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You get what you pay for…
You picked up your car from the auto shop and discovered they were more of a chop shop. Seeing as they took all the valuable parts off the front end of your vehicle and replaced them with junk yard parts. They didn’t even attempt to cover this up by repainting the new parts to match the old paint. They then demanded you give them another $1000 or they would contact your insurance company to have your title taken away. And you gave them the f***ing money?! What the hell is wrong with you?! What “auto repair shop” do you know of that has the authority to take away your title? Damn woman, you seriously just got effed in the a.
For future reference, don’t take your car to the shady side of town in the middle of a scary-ass industrial park and then act surprised when they jerk you around. That’s a part of town I only drive through with my windows up and my doors locked. And if I’m coming up to a red light, I do that really annoying thing of slowing down about a ¼ mile back in hopes that I don’t actually have to stop.
Power struggle anyone?
I’m sorry your ex-husband so violently and viciously and maliciously threw his sweater in your face. I know that must have caused some serious damage that may result in your need for complete facial reconstruction. But that is NOT assault.
Unless you have some strange fear of sweaters, in that case, I’m sorry. I’m sure he knew the sweater would beat you into semi-consciousness and then try to strangle you until you passed out. That bastard ex-hubby of yours! Still not assault, but you should consider counseling for that little problem of yours.
Do you strive to be that obnoxious?!
To my dear co-worker who keeps snatching the trash can from my desk every time I drag it back to my seat: You have your own, so stay the hell away from mine! I got sick of taking it back so now I have a pile of trash sitting on the corner of my desk waiting for the next time I get up.
I wouldn’t care but she has this irritating of constantly correcting little things repeatedly. Like when she phrases a call in a confusing way, so I edit it to make sense, then she goes back and changes it back to what it originally said. So I’ll change it back because it really just doesn’t make sense, and again, she’ll change it. I usually give up after the second time, it’s obvious to me she wants to play tiddly winks. She can play by her damn self.
It’s called a phone book:
I’m crazy busy and trying not to have an aneurysm between talking to this woman and my radio traffic. And of course, keeping that professional veneer at all times isn’t helping my blood pressure when I really just want to snap.
Me: To file a restraining order you need to contact the courts in your area.
SC: Well what court would that be?! (You don’t know where you live?)
Me: Where do you live ma’am?
SC: <city>
Me: Ok ma’am, look under the government listings in your phone book, the cities are listed alphabetically and the courts should be listed under there somewhere.
SC: UGH!!!ELEVENTY!!!!!1
ZOMG! You have to do w-w-work! By yozelf! But it’s haaaaarrrrrd!!
Look “lady”, It’s really not that hard to use a phonebook. If you can dial a phone, you can flip through the phonebook. If that’s too much work, then you must not really want that restraining order. I’m assuming you just need to put it against your former bff cuz dat ho like totally stole yo lip gloss and yo man! Wut a biznatch! Your life sounds so difficult…
Stop hiring morons plz:
I had to call <other dispatching agency> about a vehicle that we found that was stolen out of their jurisdiction. The officer who was with the vehicle had a question and I needed that information as well before I could send all the appropriate paperwork to <other agency>. The stick-lickers left me on hold for a solid ten minutes. When they finally picked the phone back up, it’s someone else who starts in on an entirely different topic (this is important too**). It took me a couple of minutes to get back to the topic I had originally called about and throughout that whole part of the conversation the special cookie I was talking to kept telling me over and over and over and over *stab!* to send that paperwork, and I kept telling her, I know. I was this close to screaming, “No freaking shit Sherlock! Just answer my damn question the best that you can so I can send the fetching paperwork!” After all that hounding, it’s been 22 minutes and they still haven’t replied to the paperwork I sent like they’re supposed to.
**The other person who picked up the phone on the unrelated matter, story as follows: A kid was reported missing in their area and later the kid called us and said he had been kidnapped. The point here is the kid has been located and he’s safe. I was told the reason I was on hold for so long was because of this kidnapping. But the kid was found alive. There isn’t a whole f*** of a lot of work to do for the dispatcher(s) once the victim is safe and sound. So stop being such a GD fuck stick and do your damn jobs. Do I need to remind you of my theory that every morning your bosses go outside to the bus stop and just hire whoever has a vague grasp of the English language? Grrr!
Get a compass
For privacy’s sake, I’m using actual coordinates in my area, however NOT the ones this lady gave me. So it’ll still make sense, but it’s not the same address.
