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Much Ado About Dumpsters
God what a suck week its been. ( For more reasons then just customers. )
Agreement
SC: “When would you be able to fix some broken tiles?”
Me: “Broken tiles? Ok, well I can notify the office in the morning-“
SC: “In the morning? Isn’t this your job?!”
Me: “This is the afterhours service. I can only pass along a emergencies to the on call.”
SC: “This is an emergency!”
Me: “…broken tiles?”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “I’ll call back in the morning.”
I’m glad we’ve come to a consensus on the stark unimportance of your problems to the rest of the world. You were a bit slow on the uptake, but unlike most of my callers, you actually came through in the end. Bravo.
Patience, Robin
SC: “I’m locked out. I uh, kinda drank too much and now I’m stuck outside.”
Me: “Alright, I’ll send the manager down.”
Moments later….
SC: “Are you coming down? I’m still locked out!”
Yes, yes you are. Do you know why that is? Because you called at 4:11am and its now 4:13am. Even if I had immediately flashed the Bat Signal into the sky, even the Dark Knight could not have descended on your location within the narrow time frame specified. Had you been not only locked out but also under duress at the hands of say, the Riddler, you would at this point be up a certain creek, without a paddle and undoubtedly with ravenous bears on either shore.
867
Me: “and what size would you like?”
SC: “White.”
Me: “Ok, but what size?”
SC: “…uh…white.”
Yes, we established colour. Unless the term white means something different where you are. Perhaps by “white” you mean “Oh god everything around me is white, it’s a vast never ending ocean of snow and ice therefore I shall name any and all large objects white to describe my inherent fear of their immense size and girth”. In which case, I will assume you want this jacket in 4XL.
What?
SC: “What’s the difference between Competitor A and Competitor B’s roofing?”
Nothing. They both suck. A makes their shingles out of the skin of newborn puppies and B’s roofing tiles cause herpes. So buy our roof. Seriously, what do you want me to say here? Oh hai! Hey, can you tell me which one of your competitor’s products I should buy? Kthxbye.
Hot Tips For America
I know we’re normally suppose to pass any “threats” on to the on call. However, I’m not particularly worried about the dire threat that is “If you don’t listen to me, you’ll be sorry, baby!”. Nor do I find reports of supposed terrorist movements that you learned off of ICQ chat while trying to pick up underage girls to be particularly reliable. Especially when your entire report consists of “They’re coming from south America!”. Duly noted. We’ll make sure to take a look out the window to the south every now and then and see if they’ve arrived yet.
We’ll keep you posted.
Why of course
SC: “Hey, if you get any rooms under $100 can you give me a call and let me know?”
Right. Can do. Anything else you’d like? Do you need me to order you pizza? Dry cleaning? Shall I personally fly there to gently dap away your precious tears with a silken handkerchief? Heck, this Las Vegas. I’m sure I could even find someone to come down to the airport and kiss everything better for you. Granted “her” name would be Bunny and “she” would probably be two inches taller then you and wear size 14 shoes.
Manners
“Thank you, afterhours service person.”
You’re welcome, calls in the middle of the night and bothers me for no good reason person.
You sir, have a problem
You have just ordered *24* lottery tickets. 24. That’s $1500 worth of tickets. Which means either A) You have a severe problem you need to come to grips with and seek help for or B) That credit card’s original owner is laying unconscious and bleeding in an alley or C) All of the above.
ONE DAY
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “A wha?”
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “Are you asking for my name?”
…no. Last I checked Canada had not yet been reduce to a dystopian future were people were assigned merely a number and branded like cattle before being sent off to the salt mines. Though it is a future I have warmly imagined more than a few times with regards to our customers. So hopefully some day when I ask the question “What is your customer ID number?” I will in fact mean your name. As I ask you from my black, cast iron throne at the seat of my vast, merciless dark empire before condemning you to a life of servitude in the salt mines. I’m not even sure if you can mine salt to be honest. But it won't stop me from pissing away decades of your life in the attempt.
SOON.
What?
Me: “And how did you hear about us?”
SC: “I don’t want to tell you my life story. Just have them call me.”
..your life story somehow revolves around how you heard about a roofing company? Were you born on our roofing system? Were you conceived on our roofing system? Did your mother have a drunken one night stand with our roofing system and end up bent over a dumpster with her skirt over her head? If so what colour and style of roof was it? Marketing needs to know.
Hey, he said it.
Me: “Alright, I’ll page the on call for you.”
SC: “Ok.”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…..”
SC: “Should I stay on the line or go away?”
