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Argh, it's finally starting to happen. I'm starting to hiss at people outside of work. ><
( Mid week update, trying to post a little more regularly. Also, I'm at work atm, so no cats. I shall bring cats later. )
This sounds oddly familiar....
15 seconds into describing your Personal Technology Crisis™ the crisis resolved itself. However, this did not prevent you from spending the next 5 minutes feverishly talking about how the crisis came about, what you thought caused the crisis, how you felt about the crisis and what you were going to do now after the crisis. If this particular pattern sounds familiar, it’s because it’s the pattern usually followed by homeless tornado victims.
Dullwitted
SC: “Yeah I got an order sayin’ I have to stay out of Vancouver.”
Me: “Ok.”
SC: “and the cops picked me up in Vancouver! What the hell!?”
Now, I'm not a legal expert, a lawyer or even a para-legal. In fact the majority of my knowledge of the justice system comes from a bizarre mixture of Judge Judy and Phoenix Wright ( There's a terrifying fanfic... <shiver> ). But, having said that, I'm pretty confident I can figure out why you were arrested.
On a side note I'm pleasantly surprised we can actually exile idiots like yourself out of Vancouver. Now perhaps if we could get some sort of court order barring you from touching a telephone....
Me too!
SC: “SO MANY PEOPLE NOT GIVE TO ME MONEY!”
You know, I have the exact same problem. Granted, my grammar is slightly better. But still! Stingy bastards.
Spitting in the Face of Convenience
( The ID number lets us bring up a customer's file )
Me: “Do you have Customer ID?”
SC: “Is it the little numbers?
Me: “It should say Customer ID # or VIP ID #.”
SC: “Is it <gives me her phone number>?”
Me: “....no.”
SC: “Hmm, umm....is it <gives me her address>?"
Me: “…no, it's a number and it should say Customer ID # before it."
SC: “Is it <gives me her postal code>?”
Me: “…..no.”
Much as I enjoy wading through the verbal shit pile you’re rapidly regurgitating into this conversation, desperately trying to find the one gleaming speck of useful information………how about we just start from scratch? It’ll be easier, faster and I won’t have to wear hip waders.
I Never Knew...
SC: “What was your name again?”
Me: “Gravekeeper” ( My name isn't unisex... )
SC: “Meaghan?”
Apparently, I have a vagina. I mean, I always kind of wanted one but I guess I should have been a bit more specific.
The Cracks Are Beginning to Show
( <sigh>, I finally began to crack and spat a little venom at the public. >< )
To the oily, gold chain laden hip hop wanna be rat boy yapping on a cell phone leaning on the counter at 7/11: I know the concept of lines is difficult to understand, but when everyone in front of you moves up, you move up too. If you stand in place while everyone else moves onward on the Incredible Journey that is reaching the register, people will naturally begin to assume, after you’ve established a 10 foot gap between you and the person in front of you at the register, and that person is receiving her change and about to leave, that you are not, in fact, part of the line. Thus they will begin moving around you, as you are a greasy obstacle in their path. I, however, did hear your plaintiff cry:
Rat Boy: "Oh, yo, hey DAWGZ, I'm ahead of you."
Seeing as I'm a polite, well mannered lad, I offered you my spot in line.....ok, I stepped out, bowed to you, waved my hand dramatically at the empty spot and replied:
Me: "Well then move forward, DAWG"
But then again, I am a bitter customer service representative. Oh, and a bastard. I forgot bastard. But at least I remembered my manners!
( Sadly, Rat Boy failed his save vs sarcasm and didn't catch on to my mockery. )
JOY!
Ok…so the guy walking in front of me on the way to the office this evening suddenly stopped, did a sort of gleefully little dance, swooped down to snatch something off the sidewalk and began eating it a state of wide eyed joy. Much to my horror. It turned out to be a bag of chips someone had spilled on the sidewalk. But still, what the hell? I’ve never been walking down the street and been like “HOLY FUCK YES~! CHIPS!~!#”.
Now I'm Just Rambling
Me: “Ok, and which credit card would you like to use?”
SC: “Yes!”
Sometimes this feels likes trying to play Hide & Seek with a polar bear in January and I’m it. Well, not January in Vancouver mind you. If I tried it in Vancouver they’d find my cold, half devoured corpse in a ditch somewhere the following day. Hrm……ok maybe this is a bad analogy all together. I should probably avoid any analogy that ends with my horrible, screaming death at the hands ( paws? ) of a lumbering land mammal 3 times my size that could disembowel me in a matter of seconds.
