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From The Maw of Darkness
and so begins another Chronicle....
The Fangirl
Me: “Good evening, <client>”
FG: “HELLO!?”
Argh! I thought I was safe! I hadn’t heard a deranged peep for over a week. I had hoped she’d moved on and was fixated on something new and possibly had them tied up in the basement with nothing but a water dish and some corn flakes to sustain them. But noooo. The mailman had to slowly chew through his bonds over several days and escape. So now she has to go back to calling me.
Thanks, Mr “Please let me go! I have a family!”. Now I have to deal with her again.
The Healing Touch
Congratulations. You spent 5 minutes explaining your problem to me without actually telling me anything about your problem. That is impressive. I’m now just as lost as you are. Out of that entire diatribe I only gleaned a few vague morsels of information:
1) This has something to do with a prescription.
2) You were in the ER for 5 hours and just got home.
3) They listened to your lungs with a stethoscope. But they did it from the back, not the front so now you are in mortal danger.
4) You have to go to the bank in the morning?
These 4 random pieces of information somehow fit together to form a singular issue that constitutes a medical emergency. I am at a loss as to what that issue is. So are you. We are both in the woods, far from home and neither of us has had the foresight to drop a trail of breadcrumbs. But apparently, none of that matters:
SC: Oh, well, you’ve helped just by listening. I guess I’ve figured it out now.”
Me: “Ok?”
I’ve somehow managed to solve a medical emergency without even knowing what it is. Apparently, I am just that good.
I Should Care Why?
Its 3 in the morning. You have broken your glass coffee table somehow. Perhaps involving alcohol, a distinct lack of clothing and ill coordinated dance moves that have not been popular since the 80’s. There are two possible courses of action you could take here:
1) Go “Oh snap”. Shrug. Spent the next hour in the bathroom removing glass from your buttocks with a pair of tweezers. Shrug. Put your pants back on. Go to bed. Deal with it in the morning like a rational adult.
2) Call an emergency line for a glass repair company at 3 in the morning and expect them to care about your coffee table.
If you have chosen option 2, I’m afraid there may be some disappointment in your immediate future.
Inner Workings
Me: “Good evening, <company> Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “…..uh….yeah. Uh….this is…..uhhhh……just wait……ummmm…..I have a book here.”
Me: “……..?”
SC: “………”
….and….what? It is a confusing, alien object to you and you need me to explain how it works? Fair enough. But if you’re being hindered by its basic operation I highly doubt you’ll be able to comprehend its contents. Never the less, you may begin by carefully pinching the corner of its exterior flap and pulling gently to open the “page”. This will reveal to you the beginning of its magnificent contents. Which will be a strange series of symbols and scribbles you may or may not understand. However, on the upside, there may indeed be pictures.
Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
SC: “This one right here.”
Right, ok, I know this whole book thing is probably pretty new to you. But just so you know it is a rather mundane object and cannot beam images directly into my brain via satellite. It does not even take batteries. So you will have to be more specific.
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “and uh, a hat.”
Yes. Of course. How could you possibly forget that?
Me: “Ok, and the item number?”
SC: “Uh, sec……..um……there’s so many hats.”
Overwhelmed the ocean of headgear before him, he calls in back up from someone in the background:
Guy: “Uhhh……..there’s lots….”
Girl: “What about that one?”
Guy: “No, I don’t like it.”
Girl: “This one?”
Guy: “I don’t like them. There’s lots of hats…..”
For future reference, please decide what you want before you call. It will make things remarkably easier on all of us. I personally do not enjoy waiting for the blind, arthritic squirrel inside your skull to successfully locate the nut of thought. Nor do I imagine you enjoy having to form a cohesive idea within a limited time frame.
SC: “Uh, how long will it take?”
Me: “It should take about two weeks to arrive.”
SC: “….uh…..are you sure?”
No, I mostly make this up as I go along. Know what? Make it 3 weeks.
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….?”
SC: “My brother was talking about that. Did you hear him?”
Me: “…no.”
SC: “He says you have some kinda express shipping?”
Me: “Yes, we do.”
For those of you keeping track, that brings the grand total of people required to successfully order a hat to 3.
The Pioneer
It seems I must make a new addition to my ever growing list of transit denizens. I shall label him the Pioneer. Because he has worked long and hard to discover new, untapped ways of becoming the single most obnoxious person onboard a public transit vehicle. For this, he deserves recognition. And scorn. Scorn too. But we’ll start with recognition.
