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Sometimes I can only marvel....
The Meaning of Life
SC: "I couldn't make it to the seminar because I drive my own truck."
Me: "…..ok?"
SC: "I can't hear you cus I'm a truck driver."
Me: "……."
SC: "Most people when they talk they hold the phone away from their mouth and I can't hear em. Because I'm a truck driver."
You know I've pondered the answer to the what's the meaning of life for years. Little did I know the answer was that simple. Its truck driver! Since apparently the answer to and explanation for EVERYTHING is "truck driver.". What a misguided fool I've been. Thank you for stepping down from your sweaty, vaguely pine smelling, 70's shag carpeted dirty truck cab to shine the light of wisdom upon me.
SC: "I can't hear out of my left ear cus I always have the window down when I'm driving my truck so its windy. That’s what my doctor told me. That's why I can't hear you."
Ok, well since you've been so kind to bless me with the sweet nectar of enlightenment, allow me to return the kind favour: If you can't hear out of your left ear…..why are you holding the phone to your left ear? HOLD THE PHONE TO YOUR RIGHT EAR. You know, the one that doesn't spend its life listening to the sweet music of the open highway. Yeah, never occurred did you did it? Take that little acorn of wisdom with you. Hold it. Cherish it. Now get the hell off my line.
Integrity
SC: "Did you page Bob??"
Me: "Yes, we paged him for you." ( When you called 2 minutes ago. )
SC: "Do you know Bob personally?! Does he stand by his word!?"
Oh yes, Bob is a saint. If only you knew him as I know him. Excuse me while I prostrate myself beneath my desk in worship of him. I must do so every hour on the hour while facing the closest Tim Horton's and reciting last night's CBC Fashion File.
The Blight
Me: "Ok, what size?"
SC: "XXL"
Me: "and what colour?"
SC: "Purple"
Me: "Ok."
SC: "Is it in stock?!"
God I hope so. Because if its not that means more people seriously purchased it aside from you. My mental image of Nunavut is tragic enough as is without adding random grape flavoured blights on the landscape to the picture.
Epic Fail
Me: "and what's your son's first name?"
SC: "Uh……er….."
Oh come on, I'm pitching them low and slow here. That one was practically rolling over home base yet it STILL went over your head? So unless you're a gopher or some other sort of burrowing mammal I'm going to have to declare you an idiot. You know what that means right? That’s right, I'm confiscating your phone. But hey, here's some crayons and some finger paint. You can share them with whatever the hell his name is. You know, that thing you gave birth too. Yeah, him.
Sigh
Me: "and your name, please?"
SC: "Mr Blah Blah"
Me: "Ok, and your first name?"
SC: "Whose, mine?"
……yes. Why, is there another personality and/or imaginary friend there that needs a room too? Because I've only got 4 left at this hotel. So I hope for your collective sakes that your psychosis is a mild case.
Duh
Me: "Ok, the number to call our director at is xxx-xxx-xxxx"
SC: "Do I phone this number?"
That was the implication, yes. I suppose if you like you could tattoo it onto your arse with garlic butter then get someone else to phone it for you while you stand on your head reciting God Save the Queen. But the first suggestion is probably the easier of the two. If much less entertaining.
Linguist
SC: "Do you speak Chinezee?"
….I'm not sure…..I don't think so? I could be wrong. You tell me. Perhaps I am in fact fluent in it, but I was just blissfully unaware of it. You may have uncovered a talent I didn't even know I had.
<sigh> -.-
The Meaning of Life
SC: "I couldn't make it to the seminar because I drive my own truck."
Me: "…..ok?"
SC: "I can't hear you cus I'm a truck driver."
Me: "……."
SC: "Most people when they talk they hold the phone away from their mouth and I can't hear em. Because I'm a truck driver."
You know I've pondered the answer to the what's the meaning of life for years. Little did I know the answer was that simple. Its truck driver! Since apparently the answer to and explanation for EVERYTHING is "truck driver.". What a misguided fool I've been. Thank you for stepping down from your sweaty, vaguely pine smelling, 70's shag carpeted dirty truck cab to shine the light of wisdom upon me.
SC: "I can't hear out of my left ear cus I always have the window down when I'm driving my truck so its windy. That’s what my doctor told me. That's why I can't hear you."
Ok, well since you've been so kind to bless me with the sweet nectar of enlightenment, allow me to return the kind favour: If you can't hear out of your left ear…..why are you holding the phone to your left ear? HOLD THE PHONE TO YOUR RIGHT EAR. You know, the one that doesn't spend its life listening to the sweet music of the open highway. Yeah, never occurred did you did it? Take that little acorn of wisdom with you. Hold it. Cherish it. Now get the hell off my line.
Integrity
SC: "Did you page Bob??"
Me: "Yes, we paged him for you." ( When you called 2 minutes ago. )
SC: "Do you know Bob personally?! Does he stand by his word!?"
Oh yes, Bob is a saint. If only you knew him as I know him. Excuse me while I prostrate myself beneath my desk in worship of him. I must do so every hour on the hour while facing the closest Tim Horton's and reciting last night's CBC Fashion File.
The Blight
Me: "Ok, what size?"
SC: "XXL"
Me: "and what colour?"
SC: "Purple"
Me: "Ok."
SC: "Is it in stock?!"
God I hope so. Because if its not that means more people seriously purchased it aside from you. My mental image of Nunavut is tragic enough as is without adding random grape flavoured blights on the landscape to the picture.
Epic Fail
Me: "and what's your son's first name?"
SC: "Uh……er….."
Oh come on, I'm pitching them low and slow here. That one was practically rolling over home base yet it STILL went over your head? So unless you're a gopher or some other sort of burrowing mammal I'm going to have to declare you an idiot. You know what that means right? That’s right, I'm confiscating your phone. But hey, here's some crayons and some finger paint. You can share them with whatever the hell his name is. You know, that thing you gave birth too. Yeah, him.
Sigh
Me: "and your name, please?"
SC: "Mr Blah Blah"
Me: "Ok, and your first name?"
SC: "Whose, mine?"
……yes. Why, is there another personality and/or imaginary friend there that needs a room too? Because I've only got 4 left at this hotel. So I hope for your collective sakes that your psychosis is a mild case.
Duh
Me: "Ok, the number to call our director at is xxx-xxx-xxxx"
SC: "Do I phone this number?"
That was the implication, yes. I suppose if you like you could tattoo it onto your arse with garlic butter then get someone else to phone it for you while you stand on your head reciting God Save the Queen. But the first suggestion is probably the easier of the two. If much less entertaining.
Linguist
SC: "Do you speak Chinezee?"
….I'm not sure…..I don't think so? I could be wrong. You tell me. Perhaps I am in fact fluent in it, but I was just blissfully unaware of it. You may have uncovered a talent I didn't even know I had.
<sigh> -.-
I AM the evil bastard!
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