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Wherein I Don't Even Ask Anymore
Sigh. =p
Try Harder
Me: “And your postal code please, sir?”
SC: “Uh…..what....postal code here…..um……1”
While I appreciate the effort you put forward, I am afraid that you are, once again in your life I’m sure, tragically mistaken. Not only do postal codes begin with a letter, not a number, but even if we did have zip codes that would be insufficient information to locate anything. Unless…..were you trying to give me the country code instead perhaps? In the hope that while it was incorrect, perhaps it would be somewhat helpful? If that is the case, I admire your clumsy attempt at ingenuity, but should point out you have only managed to narrow down your location to all of North America.
Disqualified
SC: “I’m calling from Nigeria”
Ooooh, I’m sorry. But that’s entry #6 on my Top Ten Ways To Immediately Know You’ve Got The Wrong Number. I’m going to have to automatically disqualify your call. But please accept this consolation fruit basket and assortment of complimentary sample sized soaps.
Shh!
SC: “So you’re the afterhours desk?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “What do you do?”
Me: “We take messages for the office afterhours”
SC: “You do know voicemail can do that, right?”
Shhh!! Fool of a Took! That’s suppose to be a secret! We’ve got a good thing going here. Don’t blow it for us!
By Your Powers Combined
( For reference, she's calling to complain about a bad smell in house. No, don't ask why. I don't know either. She calls a few times a week about this and we just placate her by taking a message for her rental company. Its been going on since I came back to work. )
SC: “I think it’s awful that these environmentalists all sleep at night when there are smells like this that need to be investigated!”
Yeah! Damn environmentalists, always sleeping at night. What the heck is their problem anyway? Environmentalists should always be awake and at the ready in case they need answer to Gaia’s call. If only because they’re the only ones capable of summoning Captain Planet.
SC: “I don’t know why they don’t have anyone working this late at night!”
Oh, oh, I can answer that one: Because you’re the only person who ever calls this late at night about this "issue". So catering to your whims isn’t precisely a round the clock job that requires a dedicated employee. Which is where a fine service such as ours comes in. We can’t summon Captain Planet directly but we can page someone that can if needed! However, his emergency list is limited strictly to nuclear waste, oil spills and deforestation. Bad smells will have to wait till his normal office hours.
SC: “It’s because people just don’t know to call! You’re just lucky there’s mainly just Asian people living around here.”
…That…..what? On one hand, I’m pretty sure you just said something offensive, but on the other, I can’t figure out exactly what that something is. That’s an impressive, if dubious, accomplishment.
Qualifications
SC: “Yeah, the washer isn't working in the laundry room. I use to be a mechanic for pinball machines, so I know about these things.”
Ah, yes, of course. You’re absolutely correct! Washing machine, pinball machine, exactly the same thing! Why, you’re probably fully qualified to service that washing machine yourself. Why did you even call? You certainly don’t need our help with it. In fact you’re probably so qualified we should be sending you a job application!
Heck, you know what? You’ve inspired me. I spent all day on the phone, so clearly I’m qualified lay phone cable. I’m going to head outside right now and shimmy up a telephone pole to see if there’s anything I can do to help! Granted, I don’t exactly having any tools or safety equipment, but I do have a pair of scissors and an umbrella. I’m sure that will suffice.
The Magic of Technology
Me: "How may I help you?”
SC: “Yeah, I want my stuff fixed, what’s going on?”
Ah, yes, just one moment. Let me consult my crystal ball here to see what your problem i-oh wait! That’s right, I don’t have one! Silly me. You had me going there for a minute! You joker, you.
Me: “What’s the problem?”
SC: “My computer crashed, you tell me.”
Again, I am not the Desktop Whisperer. You’re going to have to work with me a little bit here.
Me: “Alright, let me page tier 2 for you. What's your number there, please?"
SC: “<sigh> one sec……(mutter) god damn punkass mother fucker! .......ok, it's xxx-xxx-xxxx"
This may come as a surprise, but the receiver on the phone actually keeps working when you hold it away from your face. Amazing, I know. Technology is crazy these days.
( This is the first time I've ever been referred too as "punkass" come to think of it. So, er, congradulations? )
By Your Powers Combined #2
SC: “It stinks again and its making me sick.”
Again? You know, you call every night about this lately and you’re the only one who calls about this from that entire complex. Are you sure this is really a job for Captain Planet? Maybe you should get someone out to check under the crawl space for deceased wildlife. And no, not Captain Planet. He doesn’t do house calls and I don’t think you could pay him enough money to crawl under a house in spandex underwear.