His transgression was actually ridiculously simple yet marvelously aggravating. It was almost….elegant in its simplicity. The only tool he had in his possession? A cell phone. Now, cell phones are the devil’s sirens on transit to begin with. But usually it’s just because some idjit is talking horrifically loud about something the doctor found growing in his colon a day prior.
But not this intrepid lad. Oh no, he had a cell phone, but he wasn’t speaking to anyone on it. No no. That would be too easy. Instead, he was browsing ring tones. Picture every obnoxious ring tone you have ever heard. Now play them back to back to back to back to back for the entire time you’re on the bus with this cheese head. The entire time right up till the bus reaches its last stop. Completely oblivious to the withering glares of everyone else onboard.
You know, most animals can sense danger. But not this poor boy. I’m not even sure he made it from the bus to the Skytrain. He vanished before making it to the platform.
The Fangirl
Me: “Good evening, <client>”
FG: “HELLO GRAVEKEEPER~>?#”
SLOTH LOVE CHUNK.
GOD DAMN YOU STOP
SC: “Yes, my husband had an operation earlier today and he’s in a lot of pain now.”
Alright, that works. That’s all I need to know. I shall page a doctor for y-
SC: “He had a testicle removed a-“
JEEBUS FUCK CHIMP ROOT BEER. THANK YOU VERY MUCH THAT IS ENOUGH INFORMATION, BYE BYE NOW
SC: “and the other one is all huge, swollen and black.”
LA LA LA~ I'M NOT LISTENING
SC: “Well, it’s more like a purple.”
<sob>.
SC: “So he can’t go to the bathroom. Like you know, when he sits down to poop.”
God, you really hate this man, don’t you?
Obvious
Me: “Good evening, <emergency glass repair company>.”
SC: “Yeah, hi, do you guys fix doors?”
Me: “Does it have glass in it?”
SC: “Uh, no.”
Those of you playing the home game might notice a rather obvious and somewhat tragic flaw in his cunning plan.
You Can't Be Serious
SC: “Yeah, hi, I’m from <parkade company> and I’m at the parkade on <street>.”
Me: “Ok”
SC: “and the gate's closed now and I can’t get out.”
Yes, that’s right. The very people who own the parkade have just locked themselves in said parkade because they were unaware it closes at 11pm. Thus achieving a level of irony that the rest of us can only hope to aspire too.
The Healing Touch #2
Me: “Good morning, <doctor's office>.”
SC: “Yes, hi, I called a little while ago?”
Me: “Ah, yes.”
On the other hand, perhaps I am not quite as good as I previously believed.
SC: “I’m just really concerned I won’t be able to convey my message.”
As well you should be. On your previous attempt you spent 5 minutes trying and I still have no idea what your problem is or why it requires a doctor.
SC:“<Doctor> always has such a busy office and I really just need a few minutes to convey it to her.”
Ok. So you need several minutes of Quality Time™ to convey whatever prophecy of yours it is you’ve been tasked with passing onto mankind?
Me: “Alright, well, <doctor> will not be in the office till 9am. We have an on call doctor but they only take emergency calls at this hour.
SC: "Oh, ok. <sigh> Well I guess I’ll just have to rough it out than.”
Rough what out? What’s going on? Please, tell me what the heck is going on. I have a few minutes. We could have some Quality Time™. Open up. Share. Tell me. I’m here to help….and ridicule, but mostly help.
The Invader
For the second day in a row I must add a new entry to my ever growing catalog of transit denizens. I encountered this one this morning on my way home from work. I shall refer to him as the Invader.
This aggravating individual inadvertently finds ways of intruding upon or interfering with your personal space, but without being consciously aware of doing so like the Loach. In order for the Invader to work this particular brand of…er, magic. He must be sitting beside you or behind you. At which point he will unfurl his magnificent plumage.
See, the Invader has something. Something that needs to be deployed. Such as a large book, newspaper, painting easel or hang glider. The wing span of this object will always exceed the space available to the Invader. At which point it will begin to encroach upon your own bodily space. Preferably resting upon your shoulder, lap or the back of your head if they are sitting behind you. The Invader will be utterly unaware that he or she is intruding upon you. Stunningly unaware.