Yes. Go away. Now. Faster.
Worst part is my mom still has the book...
SC: “Can I order a single ticket? Gonna win that house.”
Ah, the sweet naivety of childish dreams. When I was a kid I use to dream that I could teach a cat to drive a tank. Man, I drew it, coloured it, wrote an entire book about it and everything. It was all part of my master plan. Tanks first then we’d move on to fighter pilot training. Needless to say that ended up turning out just about as well as your lofty hopes are going too.
Still, they were some sweet drawings I tell ya. I was a crayon Jedi.
Responsibility
SC: “Let’s try my VISA card. I don’t know if it’ll work, I just booked a cruise.”
I have a term I’d like to introduce to you. It’s a rather big term, so you might want to grab some construction paper and a crayon. No, doesn’t matter what colour. Pick your favourite. Ok, ready? Let me introduce you to “Fiscal Responsibility”. I know he looks big and scary, but he really does have your best interests at heart. He doesn’t want to see you coming home from your cruise to find your car repossessed, an eviction notice on your door and all your crap in the street with your only option of getting any of it back being bent over a dumpster with your skirt hiked over your head by some guy named "Imitation Slate".
Dumpster banging makes Fiscal Responsibility sad. You wouldn’t want him to be sad, would you?
OBJECTION!
SC: “Yeah, <lawyer> is my lawyer and the cops like picked me up. I don’t know why they just came up behind me. They didn’t read me my rights or nothin’”
Yes, I’m sure they did. It was just completely out of left field. Had nothing to do with you driving erratically near <street> and blowing over on the breathalyzer.
Sadly, I was unable to contact his lawyer. Tragic I know. I informed him he'd have to wait till morning, but, well...
5 minutes later….
SC: “Um, hi, me again, so <lawyer> isn’t up yet?”
No, no he’s not. He wasn’t up when I called him 5 minutes ago and I doubt he’s up now. It’s 4 in the morning. You’re going to have to enjoy the cold cement, steel bars and uncomfortably friendly cell mate gently caressing your thigh for a while yet.
5 minutes later….
SC: “Hi again, um, so did you get a message to <lawyer>? I know you can’t give me any legal advice, but-“
He then proceeded to, of course, ask me for legal advice. He also inadvertently revealed that his entire understanding of the legal system seems to have been based on largely reruns of Hawaii 5-0. Whereas my entire understanding of the legal system is based mainly on Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. There’s no telling what sort of crazed plan of action would come about if I had conceded to share my knowledge with him and combined these two tragically misguided legal minds.
SC: “Ok, sorry, I won’t call again. Thanks.”
Oh you do so make my little heart go pitterpat with your sweet talk. Promise?
SC: “Hi, so um, do I just have to wait here till <lawyer> gets up?”
Liar! LIAR! How could you just play with a young girl's heart like that?!
I'm not sure what kind of work he wanted to do for me...
SC: “I want to come work for you.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “I want to work for you.”
Me: “You’ll have to call during the day for employment inquiries.”
SC: “Ok, I’ll do that. Thank you, baby!”
An unsettling enough comment on the surface. When you factor in that it was being delivered by a middle aged east Indian man it becomes even more surreal and more than a tad creepy.
Of course
SC: “I need a hotel room here in….uh…..here.”
Ah yes, Here. I’ve been there before. You know, Here, not There, I mean, I’ve been there as in Here. As in where you are there, except it’s Here, but not here, I’m here, you’re there, as in Here. I’ve been there. There at Here even though I’m here……..er….what the hell are we talking about again?
867
Me: “and your postal code please?”
SC: “XXX XP?X”
Me: “P as in Peter or T as in Tom?”
SC: “Yeah.”
No. That response is invalid. I presented you with two very clear, easy to understand options. You must pick one or we cannot move on in this journey of painful self discovery. If you like you can use one of your lifelines to call a friend or ask the audience, but you must answer this question if you wish to make it to the next round and draw ever closer to the prize that is precious precious pants.
867
According to my catalog, the shoes you just ordered came in the colour “Wheat & Chocolate”. Yes, that’s right, wheat and chocolate. For when “brown” just doesn’t sound edible enough. Because if there’s anything footwear should give off, it’s the impression of being edible.
Yes, I get it.
SC: “It’s Blainhamming. B as is Bob. L as in Linda, A as in Apple, I as in Ingrid, N as in Nancy, H as in Harry, E as in Edward-“
Oh oh, I wanna play too! S as in Sam, H as in Harry, U as in Umbrella, T as in Tom, T as in Tom, H as in Harry, E as in Edward, H as in Henry, E as in Edward, L as in Linda, L as in Linda, U as in Umbrella, P as in Peter.
