Tweet
My yuletide work week finally comes to a close. Between the rampant stupidity, assjamming call volume due to the weather and 45-60 minutes trudging through 2-3 feet of snow and ice every day just to get there I'm about ready to slump over and perish. Twitching.
The only upside is now I should have New Years off so I have a bit of an extended rest period this week. But before I collapse into it and begin to ferment here is the final chapter...
Somewhere On This Site is a Desk Clerk with a Story
SC: “Yes, I’m an American citizen and I’m calling from the <company> Hotel”
Hrm, ok? I’m already sensing that you’re leaning away from one of the Big Three issues that I can assist you with. Since you are not in jail, laying in a pool of your own life giving fluids or dead in a pool of your own life giving fluids. Those are really the only three options to be honest. You have to be behind bars, bleeding or have just finished bleeding. I believe the recording explains to ye these options three before you pressed the number for the emergency line.
SC: “They’re telling me to leave and they’ve called the cops on me because I refused!”
Er…ooook…and? I do not yet see the crucial flaw in your situation that would require me to exercise the vast power I hold. What utterly buttholish thing did you do to make them throw you out, anyway? You really need to pull off an admirable feat of jackassery to get thrown out of a hotel at 1:30am in this weather.
SC: “Can they do that!? Don’t they need a court order or something?!”
….hahaha, what? No. You have a somewhat flawed grasp of the law. They are not executing a search warrant. Merely telling you: “Hey, you suck so much it’s not even worth the money to allow you to stay here”. Ponder that a moment. You are so unlikable that you cannot even pay them to put up with you. Man, what did you do anyway? Now I’m curious.
Me: “Well no, if they’ve asked you to leave, than you have to leave.”
SC: “What?! But I’m staying here! I’m an American citizen and you’re saying they can just call the cops on me and have them take me away?”
Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. But please, keep ranting. The more indignant you become over this the more pleasure I derive from refusing refusing to help you. I know, I know, there’s probably something wrong with me. But seeing as your parents never told you “No! BAD!” it’s all up to me now and I must make them proud.
Me: “If they’ve asked you to leave, you will have to leave. They have the right to refuse you service.”
SC: “Are you serious?! Even if my kids are asleep?!”
…yes, I’m serious and no you don’t get to ignore the law based on slumbering offspring. You screwed up somehow and it must have been rather spectacular. I mean they’re throwing you out. So pull up your big boy undies and deal with it. If your family is upset about it than well, hey, guess whose fault it is?
Me: “Yes. If they’ve asked you to leave, you have to leave. It’s a place of business and private property. This isn’t something I can help you with.”
SC: “But I’m American! You’re saying they can just take me away in handcuffs!? My family is asleep and we fly out tomorrow and no one can drive anywhere! The manager here just told me “I want you out of my hotel”.”
Good for him. Yet you keep coming back to your country of origin for some reason? You realize it’s utterly irrelevant right? Despite what you seem to think being American does not automatically grant you diplomatic immunity when visiting other countries. Yer in Canadia Land now, boy. Canadian law applies. Not that the law regarding this is any different in the US than it is in Canada. So dude, seriously, just get the heck out of the hotel already.
Me: “They have the right to refuse you service and ask you to leave. It’s private property, technically. If you don’t leave it’s trespassing.”
SC: “But I’m an AMERICAN!!!! What kind of country is this?! Its suppose to be different for me now that I have citizenship!!!!”
This is Canada. Land of hockey and syrup. Welcome, by the way. Citizenship you say? So you just got your membership card down south did you? I think either someone was lying to you about the membership perks or you've been watching a bit too much Fox. Where did you hail from originally by the way? Papua New Asshole?
Me: “If they’ve asked you to leave, than you’ll have to leave I’m afraid. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
SC: “So you’re not going to help me?!”
Me: “Well, you’re in Canada now and Canadian laws apply.”
