isn't NASA, you know. For that matter, I’m pretty sure NASA doesn’t handle bad smells. Hence NASA, not NASAL.
Hot Tips
SC: “Hey, my name is Vick.”
I am aware of this. Painfully aware of this. To the point where it baffles me completely that you feel any compulsion whatsoever to introduce yourself anymore.
SC: “My brothers tell me that something went wrong.”
Brothers, now? As in plural?
SC: “Something went wrong with our sting!”
Your….sting? You know, one of these days you’re going to have to sit down and really explain to me exactly who and what you think you are. Provided it doesn’t change from day to day, anyhow. As I do seem to recall you also use to be an aerospace engineer ( but NASA stole your spaceship design ), a CIA informant and the hero who allegedly captured Bin Laden’s brother in law ( who was sleeping on your sister’s couch if I recall right? ).
SC: “It went wrong, man! It's all going wrong!"
GAME OVER, MAN! GAME OVER!
annnd rest...for a while. >.>
!!
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