( Ok, lets try this again. On the right board this time. )
Yes, I know I'm late. It's been a long painful week. -.-
This week saw the introduction of a new client at work and it's driving me up the wall. The callers for this line are actually challenging 867 for title of the most mentally inept on the continent. Except this line is based in the States. I've been mentally labelling it the Yankee 867. Though technically the area code in question is 404 ( Yes, the irony is not lost on me ). Those of you who know this code may already see the potential.
The account itself is some silly magazine that's trying to get people to invest in the oil industry. They use advertising almost exactly like crazy right wing fear mongering from a couple years back in the US. Basically "INVEST OR THE TERRORISTS WIN". Seriously. The commercials even have Danger Music(tm) and milk the Iraq war to try and get you to invest. So the only people calling me are the one's stupid enough to actually fall for blatant fear mongering.
So its the kind of line I hate the most. One where the callers are retarded and I'm opposed to the product.
People calling in responding to the offer are suppose to give me a code. The code is right on front of the friggan ad/flier they're looking at. This will become very important.
But enough of my ranting...lets get on with my ranting:
This Week's Health Update
I swear our office chairs are going to cripple me…..er…..you know, again.
Tonight was a blue pill night. Much like the Matrix I was given both blue pills and red pills for the duration of my maiming. The red pills are in case I’m sore. The blue pills are in case I can’t move. They’re very effective but I try to avoid taking them because they make it difficult to walk a straight line and prohibit me from driving or operating heavy machinery. Which is disheartening because the last one in particular is a pastime I’m rather fond of.
It did make the walk here fun though. There was some sort of grand opening down town with spotlights and what not. With lots of cops all over Granville. Because that’s what you want: To be dizzily weaving through a pack of cops with a little bag of unmarked pills in your pocket.
Luckily I managed to keep fairly straight and avoid having any intimate moments with a latex glove. Which is good, because cavity searches are pretty high on my daily list of things to avoid. Just under “bears”, "herpes" and "clowns".
<shiver> Clowns....
867
Now, I know math might be a bit of a weak area for you and your ilk. Alongside literacy, sobriety and hygiene. So I’m going to help you out here. Because for all my ranting I am a rather benevolent creature, if I do say so myself. So, zip up your pants, put the beer down and follow along:
You only desired one item. A shirt. This shirt costs $40. So let’s scribble that up on the board:
1 Shirt: $40.
On top of this you of course live so far from civilization the only delivery option is shoved out of the back of a cargo plane at 2000 feet by a guy named Jim. This delivery option, while simplistic, actually costs $40. So let’s pencil that in as well:
Cost of Jim shoving box out of a plane at low altitude: $40.
On top of that, there’s an additional $5 in tax. Lets crayon that in for you. So:
Government’s cut: $5.
This brings the total of your item to $40 and the total of getting your item to you to $45.
Do you see a problem here, boys & girls? No? Ok, let me explain. $45 is a bigger number them $40. Which means our plaid clad butter licking weasel friend here is going to be paying more to have his precious shirt shipped to him than the actual shirt costs. Do you all remember the word for this, boys & girls? I’m sure you do! That’s right, it’s fantastidiotictarded.
Hot Tips for America
( Yes, he's still calling. )
SC: “Yeah, I’m clinically dead but Jesus brought be back”
Me: “So you’re a zombie?”
SC: “I-..huh?”
Me: “Well if you’re clinically dead you must be some sort of zombie, vampire or other form of undead.”
SC: “….uh...um....so yeah I was dead and Jesus brought me back because Jesus is an alien you know. Aliens have been visiting us for millions of years an-“
Me: “Wait, ok, so you’re clinically dead AND an alien?”
SC: “Huh? No, I’m Christian.”
I didn’t know either of those was a requirement for being Christian. Damn. I feel kind of left out now. I was raised Catholic and we didn’t get anything cool like that. All we got was a painfully long, boring Sunday mass that was the closest thing to Hell on Earth a child could experience. But if you actually managed to stay quiet and awake through it without either of your grandparents having to take you back out to the parkign lot to beat you, you got a stale cracker. Mmhmmm.
If we had had aliens, zombies or even just plain old werewolves or something it would have made it much more entertaining. But noooo, here, have a cracker that’s been sitting out on the counter for a week because Jesus loves you.
Fear
Me: “and your phone number please?”