Any attempt to politely signal to the Invader that they have the corner of their magazine lodged in your right eye socket will be met with failure. They are completely oblivious to any and all external stimuli short of sudden physical violence. Any attempt to get their attention, try to dislodge the object from your eye socket, nudge them, clear your throat or even speak to them will be completely ineffective.
Eventually, you will literally have to poke them in the shoulder or go “Hey, excuse me!” to finally get their attention. At which point they will have absolutely no idea what your problem or why you’re bleeding from the eye. They will than look at you like you’re the rude one.
At this point, unfortunately, the Criminal Code of Canada has specific rules that prevent you from “correcting” their misunderstanding.
FROM THE MAW OF DARKNESS
Oi, I was waiting in line over at the <store by my office> before work this evening when this piercing, gremlin like shriek rang through the entire store. I had utterly no idea what it was or what could have produced such a noise. I had never heard anything like it before. It was not of this Earth. If fear made a noise. It would be this. Judging by the confused and alarmed reactions of every other person in sight, store staff included, I was not the only one that had just been swept over in a wave of uncertain terror. Everyone turned and looked at the woman in front of me in line as she appeared to be the epicenter.
Than her purse moved. A pair of tiny, quivering little claws appeared and this small, grotesque rat like Hell goblin pulled itself loose from its bonds and repeated its caterwauling. I suppose that its mistress and some other misguided folk might classify it as a dog. But I have seen dogs before, and this was no dog. I don’t think this creature weighed even a full kilo. It was a tiny, writhing, bug eyed nether beast and I swear it does not belong in this or any world where the living walk.
It was if some black, black void to some alter region whose denizens feed on light and dreams had opened up in this woman’s back yard and from its dark maw that emerged. So she picked it up, put a ribbon on it and named it Mr Fufukins. Completely oblivious to the fact it was likely sent here to end our world as we know it and usher in a new age of despair.
The store clerk tried to weakly laugh it off. But I heard the fear in his voice. For it was the same as my own.
On The Stand
( Keep in mind there is literally 200 other passengers from the same flight as this ass barnacle standing around him trying to call for a room and waiting on hold too. I have 10 of them in queue personally and these calls have to be under the 2 minute mark. )
Me: “Alright, I can put you at the <Hotel Name> for $60. It’s about 10 minutes away, but they have shuttle service and can pick you up at the airport”
SC: “What was the name of it?”
Me: “The <Hotel Name>.”
SC: “The <Hotel Name>?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “It’s called the <Hotel Name>?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “How do I get there?”
Me: “They have a shuttle running.”
SC: “They have a shuttle?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “How far away is it?”
Me: “It’s about 10 minutes away.”
SC: “10 minutes?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “What’s the address?”
Me: “They’re on xxxx <Name> Lane.”
SC: “<Name> Valley??”
Me: “<Name>. N-A-M-E.”
SC: "N-A-M-E?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “<Name>?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “<name>…..what? <Name> drive? <Name> valley? <Name> avenue?”
Me: “Lane.”
SC: “<Name> Lane?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “xxxx <Name> Lane”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So can I get a room there?”
-and that’s when I stabbed him, your honour.
Ew?
SC: “Oh hi! I was just sitting here in the bathroom whizzing a seemingly unending stream of foul liquid upon my porcelain altar when it occurred to me that I don’t know a single thing about any of your prizes! Would you mind explaining every single prize to me in intricate detail whilst I hold my most sensitive regions steady with my other hand as I talk?”
k, so he didn’t quite say that exactly. I’m paraphrasing.
The Fangirl
So she's spent the last 10 minutes straight telling <coworker> how fscking awesome she is and than told him she loves him over and over and over and over for a full two minutes. Yes, seriously. Quite literally "I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you" and so and so on for over 2 minutes.
He looks like he's caught halfway between amused and violated.
Ebil
Me: “Good evening, <comp-“
SC: “TELL ME YOUR FAX~!@~”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a sec, Snidely. You’re going about this all wrong. Just shrieking demands at me won’t work. You have to say something like “Tell me your fax or the broad gets it!”. Than present said broad in a precarious situation such as tied to a railway track. At which point you need to twiddle your mustache. You did remember to take a hostage didn’t you? If you don’t have some sort of trump card I’m just going to hang up on you, you know.
