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So yesterday wasn't quite full moon crazy but it came damn close. It seemed most like senior citizens needing meds adjusted day. Typically around the holidays these types of seniors come out the most. Most of the convos I had went like this....
Shatter my ear drum, will ya?
SC - 'How much is your cheapest arrangement for the holidays'
Me - 'Forty bucks'
SC - 'WHAAAATTTTT!! That's OUT-RAG-GEOUSS!!' followed by a 'click' since I like preserving what little hearing I have left and I don't feel the need to be subjected to a ten minute treatise on how you could get a bunch of roses during the depression for three nickels and a bag of onions, provided that the Kaiser didn't steal your onions.
Free? I don't think so?
The other half of the suck du suck would get all the way to the final page with me where I told them how much it was with taxes and delivery and freak out over the delivery rates. Granted, it ain't cheap but we're a good five to twenty five dollars cheaper than our competitors so when I get the shrieking in my ear at full volume I like to point out that florist STD is going to charge them a 35 buck delivery fee for that same item on the same day. This is always followed by a 'click
The suck follows from job to J-O-B
I even had cross-company suckage. The craziest customer from the clinic I was a social worker at for a couple of years called to order flowers. My jaw dropped when she said her name and gave me her addy. The last time I'd seen the 86 year old queen of crazeeeeee she was pulling down her purple satin stretch pants and granny panties in the middle of the clinic to show us her ass, claiming some sort of bug bites or rash or something, showing everyone in the waiting room what looked like a topographical map of the Grand Canyon rendered in flesh while she scratched the crawling critters under her matching purple satin turban. That day I wrote her family a report summarizing that I felt she was too senile to care for herself.
So here we are, brand new day, different place of employment and the same old level of batshit crazy. It took me a good twenty five minutes to get through her order because she kept stopping to ramble about government mind control, how it's a government conspiracy that the beer bottles are getting shorter, the in full details of the birth and delivery of her daughter on Christmas Day and how the Kaiser is stealing her onions and nickels. After finishing that marathon of crazy I had to go get a knock of spiked egg nog from my fridge to finish out the work day.
Put down that crack pipe or drunk dialing for flowers
I got a few calsl in mid afternoon from the same number that was just heavy breathing. Thinking it's a perv getting his/her/its jollies I keep disconnecting. Finally the number rings about the twentieth time and a frantic voice screams out that we've ruined her life for all time and eternity before going into a unibomber style ranting without taking a breath. It spills out that we're ruined her life because her fiance is leaving for Iraq in twenty minutes and the roses, chocolates, balloons, teddy bears and fruit basket she ordered to be delivered haven't arrived yet. I pull her order and take a look, thinking she sounds, uh, erm, high or drunk. I get back on the line and tell her that she never requested timed delivery but to give me a phone number and I'd call the florist and call her right back.
So I call the florist shop, and a girl there puts the owner on the line. The owner tells me she personally delivered it an hour ago, it's sitting on the front step of the house and it's right across the street, she can literally look out of the front window of the shop and see it still sitting there. Then she tells me that the customer is well known in their neighborhood as a drunk and a crackhead who pulls the craziest of stunts so not to listen to too many of her tales. Says when she went to do the delivery personally there in South Florida the front door was open and she could see the customer through the screen door passed out drunk on the floor so she rang the bell and left the crap on the steps.
Unbeknownest to me Crackhead Lady has started to call everyones lines at work and shriek about her life being ruined before hanging up without giving anyone any real info. Before I can call her back to let her know the stuff is on the steps she rings me again and I tell her just that after I talk over her ranting shouting insano dialoguing. She shuts up long enough to say, 'Oh!' sets the phone down and goes to the door. I hear fumbling and dragging and shit and she comes back to tell me it's all there, click.
I chuckle, have another knock of egg nog and scotch and wonder why she ordered all this crap for a man going to the airport to fly out to Iraq in a few minutes, it's not like the airlines are going to allow him to bring ANY of it on the plane.
Shatter my ear drum, will ya?
SC - 'How much is your cheapest arrangement for the holidays'
Me - 'Forty bucks'
SC - 'WHAAAATTTTT!! That's OUT-RAG-GEOUSS!!' followed by a 'click' since I like preserving what little hearing I have left and I don't feel the need to be subjected to a ten minute treatise on how you could get a bunch of roses during the depression for three nickels and a bag of onions, provided that the Kaiser didn't steal your onions.
Free? I don't think so?
The other half of the suck du suck would get all the way to the final page with me where I told them how much it was with taxes and delivery and freak out over the delivery rates. Granted, it ain't cheap but we're a good five to twenty five dollars cheaper than our competitors so when I get the shrieking in my ear at full volume I like to point out that florist STD is going to charge them a 35 buck delivery fee for that same item on the same day. This is always followed by a 'click
The suck follows from job to J-O-B
I even had cross-company suckage. The craziest customer from the clinic I was a social worker at for a couple of years called to order flowers. My jaw dropped when she said her name and gave me her addy. The last time I'd seen the 86 year old queen of crazeeeeee she was pulling down her purple satin stretch pants and granny panties in the middle of the clinic to show us her ass, claiming some sort of bug bites or rash or something, showing everyone in the waiting room what looked like a topographical map of the Grand Canyon rendered in flesh while she scratched the crawling critters under her matching purple satin turban. That day I wrote her family a report summarizing that I felt she was too senile to care for herself.
So here we are, brand new day, different place of employment and the same old level of batshit crazy. It took me a good twenty five minutes to get through her order because she kept stopping to ramble about government mind control, how it's a government conspiracy that the beer bottles are getting shorter, the in full details of the birth and delivery of her daughter on Christmas Day and how the Kaiser is stealing her onions and nickels. After finishing that marathon of crazy I had to go get a knock of spiked egg nog from my fridge to finish out the work day.
Put down that crack pipe or drunk dialing for flowers
I got a few calsl in mid afternoon from the same number that was just heavy breathing. Thinking it's a perv getting his/her/its jollies I keep disconnecting. Finally the number rings about the twentieth time and a frantic voice screams out that we've ruined her life for all time and eternity before going into a unibomber style ranting without taking a breath. It spills out that we're ruined her life because her fiance is leaving for Iraq in twenty minutes and the roses, chocolates, balloons, teddy bears and fruit basket she ordered to be delivered haven't arrived yet. I pull her order and take a look, thinking she sounds, uh, erm, high or drunk. I get back on the line and tell her that she never requested timed delivery but to give me a phone number and I'd call the florist and call her right back.
So I call the florist shop, and a girl there puts the owner on the line. The owner tells me she personally delivered it an hour ago, it's sitting on the front step of the house and it's right across the street, she can literally look out of the front window of the shop and see it still sitting there. Then she tells me that the customer is well known in their neighborhood as a drunk and a crackhead who pulls the craziest of stunts so not to listen to too many of her tales. Says when she went to do the delivery personally there in South Florida the front door was open and she could see the customer through the screen door passed out drunk on the floor so she rang the bell and left the crap on the steps.
Unbeknownest to me Crackhead Lady has started to call everyones lines at work and shriek about her life being ruined before hanging up without giving anyone any real info. Before I can call her back to let her know the stuff is on the steps she rings me again and I tell her just that after I talk over her ranting shouting insano dialoguing. She shuts up long enough to say, 'Oh!' sets the phone down and goes to the door. I hear fumbling and dragging and shit and she comes back to tell me it's all there, click.
I chuckle, have another knock of egg nog and scotch and wonder why she ordered all this crap for a man going to the airport to fly out to Iraq in a few minutes, it's not like the airlines are going to allow him to bring ANY of it on the plane.
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