SC: “It’s xxx-xxx- ( he makes his voice lower ) 6 6 6….”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…….4”
Unfortunately, I do not fear the phone number of the Beast. On the other hand you seem to be rather impressed with it.
Have a cracker.
Why Even Call? Seriously?
Me: “Ok, and what’s your postal code please?”
SC: “Oh, I wouldn’t know that.”
Then why did you even call me? Seriously, why? I demand an answer. You knew you were calling to order something and have it mailed to you. Yet you were also aware that you didn't actually know where to have it mailed. So why call me? Why waste both our time?
Did you want me to just write your name on the package, set it on fire and float it down river in memory of the braincells you obviously lost in college?
Hot Tips for America
This call came midway through this conversation with my coworker. He was watching something the Discovery channel.
CW: "Hey, how many lbs is .8 kilos?"
Me: "Eh? Why?"
CW: "Well the show said this thing has .8 kilos of force on impact. What's that in lbs?"
Me: "A kilo is what? 2.2 lbs or something?"
<I get a call on screen>
Me: "Good evening, <client>
SC: “Yeah I just wanted to let you know that with my knowledge of mathematics and-“
Me: “Wait, mathematics?”
SC: “Yeah a-“
Me: “How many lbs is 0.8 kilos?”
SC: “Wha?“
Me: "Well?"
SC: "....."
If he’s going to call all the damn time he may as well make himself useful.
867
Me: “Ok, and what’s your phone number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…..”
Me: “Ok....what’s your entire phone number please?”
SC: “xxx-xxx-xxxx”
…..<sigh>. You know I’m really beginning to understand why they just shove your mail out of the back of a plane. You wouldn’t want to actually have to land there and interact with anyone. Hell, it’s probably like Dawn of the Dead or something. They’d probably swarm the plane and drag you out the hatch kicking and screaming.
Then they'd eat your pants.
It Happens....Sometimes
Me: “They need a laser level as soon as possible.”
On Call Guy: “Hahahahahah! It’s going to cost them a fortune!”
Well, I’m glad that ( for once anyway ) I am the harbinger of glee, rather than sorrow. Even if it does seem to be inspired by greed and joy at the misfortune of others.
Not This Again
Your car is locked in the parkade. Because you did not return in time to retrieve it before the park closed. To rub salt in the wound you actually walked up as the security van was driving away after locking the gate. You demand I rectify this situation for you. A situation which was in no way my now the client's responsibility.
Sadly, I cannot. Well, actually I probably could. But I don't want too and the client would get pissed at me. So instead I will merely take pleasure in your misfortune. It’s the least I can do, after all.
So <ahem> Ha! Sucks to be you. I hope your wallet was in the car too so you only have two options for cab fare:
1) 4 hours panhandling in front of Subway
or
2) 10 minutes in an alley with a guy named "Diamond Dust".
404
Me: “Alright, did you receive a subscription code?”
SC: “A wha? Uh……I dunno, lemme look…..uhh…..I don’t think so….”
Me: “Did you receive a flier or are you looking in the magazine?”
SC: “Yeah I dun got a thing in the mail…uh…”
Me: “Do you see a code number on it anywhere?”
SC: “Umm…..maybe it was on the other part….”
Me: “…..other part?”
SC: “I took the little thing back up off and took it back out to the mailbox.”
Me: “……”
I’m not even sure what the Hell you’re talking about…..do you mean the address label with the code on it? But then why would you peel it off and put it back out in the mailbox? Is it like some sort of weird postal fertility ritual? Like if you take a tiny piece of the mail you received and put it back in your mailbox you’ll magically get more mail the next day? Just fyi, it’s actually a postal stork, er, mail carrier that brings you more mail and they don’t require tribute in any form. Least of all an old sticky address label you’ve licked 3 times and dashed with salt to ward off the bad spirits.
On a side note, this account is suppose to be some sort of financial planning / investment magazine about oil. Yet every single caller I’ve gotten so far has sounded like they’d have serious difficulty completing a financial transaction off of McDonald’s 99 cent menu. Nevermind anything having to do with planning or investment. Hell I’m surprised some of these people were even able to dial the number properly considering I've had a 5 minute conversation with one guy trying to explain the word “code” earlier this evening.
and again...
Me “and your zip code please?”
SC: “It’s….uh…..xxx……xxx……xxx…..um….I don’t even know where I live!”