SC: I’m calling to tell you that someone hit a dog at State St and 2100 S.
Me: Can you tell if the dog is still alive.
SC: No! I didn’t stop! <alright, chill, I was just asking, it matters to us you know>
Me: Alright and what side of the intersection was that on?
SC: She (the driver) was going westbound on the north side of the road.
Me: Was she on the east side or west side of state st?
SC: State St doesn’t run east to west!!!!
Me: Yes ma’am, State St runs north to south, I’m asking if the dog is west of State St or east of State St.
SC: I told you that State St does not run east to west!
This continued to go back and forth at least 4 more times. I couldn’t seem to make her understand that a road that runs north/south has a west side and an east side. However, she firmly grasped the concept that a road that runs east/west has a north side and a south side… Do you see my dilemma here? I took the liberty of including a little map (bottom of page I think) in case the way this is worded confused anyone. I do wish I could have shown said map to Miss c***-punt.
Co-irker 1:
You’ve worked here how many years longer then me? Stop writing up calls with wrong addresses, non-existent addresses, insufficient info, wrong info, etc! You’re not doing it because you had a momentary lapse in judgment or are having a bad day. It’s because you’re straight up lazy, and maybe a little dumb. You do this crap everyday and protest every time anyone asks you to fix a call you write up.
Co-irker 2:
Background: We’ve just started some BETA testing on a program that will allow other police agencies to send us info through the program we use to write up our calls. (If that makes no sense, it’s sorta like email but more sophisticated). None of the dispatchers have had any training at all whatsoever on this new thing. So when I’m confused on a call that was sent through this BETA program, don’t give me dirty looks and answer me in that tone of voice that suggests I’m a complete moron. PS: I still remember when I was brand new and still in training and you stood behind my chair for that whole lecture, leaning on the back of my chair making it move and jerk unexpectedly. And coughing and hacking, great nasty 3-pack a day smoker breath all over the back of my neck. In my face, and into my yogurt.
Disclaimer: To the smokers who may find that last bit hurtful… I actually don’t mind the second hand smoke smell. My SO smokes and as weird as this sounds, second hand smells kind of like home to me. But this woman for some reason smells like she rolled in an ash tray. Most of the people I work with smoke, but I don’t notice their “smoker smell”, just hers. You can smell her across the room. And again, she coughed all over me, with great nasty, wet, mucus-y smoker’s hack. Coughing is one thing, but she coughed ON me and my food. K, so no one have hurt feelers, cuz 99% of smokers don’t offend me in the slightest, this woman is the exception.
How much is that doggy in the window…
SC: So I can’t call the shelter to see if my missing dog has been found. But I can call the web to see if she is?
Me: <Sure, Champ!>
That’s right folks, we no longer surf the web. We are now calling it!
Grrr:
Me: <opening spiel>
SC: …..
Me: …. He-
SC: HELLO?!!1!!
What more do you want from me, man?! My opening spiel identifies the agency you’re calling and my name. That means it’s your turn to say something. If you have no idea what to say, try starting with something simple like, “Hi, I’m brad.” Or “Um, there’s this thing I like totally need help with…” Or were you expecting me to glean all necessary information based on the pattern of your breathing?
Fangirl??
I spoke to a woman who strongly reminded me of GK’s stalker. But this one was obsessed with a police officer. GK, she’s cheating on you! *hides!*
Button o’ DOOM!
This happened on my Monday, deity knows I started the week out right. Most days I go into work early and work out in the gym that we have in the basement. Going home to shower is out of the question, so I shower at work on those days. When I get out of the shower and go to shimmy into my uniform pants, I realize the button that holds the pants together is missing. I didn’t bring a belt and these are the sort of pants I can’t even get to stay up without that button. So 15 minutes before my shift is supposed to start I call my boss to inform them I’ll be late due to uniform malfunction. Then when I’m finally on my way back to work, I’m in the turn lane to get on the freeway, and when the light turns green me and all the cars behind/next to me start to go. I get halfway into the intersection and some dipshit comes flying from the off-ramp and nearly t-bones my car. I honked and screamed some choice words and through in some hand signals. The tard-muffin had the nerve to get upset at me! You run a red light and almost kill me on my Monday, you deserved that you dee-de-dee! All that over a stupid button. So I made my morning better by stopping for coffee on the way back to work. And it was delicious!