Right, I’ll just stop talking now.
Yes, Yes I Am
( You can only order 3 packs and 8 packs of tickets.. )
SC: “So you can’t just order a single ticket? Oh, you’re so bad!”
Let me just cut you off right there. Because this is generally a line of conversation that results in repeated application of force to someone’s buttocks with an open palm and may or may not involve leather. I’m not saying I’m particularly opposed, but I would like to take a moment to point out that we’re going to have to charge you per minute for this call from here on in.
Uncaring
SC: “$69? Can’t you give me another discount? I only it want it for like 3 hours!”
( Yes, that's right, another, I was already cutting him one on a hotel room since he was stranded )
Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t offer any further discount.”
SC: “Well the travel industry just doesn’t care about its customers!”
Oh, I’m sure it cares. It just cares more about the ones who are actually going to stay in the room long enough to merit the cost of housekeeping. Yes, I know there are in fact hotels that rent by the hour and seeing as this is Vegas, it shouldn’t be hard for this fine gentleman to find one. However, those hotels don’t have housekeeping. They have people that go into the room, pour bleach on every visible surface and then bundle up the sheets, take them out back, douse them in kerosene and set them on fire. Although, technically the job title is still the same.
How Can You Not Know?
SC: “Can I do it by Amex?”
Me: “I’m sorry, we only accept Visa and Mastercard”
SC: “Hmm….I don’t have a Visa.....I wonder if I have a Mastercard….”
Me: “….”
SC: “Oh, hey! I do. Well, what do you know?”
Vastly more about my personal finances then you do, apparently.
Geography
SC: “Where have I reached?”
Me: “This is <company office> for British Columbia”
SC: “Oooooh, ok, do you have a Canadian number?”
…....no, no we don’t. Sorry.
So Close
Me: “Good evening, <company>. Are you calling to book a room?”
SC: “<click click> <click> <click>”
Me: “Hello?"
SC: “<click click click>”
Me: “Hello?”
At that point I hung up on them. Knowing my luck is was probably someone who was bound and gagged, desperately seeking help that had managed to mash their face into their cell phone on the floor enough times to dial out. Now they’re probably stuffed in a shipping crate on a ship bound for east asia all because I didn’t have the patience to try and figure out their desperate Morse code plea for assistance.
Tech Support
No, a wireless router does not count as Satellite Internet unless the router in question is in orbit. So unless a launch fee was included in the set up costs from your ISP, I think you're in the clear.
A Fantastical Stretch of Logic
The caller, who I shall refer to as "Professor Nutgargle", not because he was gargling a scrotum when he called, but because I'm pretty sure he has at some point in his life attempted to apply his mouth to his own genitals, perhaps on more then one occasion if not on a weekly basis, called to make a rather unusual request.
See, Dr Nutgargle's laptop was stolen. This was a grave injustice and a blow to his dignity. What little he has left anyway. Offended that anyone would dare steal his laptop, he called Dell and demanded they send him a new laptop. Free of charge. Why you ask? Well because they should. Because his was stolen. So obviously this is Dell's responsibility and they should pay for it. No, I couldn't follow the logic train on this one either. Dell, of course, told him to get bent.
His solution? Call us to demand that WE replace his laptop. Why you ask? Well, because he had our software installed on the laptop. There for the theft of his laptop is somehow our fault. No, I have no idea how the hell he came to this conclusion.
It took me some time to explain that we were in no way REMOTELY responsible for the theft of his laptop or the replacement of his laptop. I suggested perhaps he should be speaking with his insurance company. However, he didn't know if the laptop was insured or not or even who his insurance company was. Thus it was still our fault because our software was installed on it and I guess our software has a tendency to make laptops sneak out of the house under the cover of darkness and ride public transit unattended or something. ( We're still working on a patch for that. )
After I finally told him to politely get bent, he demanded to be able to register a complaint about our software. At this point I was trying not to just bitterly laugh in his face, but I asked him what exactly he wished to complain about. He wanted to complain that our software only used the primary NIC card so if it was stolen or damaged the software wouldn't work anymore. My response was essentially a polite version of "Sure, whatever, dickface.". ( The software uses the primary Internet connection, so he's just making crap up to be an ass now. ).
He eventually hung up on me after I would not submit to his whims.