The Ursine Horde
I recognize your name. Do you know what that means? No? Allow me to explain: You order too much. Not only do I recognize your name, I recognize your family name as your entire clan calls me with alarmingly regularity. I do not even require your postal code or town any longer. I can recite your address off by heart the moment you give me your last name. Where all of you reside and apparently spend the better part of your day feverishly huddled over our catalogs. Brows dripping with sweat as you rush to construct yet another order before night fall.
Always by night fall. I’m not sure why you can’t order during the day. Do you spend the day fighting off the bears of the Ursine Horde and can only find the time at night to order? Is every day a battle for survival, and the darkness of the night the only relief you have? Is that why you order from us? There’s no other way to get in supplies except by Canada Post air drop?
You should try Fedex, I think they’ll run a bear blockade for an extra $20.
By Your Powers Combined #3
SC: “It stinks again, it smells like sulphur!”
Look, seriously, Captain Planet isn’t even returning my calls now. Do you see what you’ve done? He’s even upset with me now. You’ve driven a wedge into our relationship and I’m not sure there’s anything I can ever do to heal the wounds. I’ve spent 20 years with Captain Planet as my go too eco-friendly superhero, and you’ve gone and ruined it all!
<sob>
I'm Not Even Going To Ask
Me: “And which catalog would you like to order from?”
SC: “Uh….wut you call this?”
As I just said, that mystical tome is known as a “Catalog”. It is full of wonders beyond imagination, I know.
Me: "And the item number please?"
SC: "xxxx"
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Medium”
Me: “Alright, and which colour would you like?”
SC: “ALL THE COLOURS”
O..okay. Easy there, girl. I know it’s exciting when you have all these wonders beyond imagination before you. But try and control yourself. Those pants come in 5 different colours you know. Surely you don’t need all 5-
Me: “You want one of each?”
SC: “Yeah!”
Why? Why do you need 5 pairs of the same sweat pants but all in different colours? That’s a different colour for every day of the week except the weekends. I’m really trying to comprehend how you can be fashion conscious enough to not want to wear the same colour two days in a row, but still want to wear the exact same sweat pants every day. Also, the colours are White, Grey, Charcoal, Black and Turquoise. So I guess you’d spend the entire week with your butt getting progressively darker until Friday, then it’s party time.
Seriously, the only people that have any need to order over $250 worth of the exact same sweatpants are inventory managers at a Walmart and even they would at least wait till the morning to call.
annnnnd rest.
Try Harder
Me: “And your postal code please, sir?”
SC: “Uh…..what....postal code here…..um……1”
While I appreciate the effort you put forward, I am afraid that you are, once again in your life I’m sure, tragically mistaken. Not only do postal codes begin with a letter, not a number, but even if we did have zip codes that would be insufficient information to locate anything. Unless…..were you trying to give me the country code instead perhaps? In the hope that while it was incorrect, perhaps it would be somewhat helpful? If that is the case, I admire your clumsy attempt at ingenuity, but should point out you have only managed to narrow down your location to all of North America.
Disqualified
SC: “I’m calling from Nigeria”
Ooooh, I’m sorry. But that’s entry #6 on my Top Ten Ways To Immediately Know You’ve Got The Wrong Number. I’m going to have to automatically disqualify your call. But please accept this consolation fruit basket and assortment of complimentary sample sized soaps.
Shh!
SC: “So you’re the afterhours desk?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “What do you do?”
Me: “We take messages for the office afterhours”
SC: “You do know voicemail can do that, right?”
Shhh!! Fool of a Took! That’s suppose to be a secret! We’ve got a good thing going here. Don’t blow it for us!
By Your Powers Combined
( For reference, she's calling to complain about a bad smell in house. No, don't ask why. I don't know either. She calls a few times a week about this and we just placate her by taking a message for her rental company. Its been going on since I came back to work. )
SC: “I think it’s awful that these environmentalists all sleep at night when there are smells like this that need to be investigated!”
Yeah! Damn environmentalists, always sleeping at night. What the heck is their problem anyway? Environmentalists should always be awake and at the ready in case they need answer to Gaia’s call. If only because they’re the only ones capable of summoning Captain Planet.
SC: “I don’t know why they don’t have anyone working this late at night!”
Oh, oh, I can answer that one: Because you’re the only person who ever calls this late at night about this "issue". So catering to your whims isn’t precisely a round the clock job that requires a dedicated employee. Which is where a fine service such as ours comes in. We can’t summon Captain Planet directly but we can page someone that can if needed! However, his emergency list is limited strictly to nuclear waste, oil spills and deforestation. Bad smells will have to wait till his normal office hours.
SC: “It’s because people just don’t know to call! You’re just lucky there’s mainly just Asian people living around here.”
…That…..what? On one hand, I’m pretty sure you just said something offensive, but on the other, I can’t figure out exactly what that something is. That’s an impressive, if dubious, accomplishment.
