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I Wish I Was a Fireman ( epic >< )
God.....where to start....this week was.....really special. I seriously feel sorry for the emergency services in this city.
YA GOTTA HALP MEH
Ok….I’ve gone over this call again and again, attempting to figure out just what exactly had transpired. But I’m still not 100% certain what the heck occurred. These are the facts I was able to able to glean from his incoherent pleas:
1) He is from Georgia and has come to Canada for employment purposes.
2) He is divorced.
3) He met a girl in Canada. This girl was “very deep” and "amazin'"
4) They filmed 3 let’s say…… performances together for reasons unspecified.
5) She was involved in some sort of gang.
6) His life is in jeopardy.
He didn’t say why his life was in jeopardy or what he was attempting to flee from. Normally I would assume it involved their 3 part video…..routine. However, that didn’t seem to have any bearing on the situation. It was more like he just mentioned that out of hand. A sort of “Oh by the way, our various unspeakable acts can be viewed online at select websites in streaming video format”.
I attempted to convince him that if he was truly endangered by his deep mafia porn star girlfriend than he should be seeking police assistance. As I surely would be unable to shield him from her undoubtedly varied talents. But he did not wish to involve the police for some reason or another. I’m not sure why. Perhaps a family pet was involved in the filming. Something we’re probably better off not knowing and I didn’t press the matter for fear of what would lay at the bottom of Pandora’s Box and what it would be wearing.
All he wanted was for me to let his dad know should he go missing. Because he’s American, and so am I. Apparently. So I should do this for him off the record out of a sense of brotherly patriotic solidarity. Sadly, I am Canadian and am more want to apply reason and Tim Hortons. Thus I did eventually manage to convince him to call the police. As they would be able to supply both.
I’m sure we’ll hear about the contents of said tapes in the news in the coming days. Probably with some sort of snappy media nickname like the Toto Trio Murder.
.....
Me: "Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?"
SC: “Yes, I’d like to leave an anonymous tip for <name> the president of the <company>.”
Me: “…Ok.”
SC: “The anonymous tip involves information on the year the hungry goblin attacked.”
Me: “Okaay….”
SC: “So that’s the anonymous tip for <name> the president of <company>. In what year did the hungry goblin attack?"
…..riiiight….ok than. Whatever you say. Just, please, say it from over there and don’t come any closer.
.....!?
Me: "Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?"
SC: “Hi, this is <name>, the president of <company>"
….wait…that sounds like the same voice as before….you….were calling to leave anonymous tips for yourself? Ok this has to be a joke, just let me check the direc……no, caller ID matches the president's number. So you were in fact calling to leave cryptic anonymous tips for himself. Duly noted.
SC: “I was told that you have the message for an anonymous tip for me?”
…..well….yes…..you left it for yourself….dude, what exactly have you been inhaling this evening?
Me: “You mean….the tip about what year the hungry goblin attacked?"
SC: “Exactly!”
Me: “Ok, well…that was the tip…”
SC: “Excellent! Thank you so much! Can I leave a positive comment that will be relayed to your superiors?”
Me: “….Ok…sure?”
SC: “Because I want that marked on the record so that when the annual review gets done there’s a reason to accept an increase in annual payments.”
Me: “….Ok?”
Right. I’m lost. Did he just….want to compliment me to management? Because I accurately retained the cryptic lunacy from the first call? Which was placed approximately 33 seconds prior? I’m....mildly disturbed. Normally, I would be pleased with this sort of outcome. However, this is just unsettling and slightly creepy. Please stop calling me. You’re weird. Not funny weird either. Guy on the bus yelling at imaginary animal on the floor weird.
Bad Idea
Things not to say within earshot of the arresting officer: “”Yeah, he has a serious problem. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing!”. I can only surmise from this ill chosen dialogue that at some point in the next 10-15 minutes you will be forced to utter the phrase “Don’t taze me, bro”.
MAN BEAR PIG
Alas, I broke one of my own cardinal rules this evening and suffered for it accordingly. However, not all was lost and there was light at the end of the tunnel. Glorious, blue clad light.
What rule you ask? The never get on the first or last car of a Skytrain at night. For those are the two that naturally seem to draw the most primitive and freakish creatures that dwell in our city. But I thought it was safe! There was only 2 other people on the car and they both looked like they could actually dress themselves and form complete sentences. Thus I was lulled into a false sense of security.
