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Yuletide Misery
Merry Fricken' Christmas. This is how my Christmas Eve went....
But first, to an unspecified company: Don't you think putting a sales dead line to order by on midnight Christmas eve is a bit....I dunno....dickish? You know we have to pull in extra staff whenever you do this and everyone else has to extend there shifts. I'm sure that extra staff and the evening would really like to be at home for Christmas before midnight.
Dark Powers
Me: “Alright, and what’s your postal code please?”
SC: “Damn. Now you’ve got me.”
Yes, I’m wily and tricksome like that. I mean, you never would have suspected that I would ask for your mailing address when you were calling to order something that needs to be physically mailed to you. So this was just totally out of left field. I know. I mean, I was surprised I even had to ask because normally we don’t do anything of the sort. They just have me keep my headset and my grimoire in my locker and leave a small supply of fresh goat’s blood in the fridge for us. Typically, I’m ready to divine any sort of information I need too if you can give me long enough to finger paint the appropriate mystical inscriptions upon my desk.
But, you know, what with flu season and all we have to be extra diligent in cleaning down our work stations for germs. So unfortunately my powers are waning somewhat due to Lysol disinfectant wipes.
I GOTZ RIGHTS~
Now, I’m no criminal mastermind or anything but I did play enough cops & robbers as a child to grasp the basic concept that the whole idea of being a successful criminal is to not get caught. Therefore even at the tender age of 5 if I was said robber it would have set off alarm bells in my head to walk up to a large group of uniformed officers and voluntarily give them my ID and allow them to search me and my vehicle. But perhaps I was ahead of the curve as a child. Since this guy did just that despite the fact he has several outstanding warrants in Canada.
I mean seriously, dude, think this through a minute. If you have a bunch of outstanding warrants in Canada maybe it’s not a good idea to walk up to our border and hand your ID to the border guards? Than actually become indignant when they arrest you ( Durrr ) and call Amerka ( Ironically helmed by a Canadian ) for assistance? That’s my favourite part. Zomigawd! How dare you arrest me for committing crimes in your country! I'M AN AMERKAN~ I GOTZ RIGHTS~
I'm paraphrasing of course.
<sob>
Oh come on. Its 12:30am on Christmas Day. Can you at least just spare me this one day of the year? Pretty please? I know Christmas may not seem that special to you guys since you’re far enough north to physically drop your letters to Santa into his mailbox yourselves. But I’m not so lucky and, much like Saint Nick, I must toil through the evening to dole out happiness to children of questionable merit. So please, do me a favour. Save your need for pants till Boxing Day at least?
SC: “I wanna order xxxx”
Ugh. Very well. If I must.
Me: “Hmm, xxxx?”
SC:" “Yeah.”
Me: “I don’t seem to have that in my catalog here. Which catalog are you looking at?”
SC: “Uhhh….<company>.”
Me: “Ok, but which one?”
SC: “Umm….2007?”
Ah ha! A clue, Sherlock. The reason I don’t have it is because it no longer exists. Nor can I conjure its existence or command a small unpaid workforce of elves to construct it for you. So you are, as they say, SOL.
But hey, Merry Christmas!
Yeah, and?
SC: “Hi, I just wanted to order some blah blah snarffle. Am I still in time for the contest deadline?”
Me: “Unfortunately it’s an hour and a half past midnight now. So the deadline has already gone by.”
SC: “But I’m in Hawaii! It isn’t midnight here yet!”
Congratulations. That’s the most idiotic statement anyone has uttered to me so far this evening. Though the night is still young. But still, there are so many obvious flaws with that statement I’m surprised it even made it to your mouth. Even if your brain didn’t catch it you’d think at least your larynx or your tongue or something would instinctively seize up upon sensing an imminent evolutionary step backwards.
It clearly states that non-residents aren't even eligible for the contest anyway. Just to add an additional algae like layer to your failure.
Mhmmm....Corn Flakes
Me: “Good evening, <company>. Are you calling for a hotel room?”