Qualifications
SC: “Yeah, the washer isn't working in the laundry room. I use to be a mechanic for pinball machines, so I know about these things.”
Ah, yes, of course. You’re absolutely correct! Washing machine, pinball machine, exactly the same thing! Why, you’re probably fully qualified to service that washing machine yourself. Why did you even call? You certainly don’t need our help with it. In fact you’re probably so qualified we should be sending you a job application!
Heck, you know what? You’ve inspired me. I spent all day on the phone, so clearly I’m qualified lay phone cable. I’m going to head outside right now and shimmy up a telephone pole to see if there’s anything I can do to help! Granted, I don’t exactly having any tools or safety equipment, but I do have a pair of scissors and an umbrella. I’m sure that will suffice.
The Magic of Technology
Me: "How may I help you?”
SC: “Yeah, I want my stuff fixed, what’s going on?”
Ah, yes, just one moment. Let me consult my crystal ball here to see what your problem i-oh wait! That’s right, I don’t have one! Silly me. You had me going there for a minute! You joker, you.
Me: “What’s the problem?”
SC: “My computer crashed, you tell me.”
Again, I am not the Desktop Whisperer. You’re going to have to work with me a little bit here.
Me: “Alright, let me page tier 2 for you. What's your number there, please?"
SC: “<sigh> one sec……(mutter) god damn punkass mother fucker! .......ok, it's xxx-xxx-xxxx"
This may come as a surprise, but the receiver on the phone actually keeps working when you hold it away from your face. Amazing, I know. Technology is crazy these days.
( This is the first time I've ever been referred too as "punkass" come to think of it. So, er, congradulations? )
By Your Powers Combined #2
SC: “It stinks again and its making me sick.”
Again? You know, you call every night about this lately and you’re the only one who calls about this from that entire complex. Are you sure this is really a job for Captain Planet? Maybe you should get someone out to check under the crawl space for deceased wildlife. And no, not Captain Planet. He doesn’t do house calls and I don’t think you could pay him enough money to crawl under a house in spandex underwear.
The Ursine Horde
I recognize your name. Do you know what that means? No? Allow me to explain: You order too much. Not only do I recognize your name, I recognize your family name as your entire clan calls me with alarmingly regularity. I do not even require your postal code or town any longer. I can recite your address off by heart the moment you give me your last name. Where all of you reside and apparently spend the better part of your day feverishly huddled over our catalogs. Brows dripping with sweat as you rush to construct yet another order before night fall.
Always by night fall. I’m not sure why you can’t order during the day. Do you spend the day fighting off the bears of the Ursine Horde and can only find the time at night to order? Is every day a battle for survival, and the darkness of the night the only relief you have? Is that why you order from us? There’s no other way to get in supplies except by Canada Post air drop?
You should try Fedex, I think they’ll run a bear blockade for an extra $20.
By Your Powers Combined #3
SC: “It stinks again, it smells like sulphur!”
Look, seriously, Captain Planet isn’t even returning my calls now. Do you see what you’ve done? He’s even upset with me now. You’ve driven a wedge into our relationship and I’m not sure there’s anything I can ever do to heal the wounds. I’ve spent 20 years with Captain Planet as my go too eco-friendly superhero, and you’ve gone and ruined it all!
<sob>
I'm Not Even Going To Ask
Me: “And which catalog would you like to order from?”
SC: “Uh….wut you call this?”
As I just said, that mystical tome is known as a “Catalog”. It is full of wonders beyond imagination, I know.
Me: "And the item number please?"
SC: "xxxx"
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Medium”
Me: “Alright, and which colour would you like?”
SC: “ALL THE COLOURS”
O..okay. Easy there, girl. I know it’s exciting when you have all these wonders beyond imagination before you. But try and control yourself. Those pants come in 5 different colours you know. Surely you don’t need all 5-
Me: “You want one of each?”
SC: “Yeah!”
Why? Why do you need 5 pairs of the same sweat pants but all in different colours? That’s a different colour for every day of the week except the weekends. I’m really trying to comprehend how you can be fashion conscious enough to not want to wear the same colour two days in a row, but still want to wear the exact same sweat pants every day. Also, the colours are White, Grey, Charcoal, Black and Turquoise. So I guess you’d spend the entire week with your butt getting progressively darker until Friday, then it’s party time.
Seriously, the only people that have any need to order over $250 worth of the exact same sweatpants are inventory managers at a Walmart and even they would at least wait till the morning to call.
annnnnd rest.
He is my Black Dragon (and yes, a good one) strong, protective, the guardian. I am his Silver Dragon, always by his side, shining for him, cherishing him.
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