You need to brush up a bit on this whole nefarious deeds thing.
Haggling
Me: “Ok, and will that be by COD or credit card?”
SC: “COD.”
Me: “Ok, your total comes to $xxx and should arrive i-“
SC: “Uh, what’s COD?”
The part about this that frightens me is if he didn’t know what COD was….and he knows he doesn’t have a credit card, than that means he walked into this call unsure of how he was going to pay for his pants. Or perhaps he was sure but COD sounded like a better idea than whatever he had in store. Which I can only assume was some form of bartering. Perhaps he was going to attempt to trade livestock such as chickens, goats or his sister in an attempt to secure leggings.
We’ll never know for sure now that I’ve opened his eyes to basic currency exchange. Shame, really. I may have missed out on a magnificent northern bride. But I would have to pay $40 to have her shipped here and it would take like two weeks unless I wanted to pay for express.
Sigh.
SC: “Is Leah there?”
Me: “....Leah?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “No one is in the office at this hour.”
SC: “Oh, well, I got this letter that told me to call this number and ask for Leah.”
Me: “Well, she’s not in the office at this hour-“
SC: “But I just got the letter now!”
….yeah, and? Did the letter specifically state: “Please call Leah at xxx-xxx-xxxx at 2:30am Saturday night”?. Mail generally isn’t time sensitive beyond the date. I highly doubt when it said to call Leah, it meant RIGHT THE FUCK NOW OH MY GOD YOU FOOL QUICKLY BEFORE IT KILLS US ALL when you opened the envelope and before the message self destructed in 60 seconds.
.....Sigh
SC: “So you guys will be calling on the cell today?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So I can just pick it up when it rings and talk to you directly?”
Me: ".....yes."
That’s generally how phones work, yes.
SIGH
Me: “Ok, its M as in Mary, D as in David.”
SC: “P?”
Sure, P as in David. Pavid. What the hell. Makes sense I guess. I don’t know. I gave up about an hour ago. I’m really just going along with the flow now. Do whatever you want, really.
Haggling?
Me: “Good morning, <company> Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Um, can you call me back on my cell?”
Depends……is there a magnificent northern bride in it for me?
annnd rest.
The Fangirl
Me: “Good evening, <client>”
FG: “HELLO!?”
Argh! I thought I was safe! I hadn’t heard a deranged peep for over a week. I had hoped she’d moved on and was fixated on something new and possibly had them tied up in the basement with nothing but a water dish and some corn flakes to sustain them. But noooo. The mailman had to slowly chew through his bonds over several days and escape. So now she has to go back to calling me.
Thanks, Mr “Please let me go! I have a family!”. Now I have to deal with her again.
The Healing Touch
Congratulations. You spent 5 minutes explaining your problem to me without actually telling me anything about your problem. That is impressive. I’m now just as lost as you are. Out of that entire diatribe I only gleaned a few vague morsels of information:
1) This has something to do with a prescription.
2) You were in the ER for 5 hours and just got home.
3) They listened to your lungs with a stethoscope. But they did it from the back, not the front so now you are in mortal danger.
4) You have to go to the bank in the morning?
These 4 random pieces of information somehow fit together to form a singular issue that constitutes a medical emergency. I am at a loss as to what that issue is. So are you. We are both in the woods, far from home and neither of us has had the foresight to drop a trail of breadcrumbs. But apparently, none of that matters:
SC: Oh, well, you’ve helped just by listening. I guess I’ve figured it out now.”
Me: “Ok?”
I’ve somehow managed to solve a medical emergency without even knowing what it is. Apparently, I am just that good.
I Should Care Why?
Its 3 in the morning. You have broken your glass coffee table somehow. Perhaps involving alcohol, a distinct lack of clothing and ill coordinated dance moves that have not been popular since the 80’s. There are two possible courses of action you could take here:
1) Go “Oh snap”. Shrug. Spent the next hour in the bathroom removing glass from your buttocks with a pair of tweezers. Shrug. Put your pants back on. Go to bed. Deal with it in the morning like a rational adult.
2) Call an emergency line for a glass repair company at 3 in the morning and expect them to care about your coffee table.
If you have chosen option 2, I’m afraid there may be some disappointment in your immediate future.
Inner Workings
Me: “Good evening, <company> Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “…..uh….yeah. Uh….this is…..uhhhh……just wait……ummmm…..I have a book here.”