You know, I know ths guy you'd probably really hit it off with. Want me to hook you two up? The two of you could start slowly. No pressure. Maybe just go out and grab a coffee at Starbucks. Then spent the next 5 days wandering aimlessly downtown because neither of you has any fscking idea where the Hell you are until you both die of dysentery.
404
"Good morning, <client>. Can I help you?"
"AAAAYUPPPPP!"
".....are you calling to sign up for a subscription?"
"AAAAYUPPPPP!"
“.....Ok, did you receive a subscription code?”
“AAAAYUP! SURE DID!”
“What is it please?”
“YA'LL GOT LOTSA SPACE THERE!?”
Nope. To be honest we operate entirely by dictating everything to 6 year olds that dutifully scribe our words on Post-It™ notes using sharpie markers. We pay them in Oreo’s. So it’s all very cost effective really.
I've named mine "Prinny".
Hot Tips for America
Just an update: Prince Charles is still the Anti-Christ and/or a pedophile. Just in case you were keeping notes or something.
Hot Tips for America
SC: “You know Prince Charles is just waiting for the Queen to die so he can become King.”
Me: “……”
SC: “……”
SC: “….hello?”
Me: "Hi."
SC: “You know Prince Charles is just waiting for the Queen to die so he can become King.”
Me: “Yes, I heard you the first time. I’m just trying to figure out why I should care.”
This may take me a while. You might want to make a snack or something.
Hot Tips for America
SC: “You know the United Church of America is Jesus’s favourite.”
Me: “Duly noted.”
I’m curious. Since you seem to know Jesus personally….after all you do seem to talk to him a lot and I vaguely recall he beamed down from the mothership yesterday to cast Resurrection on you for 60% of his base mana....but how exactly did you arrive at this conclusion? It seems like it’d be kind of rude to just ask him up front. I mean He can’t play favourites after all. So was it more like a blind taste test or something? Did 3 out of 4 messiahs prefer the United Church of America?
This is a First Even in My Illustrious Career
Some of the hotel guests climbed onto the roof in their underwear this evening. Really. Neighbours were calling me to complaining that there were people in their undies climbing onto the roof. I half wondered if I was being pranked but the duty manager confirmed that there were indeed guests in their undies climbing on the roof and he was already attempting to deal with the situation. The situation which consisted of hotel guests stripping down to their panties and climbing onto the roof from their balcony at 3am.
If you're wondering at the level of potential Darwin Award involved here this is a 4 story building.
404
The caller’s on this line are seriously nipping upon the heels of and about to eclipse <867 client> for sheer late night idiocy. I don’t know precisely what this magazine is about ( If the website is any indication it’s about oil and the apocalypse ) but I can confirm without a shred of doubt that only raging fools and people over 1000 years old read it. If they aren’t old enough to remember the fall of Rome then they just barely crawled out of a gene pool shallow enough to cross without getting your toenails damp.
Well, That's New
Ever been walking towards someone on Granville and immediately thought “This guy is so going to ask me for change” then when you actually reach them they say this instead: “YOU WANT SOMETHING TO SUCK ON!?”.
No? Well, I have. As of last night anyway.
Mmkay.
Me: “Good evening, <client>.”
SC: “Hello”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “Can I have a million dollars?”
All signs point to “No.”
Evasion
( This is a lawyer's office, This is also like 4am. )
SC: “Yes, I just wanted to talk to Mr. Lawyer.”
Me: “Ok-“
SC: “I have two children, Dumb and Ass, Mr. Lawyer was Ass’s lawyer when he got in trouble and Mr. Lawyer got him a really good deal.”
( I make no claim that the above names are 100% accurate. )
Me: “Ok..”
SC “So I just wanted to talk to Mr. Lawyer….can I talk to you?”
Me: “I’m only their afterhours emergency operator. Was this an emergency?”
SC: “No no, I just wanted to talk to Mr. Lawyer about what he did for Ass and tell him what a good man he is for doing that. Can I talk to you about it instead?”
Me: “Well, I can-“
SC: “Have been watching all these pedophile cases on the news?”
Me: “…no.”
SC: “Have you been watching CNN?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “You don’t follow CNN?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Have been following all these cases with the children down in Texas on that ranch?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “…so you’re not a lawyer?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Are you going become one?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “You’re not aiming to be a lawyer in the future?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
Saving Throw: ( Save vs Crazy ) : *Success!* ( 18 + 2 = 20 )
Now, I rest....and play Age of Conan. That too.