SC: “Oh hi, I’m trying to rebook my flight, but with a different airline. Do you have a number for them?”
Me: “No, sorry. We only do hotel reservations here so I don’t have airline numbers or flight information.”
SC: “Oh, ok. Well do you have the number for Air Canada?”
Strangely enough, Air Canada qualifies as an airline and I believe I’ve already fielded that question.
Me: "Sorry, I don’t have any numbers for the airlines. We only do hotel reservations so I only really have hotel numbers.”
SC: “Oh, ok. Well, thanks anyway.....for nothing Merry Christmas! <click>”
Oh oh ho. Someone’s corn flakes have a distinct aftertaste of urine from an unknown perpetrator this morning. I know it sucks to be stuck in an airport for Christmas eve but evidently you haven’t turned on a TV or read a newspaper in 3 weeks or even glanced out the window there and noticed that, yet again, another plane ( US Airways this time! ) has skidded off the runway due to the weather. ( It didn’t burst into flames this time. But hey, as I said, the night is young. ) Otherwise you would not have attempted to travel in these conditions and would not have ended up speaking with me on a line that you knew was the wrong number to begin with.
I know it sucks being stuck in an airport for Christmas eve. But you know what? It kinda sucks having to be here in case you’re stuck there for Christmas too. So perhaps a little mutual understanding is in order instead of abject dickishness?
Ugh.
Its 5 minutes to the contest deadline and there are 30 calls in queue. You waited on hold for 15 minutes to get through to me. Why? To get on the draw? No, no, that would make sense. You just wanted to check how many snarffles you ordered when you called earlier at an unspecified time at some point today. You offered no other clue beyond a generic last name: “Brown”. No time span in which to search. No first name to narrow it down. Just a single vague clue and sent me on my way.
No real hints. No direction. Not even a “Its dangerous to go alone. Take this.” followed by pro-offered armament.
So why o why did you deem this so important to clog up our already strained lines with a stupid question when there are tens of others vying for a spot that actually want to order? Well, because when you placed the order you “made a joke” to the operator about the number of snaffles you wanted and just wanted to make sure “She didn’t take it seriously”. The feeble thought “Hey wait, she didn’t really think I wanted like 1000 snarffles did she?” didn’t tickle your shriveled gray matter until 5 hours after the fact either.
To answer your question: No, she didn’t really think you wanted 1000 seeing as that would cost $100,000 and likely raise a few alarm bells. Please do not make the mistake of thinking our staff is as stupid or gullible as you are. We’re actually a fairly keen lot if I do say so myself.
In Case of Emergency
Me: “Ok, and your postal code please?”
SC: “OH MY GOD!”
! What!? Where?!
Me: “?!”
SC: “I don’t know it at all.”
Oh, er….um. Hm. That seems like a slight overreaction on your part. Usually when you start a sentence with an alarmed screech of “OH MY GOD” you follow it up with “ITS COMING RIGHT FOR US” or “ITS EATING MY LEG MEATS” not “I don’t know my own postal code.”. I can’t imagine what your reaction to a real crisis would be. You’d probably just emit a high pitch squeal and vibrate for 15 seconds or so till your nose started bleeding and you slumped over and twitched.
Chariot
Me: “Alright, you should receive your tickets in about 1-2 weeks-“
SC: “Great, thanks. Good luck!”
Er…I do believe that’s my line is it not? I am not the one that requires additional luck. You are. You are the one that has just bet $500 on a vast game of chance against miserable, miserable odds. If you haven’t noticed we’re selling 118,000ish tickets. You should take a moment and really, deeply consider the actual odds of you obtaining any measure of success from this financial venture. Now take another moment to apply this realization to not only do you have to win, but you must win an object worth more than $500 to justify your initial investment. Now, on top of that, consider that you may still win a prize you may not even want.
Such as one of our fine electric scooters. Because really, what better way to get around the lower mainland than by straddling the mighty power of a lawnmower engine astride two golf cart wheels and putting your life in the hands of a mere bicycle helmet. In the middle of a city where even the most competent driver drives like they have a .09% blood alcohol content if so much as a drop of water hits their windshield. I mean this is a city where drivers, much like naked mole rats, are only alerted to the presence of obstacles ( Cars, dividers, pedestrians, stripmalls, etc ) by touch rather than sight or sound.