But moments after I sat down, I turned to look out the window and saw a large, ominous shadow. A lumbering, bear of a man who instantly set off the “Douchebag” alarm in my head. Instantly. I knew the very moment I saw him that this man was the embodiment of primate butthole. The sum of all asshole. The All-Hole if you will. He just has the perfect sum of all features required to immediately identify his true nature. Allow me to list each in turn to demonstrate my point:
Cap on backwards: Check
No neck or chin: Check
Goatee along entire jaw: Check
More than 3 gold chains: Check
More than 3 gold rings: Check
On each hand: Check
Axe Bodyspray: Check
Oversized sport’s jersey: Check
$150 “Hoodie” over jersey: Check
Pants at least 12 inches too low: Check
$250 basketball shoes: Check
Attempting to strut: Check
Flashing gangsigns: Check
So yes, he was the very vision of what you picture every loud mouthed self important obnoxious half drunk fuckhole sitting behind you at a game/concert looks like. Though I must admit I was thankful for the vastly oversized sport’s jersey as without it I’d have been staring at dark, forbidden regions of his self that no living being should truly lay eyes upon.
Sadly, despite not having his pants pulled up, he was still able to waddle fast enough to reach the doors before they closed. Thus, I was trapped within this hurdling steel tube with the mongrel beast and he proceeded to do exactly what I feared he would: Sit there and be a loud, obnoxious jackass with utterly no regard for anyone else around him. Whilst his two henchman laughed uproariously at every word he said. I assume, out of fear they would be beaten or devoured.
But my torment did not last as long as I feared…..there was a faint, glimmering Chiclet of hope in the dark maw of obnoxiousness: Skytrain Cops. Oh, hallelujah. I love me a man, woman or dog in uniform, though not necessarily in that order, on transit as it usually means my suffering will be wiped clean momentarily and indeed it was.
Because I knew. I knew there was no way that Man Bear Pig actually bought a transit pass….and I was right. Oh so right. He was flanked, questioned and removed at the next stop. All the while pleading for leniency like a blubbering little girl. Which it did not appear either officer was about to grant him.
Truly, the Heavens have not yet abandoned me.
"Comedy"
Me: “Ok, and how many tickets would you like?”
SC: “2 winning ones, please.”
Ah, right…..I know this. Wait, wait, don’t tell me. It’ll come to me……ah ha, yes, now I remember. This is that “comedy” thing you all seem so proud of at this time of night. I’m sorry, normally I would have gotten that right away but seeing as how utterly unfunny it was it just didn’t register at first. My apologies. I didn’t even think to humour you with a polite half laugh as I normally would. In a feeble attempt to avoid hurting your feelings and maintaining the fragile self delusion that you are in fact funny. A delusion I’m sure your friends and family have spent their collective lifetimes attempting to maintain in order to avoid having to tell you just how remarkably not funny you are to your face.
Again, terribly sorry.
The Temporal Suckhole Dilation Theory
( Scientifically plausible! )
SC: “I’ve locked my keys inside!”
Me: “Alright, I’ll send the manager down to help you.”
4 minutes later…..
SC: “I’m still stuck outside. I’ve been waiting over 20 MINUTES now!!”
Hrmf. 20 minutes you say…..odd. Clearly my internal clock, computer clock and wall clock are all filthy, filthy liars than. Because I would swear it’s been exactly 4 minutes since your previous call by the case timestamp. How remarkably odd.
I’ve noticed this effect with some callers many times before and I believe I’ve actually come up with a scientifically plausible explanation. A theory if you will. See, some people are under the vastly mistaken belief that they are the very center of the galaxy as we know it. The beginning of all things. The Alpha and the Omega. Time, space, matter and customer service employees all revolve around their glorious being just barely resisting being sucked in by the event horizon of their overwhelming self importance.
Now, the center of our galaxy, and likely all galaxies, was recently discovered to be a supermassive black hole. Thus we can draw the conclusion that this caller, and others like him, are in fact gaping suck holes within the context of their own lives and the lives of those who are forced to deal with them. Drawing in all time, space and matter around them in an attempt to get it to comply to their unending suckfest of needs and demands.
Scientifically speaking, as you approach the center of a black hole, the force of gravity begins to affect time and thus your perception of time. It will begin to compress in a sense as relative to those outside of the suck hole. Thus grossly exaggerating the differences between us, the plebs, who are outside of his magnificence, and him, who is within the center basking in his own radiance. So while 4 minutes may pass for us, he may in fact perceive the passage of 20 minutes from his end of the suck time spectrum.
I refer to this as the Temporal Suckhole Dilation Theory.
Density
Me: “Ok, and which catalog are you ordering from?”
SC: “Uh, <company>.”
Me: “Alright, but which one is it?”
SC: “Umm….<company>.”
Me: “Ok, but is it the Spring? Summer? 2008? 2009?”
SC: “Uh, it looks sort of like Fall or maybe a little winterish? There’s a guy on the cover?”