Just a Little Effort
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “Oh yes. But not in front of me.”
Then may I suggest taking whatever measures you require to change your orientation so it is in front of you? I’m not asking for much. Just the tiniest bit of effort on your part so we can make this call go faster for both of us. I for one don’t want to speak you any longer then I have to and I’m sure actually having to use your mouth to talk is keeping you away from the dire consumption of fudge and/or aerosol cheese that helps you forgot how sad your life is. So, please, if you could just turn your head, or your waist, or even all the way around so that you are facing your ID number it would be very much appreciated. Hell, do you have a rotating office chair? Then just dock your quivering ass cheeks with it and summon a friend, family member or even the pizza guy to come spin you in the appropriate direction.
Zero
( This is a dire emergency line. Fire, Flood or DEATH only. yes, it actually says death. She's suppose to call her manager. )
Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t contact the property manager for a lock out-“
SC: “Fine, I guess me having to sleep in the lobby in my pajamas isn’t an emergency! I’ll be buying a new apartment tomorrow! Bye!”
I’m sure you will. But you’ll have to do it by digging through trash cans at the Skytrain in your pajamas for an old copy of the Province for the classifieds to try and find an apartment you can purchase with navel lint and a green gummy bear that was stuck to your foot. Because you aren’t getting back into your apartment any time soon.
Yes, that’s me, Grave “Zero Sympathy” Keeper. I need that on a business card.
Again? But that trick never works.
SC: “Yeah, I’m locked out of my apartment.”
Oh ho, in pajamas?
Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t contact your property manager for a lock out.”
SC: “What? Isn’t this an emergency line?”
Me: “The property managers only take fires, floods or...dire injury...at this hour.”
SC: “Oh well there’s a HUGE flood here.”
Me: “…..Right....I can’t contact them for you.”
SC: “But I’m wounded!”
Me: "....."
I can’t help you, fudge monkey. Why don’t you go down to the lobby and help Miss Attitude find a new place to live. Since you both seem to have a lot of free time in your immediate future. You can huddle together for warmth and sleep in shifts so the wolves don’t get you and forage for food in the laundry room.
Argh.... -.-
Agreement
SC: “When would you be able to fix some broken tiles?”
Me: “Broken tiles? Ok, well I can notify the office in the morning-“
SC: “In the morning? Isn’t this your job?!”
Me: “This is the afterhours service. I can only pass along a emergencies to the on call.”
SC: “This is an emergency!”
Me: “…broken tiles?”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “I’ll call back in the morning.”
I’m glad we’ve come to a consensus on the stark unimportance of your problems to the rest of the world. You were a bit slow on the uptake, but unlike most of my callers, you actually came through in the end. Bravo.
Patience, Robin
SC: “I’m locked out. I uh, kinda drank too much and now I’m stuck outside.”
Me: “Alright, I’ll send the manager down.”
Moments later….
SC: “Are you coming down? I’m still locked out!”
Yes, yes you are. Do you know why that is? Because you called at 4:11am and its now 4:13am. Even if I had immediately flashed the Bat Signal into the sky, even the Dark Knight could not have descended on your location within the narrow time frame specified. Had you been not only locked out but also under duress at the hands of say, the Riddler, you would at this point be up a certain creek, without a paddle and undoubtedly with ravenous bears on either shore.
867
Me: “and what size would you like?”
SC: “White.”
Me: “Ok, but what size?”
SC: “…uh…white.”
Yes, we established colour. Unless the term white means something different where you are. Perhaps by “white” you mean “Oh god everything around me is white, it’s a vast never ending ocean of snow and ice therefore I shall name any and all large objects white to describe my inherent fear of their immense size and girth”. In which case, I will assume you want this jacket in 4XL.
What?
SC: “What’s the difference between Competitor A and Competitor B’s roofing?”
Nothing. They both suck. A makes their shingles out of the skin of newborn puppies and B’s roofing tiles cause herpes. So buy our roof. Seriously, what do you want me to say here? Oh hai! Hey, can you tell me which one of your competitor’s products I should buy? Kthxbye.
Hot Tips For America
I know we’re normally suppose to pass any “threats” on to the on call. However, I’m not particularly worried about the dire threat that is “If you don’t listen to me, you’ll be sorry, baby!”. Nor do I find reports of supposed terrorist movements that you learned off of ICQ chat while trying to pick up underage girls to be particularly reliable. Especially when your entire report consists of “They’re coming from south America!”. Duly noted. We’ll make sure to take a look out the window to the south every now and then and see if they’ve arrived yet.