But hey, if you get bored with leisurely walking down the road of life and decide you need to start putting along towards death at a brisk 50km/h atop your plug in chariot who am I to argue?
Awesuck
A grocery store exploded in North Van tonight due to snow. Which, despite the thousands of dollars in damage it must have cost, would admitted be pretty cool to see. Basically the weight of the snow on the roof made the entire roof collapse and the sudden introduction of several hundred kilos of winter sugar into the store space made all the windows explode outwards in a symphony of snowy winter magic and stabbity bits.
So like I said, it sucks, yet at the same time it’s kind of awesome. Like….awesuck.
Clearly, its monsters.
SC: “The sink is all backed up and I don’t know what to do! It took about an hour to drain!”
Me: “Ok, well I can let the maintenance guy know-“
SC: “I’m afraid it’s just going to EXPLODE or something!”
Me: “…well if the pipes freeze it might rupture. But it’s probably just backed up. I’ll let the maintenance guy know.”
SC: “I’m AFRAID OF PLUMBING.”
Easy there, Marsha. I know “Hollow tube through which liquid flows” is a difficult, even terrifying concept but there’s no need for alarm. Your sink is probably just backed up a bit since its still draining, albeit slowly, and you live in an apartment building so it’s unlikely the pipes are frozen or explody as I have gotten no other calls from that building along the lines of “THE LOBBY IS A RIVER OF COLD”. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The plumbing won’t hurt you. It’s actually rather benign and not really capable of malevolence in any form. Let alone locomotion. If it begins making strange, hostile noises, just run to another room. It can’t chase you. It may attempt to drown you granted, but such attacks are rare and never meet with any real measure of success.
I Can Wait
Me: “Do you have your customer ID number?”
SC: “Oh, yeah. But it’s in my mailbox.”
It’s still in your mailbox? Weren’t those mailed out like three months ago? Plus you seem aware that it’s in your mailbox. Which means you’ve actually looked, spotted it, but neglected to bring it into the warmth of your home. For 3 months. Why is that exactly? Do you try to leave one piece of mail in your mailbox at all times so when you come home it always looks like you have new mail and you feel special and loved? Or is it the weather? Now, I know it hasn’t snowed here in like what, a year? So you may not remember what that strange, white powdery substance outside is. But it’s ok. Its harmless. Just walk through it. It possesses no inherent power for good nor evil. It is not toxic, nor poisonous ( Well, just avoid the yellow kind ) but nor is it manna from Heaven or the dandruff of Jehova. It is merely snow. It cannot harm you. Directly anyhow.
So why don’t you go put your little booties and pull up your novelty boxer shorts that play Come All Ye Faithful with you yank your crotch and go wade through the snow bank and get your accursed customer ID number and make this easier on both of us. Well, primarily just me. But still. Get out in that snow, boy. Mush, mongloid, mush.
Temporal Loop
Numbnuts at the <pizza place> had a storefront window broken this evening. But he did not like our minimum call out rates to repair it. An hour later…he called back again. But….he did not like our minimum call out rates. A couple hours later he called again…this time....he did not like our minimum call out rates. An hour later he call <another company we handle> because he did not like our minimum call out rates. Half an hour after that he called <other company> again because he did not like our minimum call out rates.
Every time he called he seemed to possess no knowledge of his previous calls and repeated the exact same conversation from the previous calls. So apparently not only does Numbnuts not like our minimum call out rates but he also has the short term memory of a gold fish or is trapped in some sort of odd yuletide version of Groundhog Day.
One Day....
Me: “Good evening, <company> Emergency Line”
SC: “I’m sorry! <click>”
Not yet you’re not. But when I find you than oh yes. You will be. Oh yes……er…I mean. No problem.