( Not that American law is any different in this situation )
SC: “Shame on you! <click>”
Wow, all that spitting and ranting and screaming and the best parting shot you can come with is “Shame on you”?. Shame on me for what, exactly? Obeying the law? Not hanging up on you for yelling at me like a 3 year old whose toys were taken away? Not indulging your raging self importance? I’m not grasping which part I’m suppose to feel shame over. In fact, I’m quite pleased with myself to be honest. I believe I shall reward myself with a cookie.
Oh, hey, you know there is one way I can help. Give me a jingle after you end up in a cell, k?
The End is Neigh
SC: “Yes, can you tell them it’s snowing again? Well, it’s not quite snow. It’s more like slush. But it IS forming a snow like substance.”
Oh it is, is it? A snow like substance you say? Well, that certainly is cause for alarm. You’re right, we must address this, this….pseudo snow as soon as is humanly possible. There’s no telling what it might do if left to its own devices. We could very well be on the verge of the end of man.
Down To Your Level
SC: “You know, like I don’t know how to know”
…..what? If your objective was to ensure that I was just as confused as you are than congratulations. I suppose that now that you’ve dragged me down to your level you wish to engage me in epic combat and attempt to beat me with your vast experience in this realm? Well, alright. But I must warn you. I'm not a boss monster to be taken that trivially and I will put up a brutal fight even with your farkwit game genie on.
However, beyond me lies the Ice Beam.
TMI
Ok. “Group B strep” is enough information. More than enough information. I’m fine, thanks. I can work with just that. You don’t need to add “anal” to it. In fact I’d greatly appreciate if you avoid adding “anal” to any and all further calls regardless of subject. Despite what the Internet may have told you, adding "anal" to things does not necessarily make them better. Only more awkward and potentially painful.
I Tire
Me: “Alright, I’ll page the manager for you.”
SC: “IMMEDIATELY!!!”
Oh, go suck on a muffler.
Head Towards The Light.....yet again
Blah blah the lights are on at <building> and its shining in my windows yadda yadda. My God, man. Do you not have anything better to do? Can’t you buy some blinds or a sleep mask or something? Anything? You call about this every Friday and every Friday I tell you same thing: That there’s nothing I can do and I can’t even take a message for you since it’s not an emergency. You’re the only one that calls about it so the lights can’t be that bright. Unless they’re just shining a spot light directly at your window alone for some obscure reason.
You didn’t buy that condo from one Bruce Wayne or anything, did you?
Hot...Tips?
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Yes, I have a very distant cousin who works for <company> and I’m sorry but the breakfast show came to an end in our city. Also, you’re very close to Vancouver City Hall and that big industrial park. Thank you. <click>”
…er? What the heck? Is that all you called for? But….what does that even mean? That didn’t make a shred of sense and I can’t piece together any relevant message in the entirety of your statement. Unless this is like some sort of spy code or something and you’ve just given me a subconscious command to kill the president. In which case I don’t think the hypnosis took and even if it had I mean, I’m an unarmed Canadian with a headset and half a bottle of Coke Zero. What do you expect me to do? I could try throwing my laptop or something at him but I’ve seen that man dodge air born shoes like a ninja. I doubt I’d have much better luck.
Hahahha, ahh...
Ok, I’ll admit. I laughed at this. I am a terrible person. But everyone knew that already.
This woman calls up to report that the roof over her deck has collapsed because of the snow. Alright, that kinda sucks and all. Fair enough. I pass this to the on call guy, Bob. Bob calls her back. She doesn’t answer. Bob tries again. No luck. Bobshrugs and goes back to sleep. 20 minutes later she calls me back to complain that she hasn’t gotten a call back yet. Hmm, odd. So I call Bob again and managed to catch him just as he’s falling asleep again. Bob is displeased. Like a dark, vengeful god that’s been denied a virgin sacrifice by a band of plucky heroes he rises from his slumber and grasps the phone to call her.
A few minutes later, I get a call from her again all offended at how rude Bob is. Apparently, after she explained what she was calling about at 3 in the morning Bob told her, and I quote: “Well what do you want ME to do about it? Bring you a farkin' shovel?”. She did not like this. Not one bit.
