To pay homage to the evil, almighty God of the call center. It must be an SC, preferably with a mother of an entitlement whore complex, because those are his favorite. I am thinking if I set up a sign on the side of the road that says FREE! FREE! FREE! THIS WAY! leading into an abandoned warehouse, I could have a passel of them rounded up in a few short hours. Oh boy, the fun would start then. You are all invited. Feel free to bring popcorn, shackles, and cattle prods. We're gonna have us some fun!
hello, everyone. It's finals week. I am almost finished, but at the moment I am so sleep deprived I am hallucinating. Unless my cat really is doing the two step on the linoleum...
We're short handed on Saturday mornings right now. This morning was especially bad. Well, Mr. Apology man comes on my line all butt-hurt because he had to wait on hold for 10 minutes.
Me: Thank you for calling Bugaboo cell phones, my name is TPG, my id number is 12345, may I have to mob---
Apology man: WAIT! Wait just a damn minute. What the hell was your name again?
Me: My name is TPG. May I have your mobile number please?
AM: Hold on a minute! Jesus! I have been holding for ten minutes! I am really pissed off about this!
Me: I understand, sir, we are extrememly busy right now. Can I have your mobile number please?
AM: What? No you can't have my mobile number! You haven't even apologized to me for making me wait! This is f%$## ridiculous! Oh no, not the R word again. I hate the R word. It makes my left eye twitch and my hands involuntarily try to strangle whoever's sitting closest to me. I want an apology RIGHT NOW!
Me: No. Sir, everyone is waiting, we are extrememly busy this morning.
AM: You bitch! You're not even going to apologize to me! What kind of customer service is this?
Me:
This is not customer service, sir, this is the security department.
AM: BULLSHIT! You're in a customer service position! You are supposed to apologize to me, and I want my goddamn apology RIGHT F$%^# NOW!
Me: Sir, I am not doing anything for you until you stop screaming at me.
Am: FINE! I want your superior, NOW!
Me: Sure.
Off you go to Jeff. But I warn you, Jeff is a master at kissing your butt while hitting mute and saying terrible things about you. I'm sure he will apologize to you, because he's nicer than I am. He doesn't mean a word of it. He will however, say terrible things afterward about your intelligence, your manhood, your livelihood, and even your phone voice. You'll be the butt of his jokes for the next hour or two. Cause Jeff is evil like that.
Now look, If someone complains they have been holding for a long time, I will apologize, as long as they are being civil to me. In fact I did it ALL MORNING LONG. But if you come on the phone screaming and swearing at me you ain't getting nothing. Get off the phone and leave the technology to people who understand how to be civil. Go back to picking lice out of your chest hair, or whatever you do to impress females in your neck of the woods.
Miss I'm-too-important-to-deal-with-my-issue
Me: *opening call schpiel*
SC:Why am I here?
Me: I'm not sure, ma'am. Could I have your mobile number to look up your account?
SC: Look, all I'm trying to do is put minutes on my phone. I've never been sent to this department before, I have no idea what is going on. Why was I sent here?
Me: I'm not sure yet, ma'am. Can I have your mobile number so I can look at your account for you?
SC: You did not answer my question!
Me: *sigh* I don't know why you were sent here, Ma'am. I need to look at your account to see what the issue is.
SC: Well, that's fine. JUST FINE! *click*
Okay, don't get your issue resolved, then. That's just dandy with me. If you don't want those minutes, can I have them? It's slow right now and I'm kinda bored. I'm going to call the find-someone-who-gives-a-f@$%-brigade for you.
What is it with you people who call and go apeshit over the Spanish option on our automated menu? Like I have any control over that. Yes, you just randomly got connected to the ONE PERSON in this corporation who can get it removed. Let me get right on that! Because this is America, dammit, and everybody needs to speak English otherwise your whiny ass will feel left out because you were too dumb to take Spanish class in high school. I don't really care what your opinion on immigration is, bud, I just want to do my job, so shut up and take it like a man. And anyway, why is it always Spanish that bothers you people? Do you bitch when you call 911 in certain places and it tells you to press 4 for Chinese or 5 for Korean? No, I didn't think so. Admit it. You're a bigoted piece of shit and you have clogged up my headphones long enough with your verbal diahrrea. Shut up and go back to your blow up dolls.
What is it with you people?! Why do you torment me like this?! I just want to do my job, and then go home and sleep for a few pitiful hours before I have to get back up, clean up the shit the cat left on the floor because he's too good to use his nice litterbox, and drag my poor sleepy ass to class, before going back to work for ten hours and doing it all over again. But you seem to have a desire---nay, an addiction---for making my night as difficult and hate-filled as possible. I really want to know what you get out of it, because it doesn't seem like a fair deal to me. How about, for everytime you're rude, short or just plain moronic with me, I get to send an electric shock through the phone to you. Kinda like a cattle prod. Do you think you'd finally learn to shape up, or would it just kill off your last remaining brain cell and leave you a vegetable, pissing in your bed and drooling on the pillow?