We’ll keep you posted.
Why of course
SC: “Hey, if you get any rooms under $100 can you give me a call and let me know?”
Right. Can do. Anything else you’d like? Do you need me to order you pizza? Dry cleaning? Shall I personally fly there to gently dap away your precious tears with a silken handkerchief? Heck, this Las Vegas. I’m sure I could even find someone to come down to the airport and kiss everything better for you. Granted “her” name would be Bunny and “she” would probably be two inches taller then you and wear size 14 shoes.
Manners
“Thank you, afterhours service person.”
You’re welcome, calls in the middle of the night and bothers me for no good reason person.
You sir, have a problem
You have just ordered *24* lottery tickets. 24. That’s $1500 worth of tickets. Which means either A) You have a severe problem you need to come to grips with and seek help for or B) That credit card’s original owner is laying unconscious and bleeding in an alley or C) All of the above.
ONE DAY
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “A wha?”
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “Are you asking for my name?”
…no. Last I checked Canada had not yet been reduce to a dystopian future were people were assigned merely a number and branded like cattle before being sent off to the salt mines. Though it is a future I have warmly imagined more than a few times with regards to our customers. So hopefully some day when I ask the question “What is your customer ID number?” I will in fact mean your name. As I ask you from my black, cast iron throne at the seat of my vast, merciless dark empire before condemning you to a life of servitude in the salt mines. I’m not even sure if you can mine salt to be honest. But it won't stop me from pissing away decades of your life in the attempt.
SOON.
What?
Me: “And how did you hear about us?”
SC: “I don’t want to tell you my life story. Just have them call me.”
..your life story somehow revolves around how you heard about a roofing company? Were you born on our roofing system? Were you conceived on our roofing system? Did your mother have a drunken one night stand with our roofing system and end up bent over a dumpster with her skirt over her head? If so what colour and style of roof was it? Marketing needs to know.
Hey, he said it.
Me: “Alright, I’ll page the on call for you.”
SC: “Ok.”
Me: “…..”
SC: “…..”
SC: “Should I stay on the line or go away?”
Yes. Go away. Now. Faster.
Worst part is my mom still has the book...
SC: “Can I order a single ticket? Gonna win that house.”
Ah, the sweet naivety of childish dreams. When I was a kid I use to dream that I could teach a cat to drive a tank. Man, I drew it, coloured it, wrote an entire book about it and everything. It was all part of my master plan. Tanks first then we’d move on to fighter pilot training. Needless to say that ended up turning out just about as well as your lofty hopes are going too.
Still, they were some sweet drawings I tell ya. I was a crayon Jedi.
Responsibility
SC: “Let’s try my VISA card. I don’t know if it’ll work, I just booked a cruise.”
I have a term I’d like to introduce to you. It’s a rather big term, so you might want to grab some construction paper and a crayon. No, doesn’t matter what colour. Pick your favourite. Ok, ready? Let me introduce you to “Fiscal Responsibility”. I know he looks big and scary, but he really does have your best interests at heart. He doesn’t want to see you coming home from your cruise to find your car repossessed, an eviction notice on your door and all your crap in the street with your only option of getting any of it back being bent over a dumpster with your skirt hiked over your head by some guy named "Imitation Slate".
Dumpster banging makes Fiscal Responsibility sad. You wouldn’t want him to be sad, would you?
OBJECTION!
SC: “Yeah, <lawyer> is my lawyer and the cops like picked me up. I don’t know why they just came up behind me. They didn’t read me my rights or nothin’”
Yes, I’m sure they did. It was just completely out of left field. Had nothing to do with you driving erratically near <street> and blowing over on the breathalyzer.
Sadly, I was unable to contact his lawyer. Tragic I know. I informed him he'd have to wait till morning, but, well...
5 minutes later….
SC: “Um, hi, me again, so <lawyer> isn’t up yet?”
No, no he’s not. He wasn’t up when I called him 5 minutes ago and I doubt he’s up now. It’s 4 in the morning. You’re going to have to enjoy the cold cement, steel bars and uncomfortably friendly cell mate gently caressing your thigh for a while yet.
5 minutes later….
SC: “Hi again, um, so did you get a message to <lawyer>? I know you can’t give me any legal advice, but-“
He then proceeded to, of course, ask me for legal advice. He also inadvertently revealed that his entire understanding of the legal system seems to have been based on largely reruns of Hawaii 5-0. Whereas my entire understanding of the legal system is based mainly on Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. There’s no telling what sort of crazed plan of action would come about if I had conceded to share my knowledge with him and combined these two tragically misguided legal minds.