Though I was amused, personally.
Seduction & Betrayal
Broadway Station. Yes. That station again. I know I speak of it much. But since the majority of the city’s half-wits, miscreants, scallywags and malcontents seem to funnel through this single point its ripe with tales of transit woe. This time it was a pair of lovely, gorilla like oafs erotically entwined around the transit poles in front of me. This pair, they had a gripe. An issue. A chip on their shoulder large enough to require surgical removal. Their target of spite? A third, unknown friend of theirs who was not present and had not the faintest clue of the treason being conspired against them.
What was the point of contention? Well, the 3rd of the three Amigos has apparently obtained “F*ckin’ HAWT girlfriend”. Which, you know, is like the ultimate betrayal in any circle of male friends….I guess? I don’t know what all the rules are in primate social groups. But apparently he’d broken one of them. I guess its communal and he was suppose to share her or something. Who knows. Anyway, they were vastly offended that he doesn’t loan his hawt girlfriend to them.
But see, that was the tip of the iceberg. One of these two Cro-Magnon was even more enraged because it seems that this Hawt Girlfriend™ would not concede to his powers of seduction. Yes, he is mad because A) His friend will not share poon and B) His friend’s girlfriend won’t let him molest her despite what an obviously wonderfully attractive side of juicy pulsing man meat he is. Just for reference he basically looked like someone had literally broken into a zoo, tranquillized a gorilla, shaved it completely except for its face, than threw a toque and a pair of jeans on it than drove it Broadway, dumped half a bottle of Jack Daniels on it and threw it in a back alley before it woke up.
But see, the real failure here isn’t that the average woman would probably prefer to make out with the rear fender of a partially submerged 73’ Gremlin that’s been abandoned near a sewer run off than him. But rather that the 3rd Amigo has such an amazing amount of "power" over his female companion that he must be using “hella’ drugs” to “control her” so she does not fall prey to his powers of seduction. Yes, that’s it. You’re just so fantastically hot that the only logical conclusion for anything with a vagina to have resisted your mating call is psychotropic drugs.
It can't possibly be the fact that the only way you would ever get a woman moist is if you shoved her into a storm drain.
Again?
Me: “Good evening, <company>. How may I help you?”
SC: “Yes, ma’am.”
Again? Why am I “ma’am” now anyway? I don’t recall any elaborate surgical, er, reassignment in the last few days. Is there something wrong with my voice now? Have I achieved an operator voice that’s just so melodic. So angelic. So gentle and reassuring that it can’t possibly come from a man? Or is it just so luscious that you can’t help but be drawn to my vocal nectar and are desperately pretending I’m really a woman to explain the confusing feelings in your trouble heart?
Grr...
It seems I must begin to prepare checklists for every caller now. It will take a little bit of extra effort on my part but if it can in any way assist in preventing stupid calls than it is well worth it! So here you go, Mark. I made this one just for you. Please refer to it in the future:
1) I cannot pull up your company information with the phone number. That’s the main office during business hours. They possess vast, unspeakable power that is well beyond my own. I am merely the after hours emergency desk and possess a handful of meager cantrips at best.
2) No, you have not been able to just give your number to the afterhours in the past and have this done. We have never ever had that capability nor will we ever have it. So stop grumbling.
3) No seriously. Never. It’s not that it’s been “changed” recently and that I am incompetent. It’s that it’s never existed. It's not even possible with our software.
4) Yes, I spoke with your supervisor previously. She was very nice. Much nicer than you in fact. But she didn’t know what software you had and told me she’d call back after she called you and asked. That seems to have proven to be a mistake as she seems to have inadvertently left your cage open.
5) I did not "ignore her" nor did "I tell her off" or "refuse to help her" or "wouldn't give her the time of day" and to be honest I actually resent that, Marky-poo.
6) I could help you much faster if you could somehow stop yourself from being a complete farkhole for more than 15 seconds. <cough>
I hope that helps, Mark. Until we meet again! Kiss kiss.