There's moar but this as much as I gotten written up before departing. I shall return tomorrow ith more possible. >.>
But first, to an unspecified company: Don't you think putting a sales dead line to order by on midnight Christmas eve is a bit....I dunno....dickish? You know we have to pull in extra staff whenever you do this and everyone else has to extend there shifts. I'm sure that extra staff and the evening would really like to be at home for Christmas before midnight.
Dark Powers
Me: “Alright, and what’s your postal code please?”
SC: “Damn. Now you’ve got me.”
Yes, I’m wily and tricksome like that. I mean, you never would have suspected that I would ask for your mailing address when you were calling to order something that needs to be physically mailed to you. So this was just totally out of left field. I know. I mean, I was surprised I even had to ask because normally we don’t do anything of the sort. They just have me keep my headset and my grimoire in my locker and leave a small supply of fresh goat’s blood in the fridge for us. Typically, I’m ready to divine any sort of information I need too if you can give me long enough to finger paint the appropriate mystical inscriptions upon my desk.
But, you know, what with flu season and all we have to be extra diligent in cleaning down our work stations for germs. So unfortunately my powers are waning somewhat due to Lysol disinfectant wipes.
I GOTZ RIGHTS~
Now, I’m no criminal mastermind or anything but I did play enough cops & robbers as a child to grasp the basic concept that the whole idea of being a successful criminal is to not get caught. Therefore even at the tender age of 5 if I was said robber it would have set off alarm bells in my head to walk up to a large group of uniformed officers and voluntarily give them my ID and allow them to search me and my vehicle. But perhaps I was ahead of the curve as a child. Since this guy did just that despite the fact he has several outstanding warrants in Canada.
I mean seriously, dude, think this through a minute. If you have a bunch of outstanding warrants in Canada maybe it’s not a good idea to walk up to our border and hand your ID to the border guards? Than actually become indignant when they arrest you ( Durrr ) and call Amerka ( Ironically helmed by a Canadian ) for assistance? That’s my favourite part. Zomigawd! How dare you arrest me for committing crimes in your country! I'M AN AMERKAN~ I GOTZ RIGHTS~
I'm paraphrasing of course.
<sob>
Oh come on. Its 12:30am on Christmas Day. Can you at least just spare me this one day of the year? Pretty please? I know Christmas may not seem that special to you guys since you’re far enough north to physically drop your letters to Santa into his mailbox yourselves. But I’m not so lucky and, much like Saint Nick, I must toil through the evening to dole out happiness to children of questionable merit. So please, do me a favour. Save your need for pants till Boxing Day at least?
SC: “I wanna order xxxx”
Ugh. Very well. If I must.
Me: “Hmm, xxxx?”
SC:" “Yeah.”
Me: “I don’t seem to have that in my catalog here. Which catalog are you looking at?”
SC: “Uhhh….<company>.”
Me: “Ok, but which one?”
SC: “Umm….2007?”
Ah ha! A clue, Sherlock. The reason I don’t have it is because it no longer exists. Nor can I conjure its existence or command a small unpaid workforce of elves to construct it for you. So you are, as they say, SOL.
But hey, Merry Christmas!
Yeah, and?
SC: “Hi, I just wanted to order some blah blah snarffle. Am I still in time for the contest deadline?”
Me: “Unfortunately it’s an hour and a half past midnight now. So the deadline has already gone by.”
SC: “But I’m in Hawaii! It isn’t midnight here yet!”
Congratulations. That’s the most idiotic statement anyone has uttered to me so far this evening. Though the night is still young. But still, there are so many obvious flaws with that statement I’m surprised it even made it to your mouth. Even if your brain didn’t catch it you’d think at least your larynx or your tongue or something would instinctively seize up upon sensing an imminent evolutionary step backwards.
It clearly states that non-residents aren't even eligible for the contest anyway. Just to add an additional algae like layer to your failure.
Mhmmm....Corn Flakes
Me: “Good evening, <company>. Are you calling for a hotel room?”
SC: “Oh hi, I’m trying to rebook my flight, but with a different airline. Do you have a number for them?”