( Mid week update, trying to post a little more regularly. Also, I'm at work atm, so no cats. I shall bring cats later. )
This sounds oddly familiar....
15 seconds into describing your Personal Technology Crisis™ the crisis resolved itself. However, this did not prevent you from spending the next 5 minutes feverishly talking about how the crisis came about, what you thought caused the crisis, how you felt about the crisis and what you were going to do now after the crisis. If this particular pattern sounds familiar, it’s because it’s the pattern usually followed by homeless tornado victims.
Dullwitted
SC: “Yeah I got an order sayin’ I have to stay out of Vancouver.”
Me: “Ok.”
SC: “and the cops picked me up in Vancouver! What the hell!?”
Now, I'm not a legal expert, a lawyer or even a para-legal. In fact the majority of my knowledge of the justice system comes from a bizarre mixture of Judge Judy and Phoenix Wright ( There's a terrifying fanfic... <shiver> ). But, having said that, I'm pretty confident I can figure out why you were arrested.
On a side note I'm pleasantly surprised we can actually exile idiots like yourself out of Vancouver. Now perhaps if we could get some sort of court order barring you from touching a telephone....
Me too!
SC: “SO MANY PEOPLE NOT GIVE TO ME MONEY!”
You know, I have the exact same problem. Granted, my grammar is slightly better. But still! Stingy bastards.
Spitting in the Face of Convenience
( The ID number lets us bring up a customer's file )
Me: “Do you have Customer ID?”
SC: “Is it the little numbers?
Me: “It should say Customer ID # or VIP ID #.”
SC: “Is it <gives me her phone number>?”
Me: “....no.”
SC: “Hmm, umm....is it <gives me her address>?"
Me: “…no, it's a number and it should say Customer ID # before it."
SC: “Is it <gives me her postal code>?”
Me: “…..no.”
Much as I enjoy wading through the verbal shit pile you’re rapidly regurgitating into this conversation, desperately trying to find the one gleaming speck of useful information………how about we just start from scratch? It’ll be easier, faster and I won’t have to wear hip waders.
I Never Knew...
SC: “What was your name again?”
Me: “Gravekeeper” ( My name isn't unisex... )
SC: “Meaghan?”
Apparently, I have a vagina. I mean, I always kind of wanted one but I guess I should have been a bit more specific.
The Cracks Are Beginning to Show
( <sigh>, I finally began to crack and spat a little venom at the public. >< )
To the oily, gold chain laden hip hop wanna be rat boy yapping on a cell phone leaning on the counter at 7/11: I know the concept of lines is difficult to understand, but when everyone in front of you moves up, you move up too. If you stand in place while everyone else moves onward on the Incredible Journey that is reaching the register, people will naturally begin to assume, after you’ve established a 10 foot gap between you and the person in front of you at the register, and that person is receiving her change and about to leave, that you are not, in fact, part of the line. Thus they will begin moving around you, as you are a greasy obstacle in their path. I, however, did hear your plaintiff cry:
Rat Boy: "Oh, yo, hey DAWGZ, I'm ahead of you."
Seeing as I'm a polite, well mannered lad, I offered you my spot in line.....ok, I stepped out, bowed to you, waved my hand dramatically at the empty spot and replied:
Me: "Well then move forward, DAWG"
But then again, I am a bitter customer service representative. Oh, and a bastard. I forgot bastard. But at least I remembered my manners!
( Sadly, Rat Boy failed his save vs sarcasm and didn't catch on to my mockery. )
JOY!
Ok…so the guy walking in front of me on the way to the office this evening suddenly stopped, did a sort of gleefully little dance, swooped down to snatch something off the sidewalk and began eating it a state of wide eyed joy. Much to my horror. It turned out to be a bag of chips someone had spilled on the sidewalk. But still, what the hell? I’ve never been walking down the street and been like “HOLY FUCK YES~! CHIPS!~!#”.
Now I'm Just Rambling
Me: “Ok, and which credit card would you like to use?”
SC: “Yes!”
Sometimes this feels likes trying to play Hide & Seek with a polar bear in January and I’m it. Well, not January in Vancouver mind you. If I tried it in Vancouver they’d find my cold, half devoured corpse in a ditch somewhere the following day. Hrm……ok maybe this is a bad analogy all together. I should probably avoid any analogy that ends with my horrible, screaming death at the hands ( paws? ) of a lumbering land mammal 3 times my size that could disembowel me in a matter of seconds.