Yes, I Sort of Need It
SC: “Yeah, uh, can you send me a catalog?”
Me: “Sure, what’s your postal code please?”
SC: “…..uhhhh…..I dunno. I’m in Manitoba.”
Me: “I still need a postal code to send one to you….”
SC: "Oh"
You want me to mail you something but don’t know where to have it mailed? Yet this gaping hole in the track of your train of thought didn’t prevent you from calling me and asking anyway? That’s rather impressive. I mean, if my train of thought rounded the bend towards that particular smoldering chasm in the Earth I’d have thought “Hey, wait a sec” and stopped until I had found some way to construct a makeshift bridge to transverse this obstacle, located and hired a Sherpa to guide me through the treacherous mountains around it or at the very least had simply rebooked a flight to my mental destination instead.
Er..
SC: “Yeah, I’m calling because I sent away for my 2009 bus pass for Jan and I haven’t gotten it yet.”
Me: “…alright, that’s not really something I can help you with.”
SC: “What number do I call than??”
Me: “I wouldn’t know, sorry.”
SC: “I really need that pass though!”
Me: “We have utterly nothing to do with bus passes.”
SC: “Aw, ok.”
I’m not sure why you thought I would know or why you thought this was important at 2:30 in the morning but than again my mental processes aren’t engaged in a desperate struggle for survival with a 12 pack of Bud Light and half a quart of Anti-freeze. Worst part is you seem perfectly aware of who you called so I can’t just chalk this one up to a wrong number either. You really, really thought I would know the answer despite this being a real estate office.
Automatic Disqualification
SC: “I realize you wouldn’t know this, but-“
No, no you haven’t. Else that sentence would not even left your mouth. I know you don’t know but I’m going to ask you anyway just so you can tell me you don’t know? I really don’t think you’ve thought your cunning plan all the way through. What exactly was the purpose anyhow? Were you gambling on me somehow being psychic or omni-sentient? “Hmm….there’s no way he’d know the answer….unless.....maybe he’s JESUS!”.
Oi....there's more but I didn't have time to finish it before I left and I am exeedingly weary. So I'll save it for a hold over post on my days off. -.-
The only upside is now I should have New Years off so I have a bit of an extended rest period this week. But before I collapse into it and begin to ferment here is the final chapter...
Somewhere On This Site is a Desk Clerk with a Story
SC: “Yes, I’m an American citizen and I’m calling from the <company> Hotel”
Hrm, ok? I’m already sensing that you’re leaning away from one of the Big Three issues that I can assist you with. Since you are not in jail, laying in a pool of your own life giving fluids or dead in a pool of your own life giving fluids. Those are really the only three options to be honest. You have to be behind bars, bleeding or have just finished bleeding. I believe the recording explains to ye these options three before you pressed the number for the emergency line.
SC: “They’re telling me to leave and they’ve called the cops on me because I refused!”
Er…ooook…and? I do not yet see the crucial flaw in your situation that would require me to exercise the vast power I hold. What utterly buttholish thing did you do to make them throw you out, anyway? You really need to pull off an admirable feat of jackassery to get thrown out of a hotel at 1:30am in this weather.
SC: “Can they do that!? Don’t they need a court order or something?!”
….hahaha, what? No. You have a somewhat flawed grasp of the law. They are not executing a search warrant. Merely telling you: “Hey, you suck so much it’s not even worth the money to allow you to stay here”. Ponder that a moment. You are so unlikable that you cannot even pay them to put up with you. Man, what did you do anyway? Now I’m curious.
Me: “Well no, if they’ve asked you to leave, than you have to leave.”
SC: “What?! But I’m staying here! I’m an American citizen and you’re saying they can just call the cops on me and have them take me away?”
Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. But please, keep ranting. The more indignant you become over this the more pleasure I derive from refusing refusing to help you. I know, I know, there’s probably something wrong with me. But seeing as your parents never told you “No! BAD!” it’s all up to me now and I must make them proud.
Me: “If they’ve asked you to leave, you will have to leave. They have the right to refuse you service.”