Me: “……..?”
SC: “………”
….and….what? It is a confusing, alien object to you and you need me to explain how it works? Fair enough. But if you’re being hindered by its basic operation I highly doubt you’ll be able to comprehend its contents. Never the less, you may begin by carefully pinching the corner of its exterior flap and pulling gently to open the “page”. This will reveal to you the beginning of its magnificent contents. Which will be a strange series of symbols and scribbles you may or may not understand. However, on the upside, there may indeed be pictures.
Me: “Ok, and what would you like to order?”
SC: “This one right here.”
Right, ok, I know this whole book thing is probably pretty new to you. But just so you know it is a rather mundane object and cannot beam images directly into my brain via satellite. It does not even take batteries. So you will have to be more specific.
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “and uh, a hat.”
Yes. Of course. How could you possibly forget that?
Me: “Ok, and the item number?”
SC: “Uh, sec……..um……there’s so many hats.”
Overwhelmed the ocean of headgear before him, he calls in back up from someone in the background:
Guy: “Uhhh……..there’s lots….”
Girl: “What about that one?”
Guy: “No, I don’t like it.”
Girl: “This one?”
Guy: “I don’t like them. There’s lots of hats…..”
For future reference, please decide what you want before you call. It will make things remarkably easier on all of us. I personally do not enjoy waiting for the blind, arthritic squirrel inside your skull to successfully locate the nut of thought. Nor do I imagine you enjoy having to form a cohesive idea within a limited time frame.
SC: “Uh, how long will it take?”
Me: “It should take about two weeks to arrive.”
SC: “….uh…..are you sure?”
No, I mostly make this up as I go along. Know what? Make it 3 weeks.
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….?”
SC: “My brother was talking about that. Did you hear him?”
Me: “…no.”
SC: “He says you have some kinda express shipping?”
Me: “Yes, we do.”
For those of you keeping track, that brings the grand total of people required to successfully order a hat to 3.
The Pioneer
It seems I must make a new addition to my ever growing list of transit denizens. I shall label him the Pioneer. Because he has worked long and hard to discover new, untapped ways of becoming the single most obnoxious person onboard a public transit vehicle. For this, he deserves recognition. And scorn. Scorn too. But we’ll start with recognition.
His transgression was actually ridiculously simple yet marvelously aggravating. It was almost….elegant in its simplicity. The only tool he had in his possession? A cell phone. Now, cell phones are the devil’s sirens on transit to begin with. But usually it’s just because some idjit is talking horrifically loud about something the doctor found growing in his colon a day prior.
But not this intrepid lad. Oh no, he had a cell phone, but he wasn’t speaking to anyone on it. No no. That would be too easy. Instead, he was browsing ring tones. Picture every obnoxious ring tone you have ever heard. Now play them back to back to back to back to back for the entire time you’re on the bus with this cheese head. The entire time right up till the bus reaches its last stop. Completely oblivious to the withering glares of everyone else onboard.
You know, most animals can sense danger. But not this poor boy. I’m not even sure he made it from the bus to the Skytrain. He vanished before making it to the platform.
The Fangirl
Me: “Good evening, <client>”
FG: “HELLO GRAVEKEEPER~>?#”
SLOTH LOVE CHUNK.
GOD DAMN YOU STOP
SC: “Yes, my husband had an operation earlier today and he’s in a lot of pain now.”
Alright, that works. That’s all I need to know. I shall page a doctor for y-
SC: “He had a testicle removed a-“
JEEBUS FUCK CHIMP ROOT BEER. THANK YOU VERY MUCH THAT IS ENOUGH INFORMATION, BYE BYE NOW
SC: “and the other one is all huge, swollen and black.”
LA LA LA~ I'M NOT LISTENING
SC: “Well, it’s more like a purple.”
<sob>.
SC: “So he can’t go to the bathroom. Like you know, when he sits down to poop.”
God, you really hate this man, don’t you?
Obvious
Me: “Good evening, <emergency glass repair company>.”
SC: “Yeah, hi, do you guys fix doors?”
Me: “Does it have glass in it?”
SC: “Uh, no.”
Those of you playing the home game might notice a rather obvious and somewhat tragic flaw in his cunning plan.
You Can't Be Serious
SC: “Yeah, hi, I’m from <parkade company> and I’m at the parkade on <street>.”