Yes, I know I'm late. It's been a long painful week. -.-
This week saw the introduction of a new client at work and it's driving me up the wall. The callers for this line are actually challenging 867 for title of the most mentally inept on the continent. Except this line is based in the States. I've been mentally labelling it the Yankee 867. Though technically the area code in question is 404 ( Yes, the irony is not lost on me ). Those of you who know this code may already see the potential.
The account itself is some silly magazine that's trying to get people to invest in the oil industry. They use advertising almost exactly like crazy right wing fear mongering from a couple years back in the US. Basically "INVEST OR THE TERRORISTS WIN". Seriously. The commercials even have Danger Music(tm) and milk the Iraq war to try and get you to invest. So the only people calling me are the one's stupid enough to actually fall for blatant fear mongering.
So its the kind of line I hate the most. One where the callers are retarded and I'm opposed to the product.
People calling in responding to the offer are suppose to give me a code. The code is right on front of the friggan ad/flier they're looking at. This will become very important.
But enough of my ranting...lets get on with my ranting:
This Week's Health Update
I swear our office chairs are going to cripple me…..er…..you know, again.
Tonight was a blue pill night. Much like the Matrix I was given both blue pills and red pills for the duration of my maiming. The red pills are in case I’m sore. The blue pills are in case I can’t move. They’re very effective but I try to avoid taking them because they make it difficult to walk a straight line and prohibit me from driving or operating heavy machinery. Which is disheartening because the last one in particular is a pastime I’m rather fond of.
It did make the walk here fun though. There was some sort of grand opening down town with spotlights and what not. With lots of cops all over Granville. Because that’s what you want: To be dizzily weaving through a pack of cops with a little bag of unmarked pills in your pocket.
Luckily I managed to keep fairly straight and avoid having any intimate moments with a latex glove. Which is good, because cavity searches are pretty high on my daily list of things to avoid. Just under “bears”, "herpes" and "clowns".
<shiver> Clowns....
867
Now, I know math might be a bit of a weak area for you and your ilk. Alongside literacy, sobriety and hygiene. So I’m going to help you out here. Because for all my ranting I am a rather benevolent creature, if I do say so myself. So, zip up your pants, put the beer down and follow along:
You only desired one item. A shirt. This shirt costs $40. So let’s scribble that up on the board:
1 Shirt: $40.
On top of this you of course live so far from civilization the only delivery option is shoved out of the back of a cargo plane at 2000 feet by a guy named Jim. This delivery option, while simplistic, actually costs $40. So let’s pencil that in as well:
Cost of Jim shoving box out of a plane at low altitude: $40.
On top of that, there’s an additional $5 in tax. Lets crayon that in for you. So:
Government’s cut: $5.
This brings the total of your item to $40 and the total of getting your item to you to $45.
Do you see a problem here, boys & girls? No? Ok, let me explain. $45 is a bigger number them $40. Which means our plaid clad butter licking weasel friend here is going to be paying more to have his precious shirt shipped to him than the actual shirt costs. Do you all remember the word for this, boys & girls? I’m sure you do! That’s right, it’s fantastidiotictarded.
Hot Tips for America
( Yes, he's still calling. )
SC: “Yeah, I’m clinically dead but Jesus brought be back”
Me: “So you’re a zombie?”
SC: “I-..huh?”
Me: “Well if you’re clinically dead you must be some sort of zombie, vampire or other form of undead.”
SC: “….uh...um....so yeah I was dead and Jesus brought me back because Jesus is an alien you know. Aliens have been visiting us for millions of years an-“
Me: “Wait, ok, so you’re clinically dead AND an alien?”
SC: “Huh? No, I’m Christian.”
I didn’t know either of those was a requirement for being Christian. Damn. I feel kind of left out now. I was raised Catholic and we didn’t get anything cool like that. All we got was a painfully long, boring Sunday mass that was the closest thing to Hell on Earth a child could experience. But if you actually managed to stay quiet and awake through it without either of your grandparents having to take you back out to the parkign lot to beat you, you got a stale cracker. Mmhmmm.
If we had had aliens, zombies or even just plain old werewolves or something it would have made it much more entertaining. But noooo, here, have a cracker that’s been sitting out on the counter for a week because Jesus loves you.
Fear
Me: “and your phone number please?”