SC: “Are you serious?! Even if my kids are asleep?!”
…yes, I’m serious and no you don’t get to ignore the law based on slumbering offspring. You screwed up somehow and it must have been rather spectacular. I mean they’re throwing you out. So pull up your big boy undies and deal with it. If your family is upset about it than well, hey, guess whose fault it is?
Me: “Yes. If they’ve asked you to leave, you have to leave. It’s a place of business and private property. This isn’t something I can help you with.”
SC: “But I’m American! You’re saying they can just take me away in handcuffs!? My family is asleep and we fly out tomorrow and no one can drive anywhere! The manager here just told me “I want you out of my hotel”.”
Good for him. Yet you keep coming back to your country of origin for some reason? You realize it’s utterly irrelevant right? Despite what you seem to think being American does not automatically grant you diplomatic immunity when visiting other countries. Yer in Canadia Land now, boy. Canadian law applies. Not that the law regarding this is any different in the US than it is in Canada. So dude, seriously, just get the heck out of the hotel already.
Me: “They have the right to refuse you service and ask you to leave. It’s private property, technically. If you don’t leave it’s trespassing.”
SC: “But I’m an AMERICAN!!!! What kind of country is this?! Its suppose to be different for me now that I have citizenship!!!!”
This is Canada. Land of hockey and syrup. Welcome, by the way. Citizenship you say? So you just got your membership card down south did you? I think either someone was lying to you about the membership perks or you've been watching a bit too much Fox. Where did you hail from originally by the way? Papua New Asshole?
Me: “If they’ve asked you to leave, than you’ll have to leave I’m afraid. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
SC: “So you’re not going to help me?!”
Me: “Well, you’re in Canada now and Canadian laws apply.”
( Not that American law is any different in this situation )
SC: “Shame on you! <click>”
Wow, all that spitting and ranting and screaming and the best parting shot you can come with is “Shame on you”?. Shame on me for what, exactly? Obeying the law? Not hanging up on you for yelling at me like a 3 year old whose toys were taken away? Not indulging your raging self importance? I’m not grasping which part I’m suppose to feel shame over. In fact, I’m quite pleased with myself to be honest. I believe I shall reward myself with a cookie.
Oh, hey, you know there is one way I can help. Give me a jingle after you end up in a cell, k?
The End is Neigh
SC: “Yes, can you tell them it’s snowing again? Well, it’s not quite snow. It’s more like slush. But it IS forming a snow like substance.”
Oh it is, is it? A snow like substance you say? Well, that certainly is cause for alarm. You’re right, we must address this, this….pseudo snow as soon as is humanly possible. There’s no telling what it might do if left to its own devices. We could very well be on the verge of the end of man.
Down To Your Level
SC: “You know, like I don’t know how to know”
…..what? If your objective was to ensure that I was just as confused as you are than congratulations. I suppose that now that you’ve dragged me down to your level you wish to engage me in epic combat and attempt to beat me with your vast experience in this realm? Well, alright. But I must warn you. I'm not a boss monster to be taken that trivially and I will put up a brutal fight even with your farkwit game genie on.
However, beyond me lies the Ice Beam.
TMI
Ok. “Group B strep” is enough information. More than enough information. I’m fine, thanks. I can work with just that. You don’t need to add “anal” to it. In fact I’d greatly appreciate if you avoid adding “anal” to any and all further calls regardless of subject. Despite what the Internet may have told you, adding "anal" to things does not necessarily make them better. Only more awkward and potentially painful.
I Tire
Me: “Alright, I’ll page the manager for you.”
SC: “IMMEDIATELY!!!”
Oh, go suck on a muffler.
Head Towards The Light.....yet again
Blah blah the lights are on at <building> and its shining in my windows yadda yadda. My God, man. Do you not have anything better to do? Can’t you buy some blinds or a sleep mask or something? Anything? You call about this every Friday and every Friday I tell you same thing: That there’s nothing I can do and I can’t even take a message for you since it’s not an emergency. You’re the only one that calls about it so the lights can’t be that bright. Unless they’re just shining a spot light directly at your window alone for some obscure reason.