Me: “Ok”
SC: “and the gate's closed now and I can’t get out.”
Yes, that’s right. The very people who own the parkade have just locked themselves in said parkade because they were unaware it closes at 11pm. Thus achieving a level of irony that the rest of us can only hope to aspire too.
The Healing Touch #2
Me: “Good morning, <doctor's office>.”
SC: “Yes, hi, I called a little while ago?”
Me: “Ah, yes.”
On the other hand, perhaps I am not quite as good as I previously believed.
SC: “I’m just really concerned I won’t be able to convey my message.”
As well you should be. On your previous attempt you spent 5 minutes trying and I still have no idea what your problem is or why it requires a doctor.
SC:“<Doctor> always has such a busy office and I really just need a few minutes to convey it to her.”
Ok. So you need several minutes of Quality Time™ to convey whatever prophecy of yours it is you’ve been tasked with passing onto mankind?
Me: “Alright, well, <doctor> will not be in the office till 9am. We have an on call doctor but they only take emergency calls at this hour.
SC: "Oh, ok. <sigh> Well I guess I’ll just have to rough it out than.”
Rough what out? What’s going on? Please, tell me what the heck is going on. I have a few minutes. We could have some Quality Time™. Open up. Share. Tell me. I’m here to help….and ridicule, but mostly help.
The Invader
For the second day in a row I must add a new entry to my ever growing catalog of transit denizens. I encountered this one this morning on my way home from work. I shall refer to him as the Invader.
This aggravating individual inadvertently finds ways of intruding upon or interfering with your personal space, but without being consciously aware of doing so like the Loach. In order for the Invader to work this particular brand of…er, magic. He must be sitting beside you or behind you. At which point he will unfurl his magnificent plumage.
See, the Invader has something. Something that needs to be deployed. Such as a large book, newspaper, painting easel or hang glider. The wing span of this object will always exceed the space available to the Invader. At which point it will begin to encroach upon your own bodily space. Preferably resting upon your shoulder, lap or the back of your head if they are sitting behind you. The Invader will be utterly unaware that he or she is intruding upon you. Stunningly unaware.
Any attempt to politely signal to the Invader that they have the corner of their magazine lodged in your right eye socket will be met with failure. They are completely oblivious to any and all external stimuli short of sudden physical violence. Any attempt to get their attention, try to dislodge the object from your eye socket, nudge them, clear your throat or even speak to them will be completely ineffective.
Eventually, you will literally have to poke them in the shoulder or go “Hey, excuse me!” to finally get their attention. At which point they will have absolutely no idea what your problem or why you’re bleeding from the eye. They will than look at you like you’re the rude one.
At this point, unfortunately, the Criminal Code of Canada has specific rules that prevent you from “correcting” their misunderstanding.
FROM THE MAW OF DARKNESS
Oi, I was waiting in line over at the <store by my office> before work this evening when this piercing, gremlin like shriek rang through the entire store. I had utterly no idea what it was or what could have produced such a noise. I had never heard anything like it before. It was not of this Earth. If fear made a noise. It would be this. Judging by the confused and alarmed reactions of every other person in sight, store staff included, I was not the only one that had just been swept over in a wave of uncertain terror. Everyone turned and looked at the woman in front of me in line as she appeared to be the epicenter.
Than her purse moved. A pair of tiny, quivering little claws appeared and this small, grotesque rat like Hell goblin pulled itself loose from its bonds and repeated its caterwauling. I suppose that its mistress and some other misguided folk might classify it as a dog. But I have seen dogs before, and this was no dog. I don’t think this creature weighed even a full kilo. It was a tiny, writhing, bug eyed nether beast and I swear it does not belong in this or any world where the living walk.
It was if some black, black void to some alter region whose denizens feed on light and dreams had opened up in this woman’s back yard and from its dark maw that emerged. So she picked it up, put a ribbon on it and named it Mr Fufukins. Completely oblivious to the fact it was likely sent here to end our world as we know it and usher in a new age of despair.
The store clerk tried to weakly laugh it off. But I heard the fear in his voice. For it was the same as my own.
On The Stand
( Keep in mind there is literally 200 other passengers from the same flight as this ass barnacle standing around him trying to call for a room and waiting on hold too. I have 10 of them in queue personally and these calls have to be under the 2 minute mark. )
Me: “Alright, I can put you at the <Hotel Name> for $60. It’s about 10 minutes away, but they have shuttle service and can pick you up at the airport”
SC: “What was the name of it?”