SC: “It’s xxx-xxx- ( he makes his voice lower ) 6 6 6….”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…….4”
Unfortunately, I do not fear the phone number of the Beast. On the other hand you seem to be rather impressed with it.
Have a cracker.
Why Even Call? Seriously?
Me: “Ok, and what’s your postal code please?”
SC: “Oh, I wouldn’t know that.”
Then why did you even call me? Seriously, why? I demand an answer. You knew you were calling to order something and have it mailed to you. Yet you were also aware that you didn't actually know where to have it mailed. So why call me? Why waste both our time?
Did you want me to just write your name on the package, set it on fire and float it down river in memory of the braincells you obviously lost in college?
Hot Tips for America
This call came midway through this conversation with my coworker. He was watching something the Discovery channel.
CW: "Hey, how many lbs is .8 kilos?"
Me: "Eh? Why?"
CW: "Well the show said this thing has .8 kilos of force on impact. What's that in lbs?"
Me: "A kilo is what? 2.2 lbs or something?"
<I get a call on screen>
Me: "Good evening, <client>
SC: “Yeah I just wanted to let you know that with my knowledge of mathematics and-“
Me: “Wait, mathematics?”
SC: “Yeah a-“
Me: “How many lbs is 0.8 kilos?”
SC: “Wha?“
Me: "Well?"
SC: "....."
If he’s going to call all the damn time he may as well make himself useful.
867
Me: “Ok, and what’s your phone number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…..”
Me: “Ok....what’s your entire phone number please?”
SC: “xxx-xxx-xxxx”
…..<sigh>. You know I’m really beginning to understand why they just shove your mail out of the back of a plane. You wouldn’t want to actually have to land there and interact with anyone. Hell, it’s probably like Dawn of the Dead or something. They’d probably swarm the plane and drag you out the hatch kicking and screaming.
Then they'd eat your pants.
It Happens....Sometimes
Me: “They need a laser level as soon as possible.”
On Call Guy: “Hahahahahah! It’s going to cost them a fortune!”
Well, I’m glad that ( for once anyway ) I am the harbinger of glee, rather than sorrow. Even if it does seem to be inspired by greed and joy at the misfortune of others.
Not This Again
Your car is locked in the parkade. Because you did not return in time to retrieve it before the park closed. To rub salt in the wound you actually walked up as the security van was driving away after locking the gate. You demand I rectify this situation for you. A situation which was in no way my now the client's responsibility.
Sadly, I cannot. Well, actually I probably could. But I don't want too and the client would get pissed at me. So instead I will merely take pleasure in your misfortune. It’s the least I can do, after all.
So <ahem> Ha! Sucks to be you. I hope your wallet was in the car too so you only have two options for cab fare:
1) 4 hours panhandling in front of Subway
or
2) 10 minutes in an alley with a guy named "Diamond Dust".
404
Me: “Alright, did you receive a subscription code?”
SC: “A wha? Uh……I dunno, lemme look…..uhh…..I don’t think so….”
Me: “Did you receive a flier or are you looking in the magazine?”
SC: “Yeah I dun got a thing in the mail…uh…”
Me: “Do you see a code number on it anywhere?”
SC: “Umm…..maybe it was on the other part….”
Me: “…..other part?”
SC: “I took the little thing back up off and took it back out to the mailbox.”
Me: “……”
I’m not even sure what the Hell you’re talking about…..do you mean the address label with the code on it? But then why would you peel it off and put it back out in the mailbox? Is it like some sort of weird postal fertility ritual? Like if you take a tiny piece of the mail you received and put it back in your mailbox you’ll magically get more mail the next day? Just fyi, it’s actually a postal stork, er, mail carrier that brings you more mail and they don’t require tribute in any form. Least of all an old sticky address label you’ve licked 3 times and dashed with salt to ward off the bad spirits.
On a side note, this account is suppose to be some sort of financial planning / investment magazine about oil. Yet every single caller I’ve gotten so far has sounded like they’d have serious difficulty completing a financial transaction off of McDonald’s 99 cent menu. Nevermind anything having to do with planning or investment. Hell I’m surprised some of these people were even able to dial the number properly considering I've had a 5 minute conversation with one guy trying to explain the word “code” earlier this evening.
and again...
Me “and your zip code please?”
SC: “It’s….uh…..xxx……xxx……xxx…..um….I don’t even know where I live!”