You didn’t buy that condo from one Bruce Wayne or anything, did you?
Hot...Tips?
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Yes, I have a very distant cousin who works for <company> and I’m sorry but the breakfast show came to an end in our city. Also, you’re very close to Vancouver City Hall and that big industrial park. Thank you. <click>”
…er? What the heck? Is that all you called for? But….what does that even mean? That didn’t make a shred of sense and I can’t piece together any relevant message in the entirety of your statement. Unless this is like some sort of spy code or something and you’ve just given me a subconscious command to kill the president. In which case I don’t think the hypnosis took and even if it had I mean, I’m an unarmed Canadian with a headset and half a bottle of Coke Zero. What do you expect me to do? I could try throwing my laptop or something at him but I’ve seen that man dodge air born shoes like a ninja. I doubt I’d have much better luck.
Hahahha, ahh...
Ok, I’ll admit. I laughed at this. I am a terrible person. But everyone knew that already.
This woman calls up to report that the roof over her deck has collapsed because of the snow. Alright, that kinda sucks and all. Fair enough. I pass this to the on call guy, Bob. Bob calls her back. She doesn’t answer. Bob tries again. No luck. Bobshrugs and goes back to sleep. 20 minutes later she calls me back to complain that she hasn’t gotten a call back yet. Hmm, odd. So I call Bob again and managed to catch him just as he’s falling asleep again. Bob is displeased. Like a dark, vengeful god that’s been denied a virgin sacrifice by a band of plucky heroes he rises from his slumber and grasps the phone to call her.
A few minutes later, I get a call from her again all offended at how rude Bob is. Apparently, after she explained what she was calling about at 3 in the morning Bob told her, and I quote: “Well what do you want ME to do about it? Bring you a farkin' shovel?”. She did not like this. Not one bit.
Though I was amused, personally.
Seduction & Betrayal
Broadway Station. Yes. That station again. I know I speak of it much. But since the majority of the city’s half-wits, miscreants, scallywags and malcontents seem to funnel through this single point its ripe with tales of transit woe. This time it was a pair of lovely, gorilla like oafs erotically entwined around the transit poles in front of me. This pair, they had a gripe. An issue. A chip on their shoulder large enough to require surgical removal. Their target of spite? A third, unknown friend of theirs who was not present and had not the faintest clue of the treason being conspired against them.
What was the point of contention? Well, the 3rd of the three Amigos has apparently obtained “F*ckin’ HAWT girlfriend”. Which, you know, is like the ultimate betrayal in any circle of male friends….I guess? I don’t know what all the rules are in primate social groups. But apparently he’d broken one of them. I guess its communal and he was suppose to share her or something. Who knows. Anyway, they were vastly offended that he doesn’t loan his hawt girlfriend to them.
But see, that was the tip of the iceberg. One of these two Cro-Magnon was even more enraged because it seems that this Hawt Girlfriend™ would not concede to his powers of seduction. Yes, he is mad because A) His friend will not share poon and B) His friend’s girlfriend won’t let him molest her despite what an obviously wonderfully attractive side of juicy pulsing man meat he is. Just for reference he basically looked like someone had literally broken into a zoo, tranquillized a gorilla, shaved it completely except for its face, than threw a toque and a pair of jeans on it than drove it Broadway, dumped half a bottle of Jack Daniels on it and threw it in a back alley before it woke up.
But see, the real failure here isn’t that the average woman would probably prefer to make out with the rear fender of a partially submerged 73’ Gremlin that’s been abandoned near a sewer run off than him. But rather that the 3rd Amigo has such an amazing amount of "power" over his female companion that he must be using “hella’ drugs” to “control her” so she does not fall prey to his powers of seduction. Yes, that’s it. You’re just so fantastically hot that the only logical conclusion for anything with a vagina to have resisted your mating call is psychotropic drugs.
It can't possibly be the fact that the only way you would ever get a woman moist is if you shoved her into a storm drain.