Right, I’ll just stop talking now.
Yes, Yes I Am
( You can only order 3 packs and 8 packs of tickets.. )
SC: “So you can’t just order a single ticket? Oh, you’re so bad!”
Let me just cut you off right there. Because this is generally a line of conversation that results in repeated application of force to someone’s buttocks with an open palm and may or may not involve leather. I’m not saying I’m particularly opposed, but I would like to take a moment to point out that we’re going to have to charge you per minute for this call from here on in.
Uncaring
SC: “$69? Can’t you give me another discount? I only it want it for like 3 hours!”
( Yes, that's right, another, I was already cutting him one on a hotel room since he was stranded )
Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t offer any further discount.”
SC: “Well the travel industry just doesn’t care about its customers!”
Oh, I’m sure it cares. It just cares more about the ones who are actually going to stay in the room long enough to merit the cost of housekeeping. Yes, I know there are in fact hotels that rent by the hour and seeing as this is Vegas, it shouldn’t be hard for this fine gentleman to find one. However, those hotels don’t have housekeeping. They have people that go into the room, pour bleach on every visible surface and then bundle up the sheets, take them out back, douse them in kerosene and set them on fire. Although, technically the job title is still the same.
How Can You Not Know?
SC: “Can I do it by Amex?”
Me: “I’m sorry, we only accept Visa and Mastercard”
SC: “Hmm….I don’t have a Visa.....I wonder if I have a Mastercard….”
Me: “….”
SC: “Oh, hey! I do. Well, what do you know?”
Vastly more about my personal finances then you do, apparently.
Geography
SC: “Where have I reached?”
Me: “This is <company office> for British Columbia”
SC: “Oooooh, ok, do you have a Canadian number?”
…....no, no we don’t. Sorry.
So Close
Me: “Good evening, <company>. Are you calling to book a room?”
SC: “<click click> <click> <click>”
Me: “Hello?"
SC: “<click click click>”
Me: “Hello?”
At that point I hung up on them. Knowing my luck is was probably someone who was bound and gagged, desperately seeking help that had managed to mash their face into their cell phone on the floor enough times to dial out. Now they’re probably stuffed in a shipping crate on a ship bound for east asia all because I didn’t have the patience to try and figure out their desperate Morse code plea for assistance.
Tech Support
No, a wireless router does not count as Satellite Internet unless the router in question is in orbit. So unless a launch fee was included in the set up costs from your ISP, I think you're in the clear.
A Fantastical Stretch of Logic
The caller, who I shall refer to as "Professor Nutgargle", not because he was gargling a scrotum when he called, but because I'm pretty sure he has at some point in his life attempted to apply his mouth to his own genitals, perhaps on more then one occasion if not on a weekly basis, called to make a rather unusual request.
See, Dr Nutgargle's laptop was stolen. This was a grave injustice and a blow to his dignity. What little he has left anyway. Offended that anyone would dare steal his laptop, he called Dell and demanded they send him a new laptop. Free of charge. Why you ask? Well because they should. Because his was stolen. So obviously this is Dell's responsibility and they should pay for it. No, I couldn't follow the logic train on this one either. Dell, of course, told him to get bent.
His solution? Call us to demand that WE replace his laptop. Why you ask? Well, because he had our software installed on the laptop. There for the theft of his laptop is somehow our fault. No, I have no idea how the hell he came to this conclusion.
It took me some time to explain that we were in no way REMOTELY responsible for the theft of his laptop or the replacement of his laptop. I suggested perhaps he should be speaking with his insurance company. However, he didn't know if the laptop was insured or not or even who his insurance company was. Thus it was still our fault because our software was installed on it and I guess our software has a tendency to make laptops sneak out of the house under the cover of darkness and ride public transit unattended or something. ( We're still working on a patch for that. )
After I finally told him to politely get bent, he demanded to be able to register a complaint about our software. At this point I was trying not to just bitterly laugh in his face, but I asked him what exactly he wished to complain about. He wanted to complain that our software only used the primary NIC card so if it was stolen or damaged the software wouldn't work anymore. My response was essentially a polite version of "Sure, whatever, dickface.". ( The software uses the primary Internet connection, so he's just making crap up to be an ass now. ).
He eventually hung up on me after I would not submit to his whims.
but I have to ask. Do they really have this sign in Vancouver?
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