You know, I know ths guy you'd probably really hit it off with. Want me to hook you two up? The two of you could start slowly. No pressure. Maybe just go out and grab a coffee at Starbucks. Then spent the next 5 days wandering aimlessly downtown because neither of you has any fscking idea where the Hell you are until you both die of dysentery.
404
"Good morning, <client>. Can I help you?"
"AAAAYUPPPPP!"
".....are you calling to sign up for a subscription?"
"AAAAYUPPPPP!"
“.....Ok, did you receive a subscription code?”
“AAAAYUP! SURE DID!”
“What is it please?”
“YA'LL GOT LOTSA SPACE THERE!?”
Nope. To be honest we operate entirely by dictating everything to 6 year olds that dutifully scribe our words on Post-It™ notes using sharpie markers. We pay them in Oreo’s. So it’s all very cost effective really.
I've named mine "Prinny".
Hot Tips for America
Just an update: Prince Charles is still the Anti-Christ and/or a pedophile. Just in case you were keeping notes or something.
Hot Tips for America
SC: “You know Prince Charles is just waiting for the Queen to die so he can become King.”
Me: “……”
SC: “……”
SC: “….hello?”
Me: "Hi."
SC: “You know Prince Charles is just waiting for the Queen to die so he can become King.”
Me: “Yes, I heard you the first time. I’m just trying to figure out why I should care.”
This may take me a while. You might want to make a snack or something.
Hot Tips for America
SC: “You know the United Church of America is Jesus’s favourite.”
Me: “Duly noted.”
I’m curious. Since you seem to know Jesus personally….after all you do seem to talk to him a lot and I vaguely recall he beamed down from the mothership yesterday to cast Resurrection on you for 60% of his base mana....but how exactly did you arrive at this conclusion? It seems like it’d be kind of rude to just ask him up front. I mean He can’t play favourites after all. So was it more like a blind taste test or something? Did 3 out of 4 messiahs prefer the United Church of America?
This is a First Even in My Illustrious Career
Some of the hotel guests climbed onto the roof in their underwear this evening. Really. Neighbours were calling me to complaining that there were people in their undies climbing onto the roof. I half wondered if I was being pranked but the duty manager confirmed that there were indeed guests in their undies climbing on the roof and he was already attempting to deal with the situation. The situation which consisted of hotel guests stripping down to their panties and climbing onto the roof from their balcony at 3am.
If you're wondering at the level of potential Darwin Award involved here this is a 4 story building.
404
The caller’s on this line are seriously nipping upon the heels of and about to eclipse <867 client> for sheer late night idiocy. I don’t know precisely what this magazine is about ( If the website is any indication it’s about oil and the apocalypse ) but I can confirm without a shred of doubt that only raging fools and people over 1000 years old read it. If they aren’t old enough to remember the fall of Rome then they just barely crawled out of a gene pool shallow enough to cross without getting your toenails damp.
Well, That's New
Ever been walking towards someone on Granville and immediately thought “This guy is so going to ask me for change” then when you actually reach them they say this instead: “YOU WANT SOMETHING TO SUCK ON!?”.
No? Well, I have. As of last night anyway.
Mmkay.
Me: “Good evening, <client>.”
SC: “Hello”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “Can I have a million dollars?”
All signs point to “No.”
Evasion
( This is a lawyer's office, This is also like 4am. )
SC: “Yes, I just wanted to talk to Mr. Lawyer.”
Me: “Ok-“
SC: “I have two children, Dumb and Ass, Mr. Lawyer was Ass’s lawyer when he got in trouble and Mr. Lawyer got him a really good deal.”
( I make no claim that the above names are 100% accurate. )
Me: “Ok..”
SC “So I just wanted to talk to Mr. Lawyer….can I talk to you?”
Me: “I’m only their afterhours emergency operator. Was this an emergency?”
SC: “No no, I just wanted to talk to Mr. Lawyer about what he did for Ass and tell him what a good man he is for doing that. Can I talk to you about it instead?”
Me: “Well, I can-“
SC: “Have been watching all these pedophile cases on the news?”
Me: “…no.”
SC: “Have you been watching CNN?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “You don’t follow CNN?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Have been following all these cases with the children down in Texas on that ranch?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “…so you’re not a lawyer?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Are you going become one?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “You’re not aiming to be a lawyer in the future?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
Saving Throw: ( Save vs Crazy ) : *Success!* ( 18 + 2 = 20 )
Now, I rest....and play Age of Conan. That too.
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