Me: “No, sorry. We only do hotel reservations here so I don’t have airline numbers or flight information.”
SC: “Oh, ok. Well do you have the number for Air Canada?”
Strangely enough, Air Canada qualifies as an airline and I believe I’ve already fielded that question.
Me: "Sorry, I don’t have any numbers for the airlines. We only do hotel reservations so I only really have hotel numbers.”
SC: “Oh, ok. Well, thanks anyway.....for nothing Merry Christmas! <click>”
Oh oh ho. Someone’s corn flakes have a distinct aftertaste of urine from an unknown perpetrator this morning. I know it sucks to be stuck in an airport for Christmas eve but evidently you haven’t turned on a TV or read a newspaper in 3 weeks or even glanced out the window there and noticed that, yet again, another plane ( US Airways this time! ) has skidded off the runway due to the weather. ( It didn’t burst into flames this time. But hey, as I said, the night is young. ) Otherwise you would not have attempted to travel in these conditions and would not have ended up speaking with me on a line that you knew was the wrong number to begin with.
I know it sucks being stuck in an airport for Christmas eve. But you know what? It kinda sucks having to be here in case you’re stuck there for Christmas too. So perhaps a little mutual understanding is in order instead of abject dickishness?
Ugh.
Its 5 minutes to the contest deadline and there are 30 calls in queue. You waited on hold for 15 minutes to get through to me. Why? To get on the draw? No, no, that would make sense. You just wanted to check how many snarffles you ordered when you called earlier at an unspecified time at some point today. You offered no other clue beyond a generic last name: “Brown”. No time span in which to search. No first name to narrow it down. Just a single vague clue and sent me on my way.
No real hints. No direction. Not even a “Its dangerous to go alone. Take this.” followed by pro-offered armament.
So why o why did you deem this so important to clog up our already strained lines with a stupid question when there are tens of others vying for a spot that actually want to order? Well, because when you placed the order you “made a joke” to the operator about the number of snaffles you wanted and just wanted to make sure “She didn’t take it seriously”. The feeble thought “Hey wait, she didn’t really think I wanted like 1000 snarffles did she?” didn’t tickle your shriveled gray matter until 5 hours after the fact either.
To answer your question: No, she didn’t really think you wanted 1000 seeing as that would cost $100,000 and likely raise a few alarm bells. Please do not make the mistake of thinking our staff is as stupid or gullible as you are. We’re actually a fairly keen lot if I do say so myself.
In Case of Emergency
Me: “Ok, and your postal code please?”
SC: “OH MY GOD!”
! What!? Where?!
Me: “?!”
SC: “I don’t know it at all.”
Oh, er….um. Hm. That seems like a slight overreaction on your part. Usually when you start a sentence with an alarmed screech of “OH MY GOD” you follow it up with “ITS COMING RIGHT FOR US” or “ITS EATING MY LEG MEATS” not “I don’t know my own postal code.”. I can’t imagine what your reaction to a real crisis would be. You’d probably just emit a high pitch squeal and vibrate for 15 seconds or so till your nose started bleeding and you slumped over and twitched.
Chariot
Me: “Alright, you should receive your tickets in about 1-2 weeks-“
SC: “Great, thanks. Good luck!”
Er…I do believe that’s my line is it not? I am not the one that requires additional luck. You are. You are the one that has just bet $500 on a vast game of chance against miserable, miserable odds. If you haven’t noticed we’re selling 118,000ish tickets. You should take a moment and really, deeply consider the actual odds of you obtaining any measure of success from this financial venture. Now take another moment to apply this realization to not only do you have to win, but you must win an object worth more than $500 to justify your initial investment. Now, on top of that, consider that you may still win a prize you may not even want.
Such as one of our fine electric scooters. Because really, what better way to get around the lower mainland than by straddling the mighty power of a lawnmower engine astride two golf cart wheels and putting your life in the hands of a mere bicycle helmet. In the middle of a city where even the most competent driver drives like they have a .09% blood alcohol content if so much as a drop of water hits their windshield. I mean this is a city where drivers, much like naked mole rats, are only alerted to the presence of obstacles ( Cars, dividers, pedestrians, stripmalls, etc ) by touch rather than sight or sound.