You picked up your car from the auto shop and discovered they were more of a chop shop. Seeing as they took all the valuable parts off the front end of your vehicle and replaced them with junk yard parts. They didn’t even attempt to cover this up by repainting the new parts to match the old paint. They then demanded you give them another $1000 or they would contact your insurance company to have your title taken away. And you gave them the f***ing money?! What the hell is wrong with you?! What “auto repair shop” do you know of that has the authority to take away your title? Damn woman, you seriously just got effed in the a.
For future reference, don’t take your car to the shady side of town in the middle of a scary-ass industrial park and then act surprised when they jerk you around. That’s a part of town I only drive through with my windows up and my doors locked. And if I’m coming up to a red light, I do that really annoying thing of slowing down about a ¼ mile back in hopes that I don’t actually have to stop.
Power struggle anyone?
I’m sorry your ex-husband so violently and viciously and maliciously threw his sweater in your face. I know that must have caused some serious damage that may result in your need for complete facial reconstruction. But that is NOT assault.
Unless you have some strange fear of sweaters, in that case, I’m sorry. I’m sure he knew the sweater would beat you into semi-consciousness and then try to strangle you until you passed out. That bastard ex-hubby of yours! Still not assault, but you should consider counseling for that little problem of yours.
Do you strive to be that obnoxious?!
To my dear co-worker who keeps snatching the trash can from my desk every time I drag it back to my seat: You have your own, so stay the hell away from mine! I got sick of taking it back so now I have a pile of trash sitting on the corner of my desk waiting for the next time I get up.
I wouldn’t care but she has this irritating of constantly correcting little things repeatedly. Like when she phrases a call in a confusing way, so I edit it to make sense, then she goes back and changes it back to what it originally said. So I’ll change it back because it really just doesn’t make sense, and again, she’ll change it. I usually give up after the second time, it’s obvious to me she wants to play tiddly winks. She can play by her damn self.
It’s called a phone book:
I’m crazy busy and trying not to have an aneurysm between talking to this woman and my radio traffic. And of course, keeping that professional veneer at all times isn’t helping my blood pressure when I really just want to snap.
Me: To file a restraining order you need to contact the courts in your area.
SC: Well what court would that be?! (You don’t know where you live?)
Me: Where do you live ma’am?
SC: <city>
Me: Ok ma’am, look under the government listings in your phone book, the cities are listed alphabetically and the courts should be listed under there somewhere.
SC: UGH!!!ELEVENTY!!!!!1
ZOMG! You have to do w-w-work! By yozelf! But it’s haaaaarrrrrd!!
Look “lady”, It’s really not that hard to use a phonebook. If you can dial a phone, you can flip through the phonebook. If that’s too much work, then you must not really want that restraining order. I’m assuming you just need to put it against your former bff cuz dat ho like totally stole yo lip gloss and yo man! Wut a biznatch! Your life sounds so difficult…
Stop hiring morons plz:
I had to call <other dispatching agency> about a vehicle that we found that was stolen out of their jurisdiction. The officer who was with the vehicle had a question and I needed that information as well before I could send all the appropriate paperwork to <other agency>. The stick-lickers left me on hold for a solid ten minutes. When they finally picked the phone back up, it’s someone else who starts in on an entirely different topic (this is important too**). It took me a couple of minutes to get back to the topic I had originally called about and throughout that whole part of the conversation the special cookie I was talking to kept telling me over and over and over and over *stab!* to send that paperwork, and I kept telling her, I know. I was this close to screaming, “No freaking shit Sherlock! Just answer my damn question the best that you can so I can send the fetching paperwork!” After all that hounding, it’s been 22 minutes and they still haven’t replied to the paperwork I sent like they’re supposed to.
**The other person who picked up the phone on the unrelated matter, story as follows: A kid was reported missing in their area and later the kid called us and said he had been kidnapped. The point here is the kid has been located and he’s safe. I was told the reason I was on hold for so long was because of this kidnapping. But the kid was found alive. There isn’t a whole f*** of a lot of work to do for the dispatcher(s) once the victim is safe and sound. So stop being such a GD fuck stick and do your damn jobs. Do I need to remind you of my theory that every morning your bosses go outside to the bus stop and just hire whoever has a vague grasp of the English language? Grrr!
Get a compass
For privacy’s sake, I’m using actual coordinates in my area, however NOT the ones this lady gave me. So it’ll still make sense, but it’s not the same address.