Me: “The <Hotel Name>.”
SC: “The <Hotel Name>?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “It’s called the <Hotel Name>?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “How do I get there?”
Me: “They have a shuttle running.”
SC: “They have a shuttle?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “How far away is it?”
Me: “It’s about 10 minutes away.”
SC: “10 minutes?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “What’s the address?”
Me: “They’re on xxxx <Name> Lane.”
SC: “<Name> Valley??”
Me: “<Name>. N-A-M-E.”
SC: "N-A-M-E?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “<Name>?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “<name>…..what? <Name> drive? <Name> valley? <Name> avenue?”
Me: “Lane.”
SC: “<Name> Lane?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “xxxx <Name> Lane”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So can I get a room there?”
-and that’s when I stabbed him, your honour.
Ew?
SC: “Oh hi! I was just sitting here in the bathroom whizzing a seemingly unending stream of foul liquid upon my porcelain altar when it occurred to me that I don’t know a single thing about any of your prizes! Would you mind explaining every single prize to me in intricate detail whilst I hold my most sensitive regions steady with my other hand as I talk?”
k, so he didn’t quite say that exactly. I’m paraphrasing.
The Fangirl
So she's spent the last 10 minutes straight telling <coworker> how fscking awesome she is and than told him she loves him over and over and over and over for a full two minutes. Yes, seriously. Quite literally "I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you" and so and so on for over 2 minutes.
He looks like he's caught halfway between amused and violated.
Ebil
Me: “Good evening, <comp-“
SC: “TELL ME YOUR FAX~!@~”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a sec, Snidely. You’re going about this all wrong. Just shrieking demands at me won’t work. You have to say something like “Tell me your fax or the broad gets it!”. Than present said broad in a precarious situation such as tied to a railway track. At which point you need to twiddle your mustache. You did remember to take a hostage didn’t you? If you don’t have some sort of trump card I’m just going to hang up on you, you know.
You need to brush up a bit on this whole nefarious deeds thing.
Haggling
Me: “Ok, and will that be by COD or credit card?”
SC: “COD.”
Me: “Ok, your total comes to $xxx and should arrive i-“
SC: “Uh, what’s COD?”
The part about this that frightens me is if he didn’t know what COD was….and he knows he doesn’t have a credit card, than that means he walked into this call unsure of how he was going to pay for his pants. Or perhaps he was sure but COD sounded like a better idea than whatever he had in store. Which I can only assume was some form of bartering. Perhaps he was going to attempt to trade livestock such as chickens, goats or his sister in an attempt to secure leggings.
We’ll never know for sure now that I’ve opened his eyes to basic currency exchange. Shame, really. I may have missed out on a magnificent northern bride. But I would have to pay $40 to have her shipped here and it would take like two weeks unless I wanted to pay for express.
Sigh.
SC: “Is Leah there?”
Me: “....Leah?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “No one is in the office at this hour.”
SC: “Oh, well, I got this letter that told me to call this number and ask for Leah.”
Me: “Well, she’s not in the office at this hour-“
SC: “But I just got the letter now!”
….yeah, and? Did the letter specifically state: “Please call Leah at xxx-xxx-xxxx at 2:30am Saturday night”?. Mail generally isn’t time sensitive beyond the date. I highly doubt when it said to call Leah, it meant RIGHT THE FUCK NOW OH MY GOD YOU FOOL QUICKLY BEFORE IT KILLS US ALL when you opened the envelope and before the message self destructed in 60 seconds.
.....Sigh
SC: “So you guys will be calling on the cell today?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So I can just pick it up when it rings and talk to you directly?”
Me: ".....yes."
That’s generally how phones work, yes.
SIGH
Me: “Ok, its M as in Mary, D as in David.”
SC: “P?”
Sure, P as in David. Pavid. What the hell. Makes sense I guess. I don’t know. I gave up about an hour ago. I’m really just going along with the flow now. Do whatever you want, really.
Haggling?
Me: “Good morning, <company> Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Um, can you call me back on my cell?”
Depends……is there a magnificent northern bride in it for me?
annnd rest.
Wow. I both want to know what it is and don't ever want to find out....
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