Again?
Me: “Good evening, <company>. How may I help you?”
SC: “Yes, ma’am.”
Again? Why am I “ma’am” now anyway? I don’t recall any elaborate surgical, er, reassignment in the last few days. Is there something wrong with my voice now? Have I achieved an operator voice that’s just so melodic. So angelic. So gentle and reassuring that it can’t possibly come from a man? Or is it just so luscious that you can’t help but be drawn to my vocal nectar and are desperately pretending I’m really a woman to explain the confusing feelings in your trouble heart?
Grr...
It seems I must begin to prepare checklists for every caller now. It will take a little bit of extra effort on my part but if it can in any way assist in preventing stupid calls than it is well worth it! So here you go, Mark. I made this one just for you. Please refer to it in the future:
1) I cannot pull up your company information with the phone number. That’s the main office during business hours. They possess vast, unspeakable power that is well beyond my own. I am merely the after hours emergency desk and possess a handful of meager cantrips at best.
2) No, you have not been able to just give your number to the afterhours in the past and have this done. We have never ever had that capability nor will we ever have it. So stop grumbling.
3) No seriously. Never. It’s not that it’s been “changed” recently and that I am incompetent. It’s that it’s never existed. It's not even possible with our software.
4) Yes, I spoke with your supervisor previously. She was very nice. Much nicer than you in fact. But she didn’t know what software you had and told me she’d call back after she called you and asked. That seems to have proven to be a mistake as she seems to have inadvertently left your cage open.
5) I did not "ignore her" nor did "I tell her off" or "refuse to help her" or "wouldn't give her the time of day" and to be honest I actually resent that, Marky-poo.
6) I could help you much faster if you could somehow stop yourself from being a complete farkhole for more than 15 seconds. <cough>
I hope that helps, Mark. Until we meet again! Kiss kiss.
Yes, I Sort of Need It
SC: “Yeah, uh, can you send me a catalog?”
Me: “Sure, what’s your postal code please?”
SC: “…..uhhhh…..I dunno. I’m in Manitoba.”
Me: “I still need a postal code to send one to you….”
SC: "Oh"
You want me to mail you something but don’t know where to have it mailed? Yet this gaping hole in the track of your train of thought didn’t prevent you from calling me and asking anyway? That’s rather impressive. I mean, if my train of thought rounded the bend towards that particular smoldering chasm in the Earth I’d have thought “Hey, wait a sec” and stopped until I had found some way to construct a makeshift bridge to transverse this obstacle, located and hired a Sherpa to guide me through the treacherous mountains around it or at the very least had simply rebooked a flight to my mental destination instead.
Er..
SC: “Yeah, I’m calling because I sent away for my 2009 bus pass for Jan and I haven’t gotten it yet.”
Me: “…alright, that’s not really something I can help you with.”
SC: “What number do I call than??”
Me: “I wouldn’t know, sorry.”
SC: “I really need that pass though!”
Me: “We have utterly nothing to do with bus passes.”
SC: “Aw, ok.”
I’m not sure why you thought I would know or why you thought this was important at 2:30 in the morning but than again my mental processes aren’t engaged in a desperate struggle for survival with a 12 pack of Bud Light and half a quart of Anti-freeze. Worst part is you seem perfectly aware of who you called so I can’t just chalk this one up to a wrong number either. You really, really thought I would know the answer despite this being a real estate office.
Automatic Disqualification
SC: “I realize you wouldn’t know this, but-“
No, no you haven’t. Else that sentence would not even left your mouth. I know you don’t know but I’m going to ask you anyway just so you can tell me you don’t know? I really don’t think you’ve thought your cunning plan all the way through. What exactly was the purpose anyhow? Were you gambling on me somehow being psychic or omni-sentient? “Hmm….there’s no way he’d know the answer….unless.....maybe he’s JESUS!”.
Oi....there's more but I didn't have time to finish it before I left and I am exeedingly weary. So I'll save it for a hold over post on my days off. -.-
Just kidding.
Comment