But hey, if you get bored with leisurely walking down the road of life and decide you need to start putting along towards death at a brisk 50km/h atop your plug in chariot who am I to argue?
Awesuck
A grocery store exploded in North Van tonight due to snow. Which, despite the thousands of dollars in damage it must have cost, would admitted be pretty cool to see. Basically the weight of the snow on the roof made the entire roof collapse and the sudden introduction of several hundred kilos of winter sugar into the store space made all the windows explode outwards in a symphony of snowy winter magic and stabbity bits.
So like I said, it sucks, yet at the same time it’s kind of awesome. Like….awesuck.
Clearly, its monsters.
SC: “The sink is all backed up and I don’t know what to do! It took about an hour to drain!”
Me: “Ok, well I can let the maintenance guy know-“
SC: “I’m afraid it’s just going to EXPLODE or something!”
Me: “…well if the pipes freeze it might rupture. But it’s probably just backed up. I’ll let the maintenance guy know.”
SC: “I’m AFRAID OF PLUMBING.”
Easy there, Marsha. I know “Hollow tube through which liquid flows” is a difficult, even terrifying concept but there’s no need for alarm. Your sink is probably just backed up a bit since its still draining, albeit slowly, and you live in an apartment building so it’s unlikely the pipes are frozen or explody as I have gotten no other calls from that building along the lines of “THE LOBBY IS A RIVER OF COLD”. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The plumbing won’t hurt you. It’s actually rather benign and not really capable of malevolence in any form. Let alone locomotion. If it begins making strange, hostile noises, just run to another room. It can’t chase you. It may attempt to drown you granted, but such attacks are rare and never meet with any real measure of success.
I Can Wait
Me: “Do you have your customer ID number?”
SC: “Oh, yeah. But it’s in my mailbox.”
It’s still in your mailbox? Weren’t those mailed out like three months ago? Plus you seem aware that it’s in your mailbox. Which means you’ve actually looked, spotted it, but neglected to bring it into the warmth of your home. For 3 months. Why is that exactly? Do you try to leave one piece of mail in your mailbox at all times so when you come home it always looks like you have new mail and you feel special and loved? Or is it the weather? Now, I know it hasn’t snowed here in like what, a year? So you may not remember what that strange, white powdery substance outside is. But it’s ok. Its harmless. Just walk through it. It possesses no inherent power for good nor evil. It is not toxic, nor poisonous ( Well, just avoid the yellow kind ) but nor is it manna from Heaven or the dandruff of Jehova. It is merely snow. It cannot harm you. Directly anyhow.
So why don’t you go put your little booties and pull up your novelty boxer shorts that play Come All Ye Faithful with you yank your crotch and go wade through the snow bank and get your accursed customer ID number and make this easier on both of us. Well, primarily just me. But still. Get out in that snow, boy. Mush, mongloid, mush.
Temporal Loop
Numbnuts at the <pizza place> had a storefront window broken this evening. But he did not like our minimum call out rates to repair it. An hour later…he called back again. But….he did not like our minimum call out rates. A couple hours later he called again…this time....he did not like our minimum call out rates. An hour later he call <another company we handle> because he did not like our minimum call out rates. Half an hour after that he called <other company> again because he did not like our minimum call out rates.
Every time he called he seemed to possess no knowledge of his previous calls and repeated the exact same conversation from the previous calls. So apparently not only does Numbnuts not like our minimum call out rates but he also has the short term memory of a gold fish or is trapped in some sort of odd yuletide version of Groundhog Day.
One Day....
Me: “Good evening, <company> Emergency Line”
SC: “I’m sorry! <click>”
Not yet you’re not. But when I find you than oh yes. You will be. Oh yes……er…I mean. No problem.
There's moar but this as much as I gotten written up before departing. I shall return tomorrow ith more possible. >.>
Yes postal codes get hungry like that 
just about summed up my reaction.
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