C1: my company
C2: sister company
Stupid is as Stupid does
M: thank you for calling C1 this is Demise speaking. May I have your member number?
SC: 12345678
M: Does that happen to be your C2 member number?
SC: Yes.
M: Do you need to speak to C2 or C1?
SC: C1.
M: Then may I have your C1 number please?
SC: 12345
M: ….
SC: ….
M: is that all sir?
SC: yes.
M: Sir, our member numbers are at least nine digits.
SC: 123456789
M: that number does not work for me. Do you happen to be a C1 member; do you own a timeshare with us?
SC: I WANT TO SPEAK TO A SUPERVISOR!
M: Do you own a timeshare with C1?
SC: I WANT TO SPEAK TO A SUPERVISOR!
M: SIR, if you want to speak to a Supervisor, my supervisor will require an *account/member* number to be able to assist you; do you or do you not own points?
SC: … no.
M: did you purchase a tour package with us?
SC: Yes.
M: Then you need to speak to this department at xxx-xxx-xxxx. Have a great day.
What is wrong with you? Have you not cleaned out your ears in the course of your life and happen to have a two inch thick layer of wax in your ear canals making it impossible for you to *hear* where the hell it is you’re calling? Or are you too damned proud and stupid to believe that you’ve made a mistake. You sir, have taken wishful thinking a step too far.
Epic Fail
M: thank you for calling C1, this is Laurel* speaking with Reservations. May I have your member number please?
SC: What is your name?
Strike one.
I askey the questions, you answer. Once I am satisfied YOU ask, okay?
M: Laur-
EF: SPELL THAT!
Strike 2. I am not your slave. I am not your peon. If you have to ask, do so politely.
M: -grinds teeth- L-A-U-
EF: WHAT?
M: -strangling the air- L-A-U
EF: SLOWER!
M: L….A…U…R….E….L….
EF: Laurel?!
M: -trying not to break kill coworkers- Yes.
EF: Laurel? –huffs- I thought you said Byron.
Strike 3. for fuckssake how the hell do you get Byron from Laurel?
M: and how may I assi—
EF: WHAT?!
M: -sigh- How can I help you?
And your out!
Listen, you miserable, horrible old hag—I don’t have problems with your freakin’ generation, I simply have a goddamned problem with YOUR entitled ass. I’ve dealt with some really sweet 80 year olds who can’t hear worth a damn that make me laugh to no end and *you*, on the other hand, simply have your head and ass fused. How the hell you continue to breathe, I don’t fucking know. It is NOT my fault that you launched yourself into a full-blown whine-fest for nearly 20 minutes upon which I could not put a word in edgewise. This is time I could have spent on hold trying to get Customer Care. But nooooo.. you had to just go on and on and on about how life is unfair, how much this sucks, yadda yadda yadda and in the end, you slam your goddamned phone into my ear because CC is taking too long to answer their phone. DEAL with it.
I wish I could plant my non-existent tree in your backyard!
You’re shitting me.
M: -intro sphiel-
SC: Yeah, what is the date for 2/18/08.
M: -blink- That would be February eighteenth of two thousand and eight.
SC: no. the DATE.
M: m’am, that *is* the date.
SC: NO IT IS NOT! IS IT MONDAY, TUESD—
M: It is a Tuesday.
SC: thanks .
Somewhere, Charles Darwin is rolling in his grave.
*Laurel is not my real name.. it just sounds like it.
C2: sister company
Stupid is as Stupid does
M: thank you for calling C1 this is Demise speaking. May I have your member number?
SC: 12345678
M: Does that happen to be your C2 member number?
SC: Yes.
M: Do you need to speak to C2 or C1?
SC: C1.
M: Then may I have your C1 number please?
SC: 12345
M: ….
SC: ….
M: is that all sir?
SC: yes.
M: Sir, our member numbers are at least nine digits.
SC: 123456789
M: that number does not work for me. Do you happen to be a C1 member; do you own a timeshare with us?
SC: I WANT TO SPEAK TO A SUPERVISOR!
M: Do you own a timeshare with C1?
SC: I WANT TO SPEAK TO A SUPERVISOR!
M: SIR, if you want to speak to a Supervisor, my supervisor will require an *account/member* number to be able to assist you; do you or do you not own points?
SC: … no.
M: did you purchase a tour package with us?
SC: Yes.
M: Then you need to speak to this department at xxx-xxx-xxxx. Have a great day.
What is wrong with you? Have you not cleaned out your ears in the course of your life and happen to have a two inch thick layer of wax in your ear canals making it impossible for you to *hear* where the hell it is you’re calling? Or are you too damned proud and stupid to believe that you’ve made a mistake. You sir, have taken wishful thinking a step too far.
Epic Fail
M: thank you for calling C1, this is Laurel* speaking with Reservations. May I have your member number please?
SC: What is your name?
Strike one.
I askey the questions, you answer. Once I am satisfied YOU ask, okay?
M: Laur-
EF: SPELL THAT!
Strike 2. I am not your slave. I am not your peon. If you have to ask, do so politely.
M: -grinds teeth- L-A-U-
EF: WHAT?
M: -strangling the air- L-A-U
EF: SLOWER!
M: L….A…U…R….E….L….
EF: Laurel?!
M: -trying not to break kill coworkers- Yes.
EF: Laurel? –huffs- I thought you said Byron.
Strike 3. for fuckssake how the hell do you get Byron from Laurel?
M: and how may I assi—
EF: WHAT?!
M: -sigh- How can I help you?
And your out!
Listen, you miserable, horrible old hag—I don’t have problems with your freakin’ generation, I simply have a goddamned problem with YOUR entitled ass. I’ve dealt with some really sweet 80 year olds who can’t hear worth a damn that make me laugh to no end and *you*, on the other hand, simply have your head and ass fused. How the hell you continue to breathe, I don’t fucking know. It is NOT my fault that you launched yourself into a full-blown whine-fest for nearly 20 minutes upon which I could not put a word in edgewise. This is time I could have spent on hold trying to get Customer Care. But nooooo.. you had to just go on and on and on about how life is unfair, how much this sucks, yadda yadda yadda and in the end, you slam your goddamned phone into my ear because CC is taking too long to answer their phone. DEAL with it.
I wish I could plant my non-existent tree in your backyard!
You’re shitting me.
M: -intro sphiel-
SC: Yeah, what is the date for 2/18/08.
M: -blink- That would be February eighteenth of two thousand and eight.
SC: no. the DATE.
M: m’am, that *is* the date.
SC: NO IT IS NOT! IS IT MONDAY, TUESD—
M: It is a Tuesday.
SC: thanks .
Somewhere, Charles Darwin is rolling in his grave.
*Laurel is not my real name.. it just sounds like it.
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