SC: I’m calling to tell you that someone hit a dog at State St and 2100 S.
Me: Can you tell if the dog is still alive.
SC: No! I didn’t stop! <alright, chill, I was just asking, it matters to us you know>
Me: Alright and what side of the intersection was that on?
SC: She (the driver) was going westbound on the north side of the road.
Me: Was she on the east side or west side of state st?
SC: State St doesn’t run east to west!!!!
Me: Yes ma’am, State St runs north to south, I’m asking if the dog is west of State St or east of State St.
SC: I told you that State St does not run east to west!
This continued to go back and forth at least 4 more times. I couldn’t seem to make her understand that a road that runs north/south has a west side and an east side. However, she firmly grasped the concept that a road that runs east/west has a north side and a south side… Do you see my dilemma here? I took the liberty of including a little map (bottom of page I think) in case the way this is worded confused anyone. I do wish I could have shown said map to Miss c***-punt.
Co-irker 1:
You’ve worked here how many years longer then me? Stop writing up calls with wrong addresses, non-existent addresses, insufficient info, wrong info, etc! You’re not doing it because you had a momentary lapse in judgment or are having a bad day. It’s because you’re straight up lazy, and maybe a little dumb. You do this crap everyday and protest every time anyone asks you to fix a call you write up.
Co-irker 2:
Background: We’ve just started some BETA testing on a program that will allow other police agencies to send us info through the program we use to write up our calls. (If that makes no sense, it’s sorta like email but more sophisticated). None of the dispatchers have had any training at all whatsoever on this new thing. So when I’m confused on a call that was sent through this BETA program, don’t give me dirty looks and answer me in that tone of voice that suggests I’m a complete moron. PS: I still remember when I was brand new and still in training and you stood behind my chair for that whole lecture, leaning on the back of my chair making it move and jerk unexpectedly. And coughing and hacking, great nasty 3-pack a day smoker breath all over the back of my neck. In my face, and into my yogurt.
Disclaimer: To the smokers who may find that last bit hurtful… I actually don’t mind the second hand smoke smell. My SO smokes and as weird as this sounds, second hand smells kind of like home to me. But this woman for some reason smells like she rolled in an ash tray. Most of the people I work with smoke, but I don’t notice their “smoker smell”, just hers. You can smell her across the room. And again, she coughed all over me, with great nasty, wet, mucus-y smoker’s hack. Coughing is one thing, but she coughed ON me and my food. K, so no one have hurt feelers, cuz 99% of smokers don’t offend me in the slightest, this woman is the exception.
How much is that doggy in the window…
SC: So I can’t call the shelter to see if my missing dog has been found. But I can call the web to see if she is?
Me: <Sure, Champ!>
That’s right folks, we no longer surf the web. We are now calling it!
Grrr:
Me: <opening spiel>
SC: …..
Me: …. He-
SC: HELLO?!!1!!
What more do you want from me, man?! My opening spiel identifies the agency you’re calling and my name. That means it’s your turn to say something. If you have no idea what to say, try starting with something simple like, “Hi, I’m brad.” Or “Um, there’s this thing I like totally need help with…” Or were you expecting me to glean all necessary information based on the pattern of your breathing?
Fangirl??
I spoke to a woman who strongly reminded me of GK’s stalker. But this one was obsessed with a police officer. GK, she’s cheating on you! *hides!*
Button o’ DOOM!
This happened on my Monday, deity knows I started the week out right. Most days I go into work early and work out in the gym that we have in the basement. Going home to shower is out of the question, so I shower at work on those days. When I get out of the shower and go to shimmy into my uniform pants, I realize the button that holds the pants together is missing. I didn’t bring a belt and these are the sort of pants I can’t even get to stay up without that button. So 15 minutes before my shift is supposed to start I call my boss to inform them I’ll be late due to uniform malfunction. Then when I’m finally on my way back to work, I’m in the turn lane to get on the freeway, and when the light turns green me and all the cars behind/next to me start to go. I get halfway into the intersection and some dipshit comes flying from the off-ramp and nearly t-bones my car. I honked and screamed some choice words and through in some hand signals. The tard-muffin had the nerve to get upset at me! You run a red light and almost kill me on my Monday, you deserved that you dee-de-dee! All that over a stupid button. So I made my morning better by stopping for coffee on the way back to work. And it was delicious!
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