Oh wait...
hello, everyone. It's finals week. I am almost finished, but at the moment I am so sleep deprived I am hallucinating. Unless my cat really is doing the two step on the linoleum...

We're short handed on Saturday mornings right now. This morning was especially bad. Well, Mr. Apology man comes on my line all butt-hurt because he had to wait on hold for 10 minutes.
Me: Thank you for calling Bugaboo cell phones, my name is TPG, my id number is 12345, may I have to mob---
Apology man: WAIT! Wait just a damn minute. What the hell was your name again?
Me: My name is TPG. May I have your mobile number please?
AM: Hold on a minute! Jesus! I have been holding for ten minutes! I am really pissed off about this!
Me: I understand, sir, we are extrememly busy right now. Can I have your mobile number please?
AM: What? No you can't have my mobile number! You haven't even apologized to me for making me wait! This is f%$## ridiculous! Oh no, not the R word again. I hate the R word. It makes my left eye twitch and my hands involuntarily try to strangle whoever's sitting closest to me. I want an apology RIGHT NOW!
Me: No. Sir, everyone is waiting, we are extrememly busy this morning.
AM: You bitch! You're not even going to apologize to me! What kind of customer service is this?
Me:

AM: BULLSHIT! You're in a customer service position! You are supposed to apologize to me, and I want my goddamn apology RIGHT F$%^# NOW!
Me: Sir, I am not doing anything for you until you stop screaming at me.
Am: FINE! I want your superior, NOW!
Me: Sure.
Off you go to Jeff. But I warn you, Jeff is a master at kissing your butt while hitting mute and saying terrible things about you. I'm sure he will apologize to you, because he's nicer than I am. He doesn't mean a word of it. He will however, say terrible things afterward about your intelligence, your manhood, your livelihood, and even your phone voice. You'll be the butt of his jokes for the next hour or two. Cause Jeff is evil like that.
Now look, If someone complains they have been holding for a long time, I will apologize, as long as they are being civil to me. In fact I did it ALL MORNING LONG. But if you come on the phone screaming and swearing at me you ain't getting nothing. Get off the phone and leave the technology to people who understand how to be civil. Go back to picking lice out of your chest hair, or whatever you do to impress females in your neck of the woods.
Miss I'm-too-important-to-deal-with-my-issue
Me: *opening call schpiel*
SC:Why am I here?
Me: I'm not sure, ma'am. Could I have your mobile number to look up your account?
SC: Look, all I'm trying to do is put minutes on my phone. I've never been sent to this department before, I have no idea what is going on. Why was I sent here?
Me: I'm not sure yet, ma'am. Can I have your mobile number so I can look at your account for you?
SC: You did not answer my question!
Me: *sigh* I don't know why you were sent here, Ma'am. I need to look at your account to see what the issue is.
SC: Well, that's fine. JUST FINE! *click*
Okay, don't get your issue resolved, then. That's just dandy with me. If you don't want those minutes, can I have them? It's slow right now and I'm kinda bored. I'm going to call the find-someone-who-gives-a-f@$%-brigade for you.
What is it with you people who call and go apeshit over the Spanish option on our automated menu? Like I have any control over that. Yes, you just randomly got connected to the ONE PERSON in this corporation who can get it removed. Let me get right on that! Because this is America, dammit, and everybody needs to speak English otherwise your whiny ass will feel left out because you were too dumb to take Spanish class in high school. I don't really care what your opinion on immigration is, bud, I just want to do my job, so shut up and take it like a man. And anyway, why is it always Spanish that bothers you people? Do you bitch when you call 911 in certain places and it tells you to press 4 for Chinese or 5 for Korean? No, I didn't think so. Admit it. You're a bigoted piece of shit and you have clogged up my headphones long enough with your verbal diahrrea. Shut up and go back to your blow up dolls.
What is it with you people?! Why do you torment me like this?! I just want to do my job, and then go home and sleep for a few pitiful hours before I have to get back up, clean up the shit the cat left on the floor because he's too good to use his nice litterbox, and drag my poor sleepy ass to class, before going back to work for ten hours and doing it all over again. But you seem to have a desire---nay, an addiction---for making my night as difficult and hate-filled as possible. I really want to know what you get out of it, because it doesn't seem like a fair deal to me. How about, for everytime you're rude, short or just plain moronic with me, I get to send an electric shock through the phone to you. Kinda like a cattle prod. Do you think you'd finally learn to shape up, or would it just kill off your last remaining brain cell and leave you a vegetable, pissing in your bed and drooling on the pillow?
Oh wait...
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