SC: “Ok, sorry, I won’t call again. Thanks.”
Oh you do so make my little heart go pitterpat with your sweet talk. Promise?
SC: “Hi, so um, do I just have to wait here till <lawyer> gets up?”
Liar! LIAR! How could you just play with a young girl's heart like that?!
I'm not sure what kind of work he wanted to do for me...
SC: “I want to come work for you.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “I want to work for you.”
Me: “You’ll have to call during the day for employment inquiries.”
SC: “Ok, I’ll do that. Thank you, baby!”
An unsettling enough comment on the surface. When you factor in that it was being delivered by a middle aged east Indian man it becomes even more surreal and more than a tad creepy.
Of course
SC: “I need a hotel room here in….uh…..here.”
Ah yes, Here. I’ve been there before. You know, Here, not There, I mean, I’ve been there as in Here. As in where you are there, except it’s Here, but not here, I’m here, you’re there, as in Here. I’ve been there. There at Here even though I’m here……..er….what the hell are we talking about again?
867
Me: “and your postal code please?”
SC: “XXX XP?X”
Me: “P as in Peter or T as in Tom?”
SC: “Yeah.”
No. That response is invalid. I presented you with two very clear, easy to understand options. You must pick one or we cannot move on in this journey of painful self discovery. If you like you can use one of your lifelines to call a friend or ask the audience, but you must answer this question if you wish to make it to the next round and draw ever closer to the prize that is precious precious pants.
867
According to my catalog, the shoes you just ordered came in the colour “Wheat & Chocolate”. Yes, that’s right, wheat and chocolate. For when “brown” just doesn’t sound edible enough. Because if there’s anything footwear should give off, it’s the impression of being edible.
Yes, I get it.
SC: “It’s Blainhamming. B as is Bob. L as in Linda, A as in Apple, I as in Ingrid, N as in Nancy, H as in Harry, E as in Edward-“
Oh oh, I wanna play too! S as in Sam, H as in Harry, U as in Umbrella, T as in Tom, T as in Tom, H as in Harry, E as in Edward, H as in Henry, E as in Edward, L as in Linda, L as in Linda, U as in Umbrella, P as in Peter.
Just a Little Effort
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
SC: “Oh yes. But not in front of me.”
Then may I suggest taking whatever measures you require to change your orientation so it is in front of you? I’m not asking for much. Just the tiniest bit of effort on your part so we can make this call go faster for both of us. I for one don’t want to speak you any longer then I have to and I’m sure actually having to use your mouth to talk is keeping you away from the dire consumption of fudge and/or aerosol cheese that helps you forgot how sad your life is. So, please, if you could just turn your head, or your waist, or even all the way around so that you are facing your ID number it would be very much appreciated. Hell, do you have a rotating office chair? Then just dock your quivering ass cheeks with it and summon a friend, family member or even the pizza guy to come spin you in the appropriate direction.
Zero
( This is a dire emergency line. Fire, Flood or DEATH only. yes, it actually says death. She's suppose to call her manager. )
Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t contact the property manager for a lock out-“
SC: “Fine, I guess me having to sleep in the lobby in my pajamas isn’t an emergency! I’ll be buying a new apartment tomorrow! Bye!”
I’m sure you will. But you’ll have to do it by digging through trash cans at the Skytrain in your pajamas for an old copy of the Province for the classifieds to try and find an apartment you can purchase with navel lint and a green gummy bear that was stuck to your foot. Because you aren’t getting back into your apartment any time soon.
Yes, that’s me, Grave “Zero Sympathy” Keeper. I need that on a business card.
Again? But that trick never works.
SC: “Yeah, I’m locked out of my apartment.”
Oh ho, in pajamas?
Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t contact your property manager for a lock out.”
SC: “What? Isn’t this an emergency line?”
Me: “The property managers only take fires, floods or...dire injury...at this hour.”
SC: “Oh well there’s a HUGE flood here.”
Me: “…..Right....I can’t contact them for you.”
SC: “But I’m wounded!”
Me: "....."
I can’t help you, fudge monkey. Why don’t you go down to the lobby and help Miss Attitude find a new place to live. Since you both seem to have a lot of free time in your immediate future. You can huddle together for warmth and sleep in shifts so the wolves don’t get you and forage for food in the laundry room.
Argh.... -.-
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