Me: “……ok, look at the front. What does it say?"
SC: "Oh, Winter 2008.”
How exactly do you achieve this level of density? It can’t be natural. There must be some sort of mitigating factors at work here. Something environmental perhaps. Like something in the air or the water or an overabundance of brightly coloured lead paint on delicious looking, lickable surfaces in the community.
Is there perhaps a giant, brightly painted cherry in the middle of your village? Er…wait, no. That wouldn’t work. You likely don’t even know what a cherry is outside of a colour of pants. Ok, is there perhaps a giant, brightly painted narwhal in the middle of your village? A sort of communal lollipop?
....<sob>
Once upon a night shift dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious call of voicelogger lore.
While I listened, pencil swinging, suddenly there came a binging.
As of someone gently ringing, ringing at my call queue’s door
“Tis some caller,” I muttered “Binging on my call queue’s door
Only this, and nothing more.
I hit F1 with a sigh and shutter, when, with many a fart and flutter,
In there stumbled a drunken raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above the office door
Perched and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
By the grave and stern commandments of the job title I wore
“Good evening, <company>” I said “How may I help you?”
Barely lucid and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore
Could thy spell your first name please, on the night’s Plutonian shore?
Quoth the Raven. “HI ITS <NAME> THE PRESIDENT OF <COMPANY> AGAIN"
<sobs quietly>
Hot & Sticky
Two oddities of note from the rails of public transit this evening. Though they are interconnected…
First of all, a warning to those who use this mode of transportation. If you step on a Skytrain, and it’s really crowded, but there’s one Mysteriously Empty Seat, DO NOT SIT THERE. There is a reason it’s empty. Stop, think, look at the seat before you attempt a derriere docking. Or you will experience unmentionable sadness.
Thus was the case this evening. The Skytrain was quite full, but there was one oddly empty seat. Sensing danger I scanned the seat’s proximity in an effort to detect it’s flaw and sure enough, there were 3 pop cans and a bottle of water underneath it that had coated the floor beneath in a vast lake of filthy syrup. This lake likewise had a small reservoir upon the seat itself. My preliminary reconnaissance had saved my buttocks from a damp, sticky fate.
But not all are as observant as I. For a few stops later a rather assorted lot got on the Skytrain. A couple of…….exceedingly generic female NPCS with no unique features to speak of…..and a weird, shifty guy clutching a little beagle. But anyway, Bland Female #1 immediately headed towards and sat down on the Mysteriously Empty Seat without so much as a glance at the dangers below.
However…..she did not notice at all and sat there the entire way till Broadway. Glued to the seat by a thin layer of day old Pepsi. She didn’t even notice that her butt tore off the seat when she got up. I’m still not entirely sure how you wouldn’t notice that. If the creeping dampness doesn’t get you, wouldn’t you at least notice that you were glued to the seat by your ass? I mean, if I get up and my butt cheeks give resistance I would notice pretty quick. Because I know that my butt isn’t suppose to defy my commands.
Second of all….that guy with the beagle. He was with the other two, yet barely spoke a word to them unless directly addressed. Instead he stay there, clutching that poor animal, fawning over it like a mother over a day old foal. And this dog. Oh god, this poor dog. It did not move an inch. But I met it’s eyes briefly. They were dead inside. This poor dog did not have a shred of dignity left and just looked back at me with silent eyes, pleading for death. It’s utterly spirit broken.
It had been loved and hugged and petted and squeezed and I would bet money it was called George.
More "Comedy"
( This line is CC Only. )
Me: “Ok, and by what credit card?”
SC: “I wanna pay buy cash!”
Me: “…….”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “…ahyuk! Haha! Nah, I’m just kiddin’”
Why? Why do you think you’re funny? I’m honestly curious. Why do you think you’re funny? Why do any of you think you’re funny? Have you never noticed that utterly no one around you ever laughs when you say something “funny”? Or if they do it’s a forced half chuckle, a strained look or an uncomfortable polite smile like you just announced you let one rip in a crowded elevator?
Really, how did you make it this far without anyone telling you bluntly that you suck at humour and should stop making any sort of attempts at it? Or have they before and you’re just pressing on because you have a dream and you mistakenly believe that if you just try hard enough and not give up it will one day come true? Well, here’s a news flash for you: despite what made for TV movies and afterschool specials tell you, the real world doesn’t work that way.
If you could become anything you dreamed off just through sheer hard work and determination I’d have been a Ninja Turtle by the time I was 10.
ALALALALALALLAL~
Me: “Ok, and your name please?”
SC: “Shayla Heavenfire”
WARRIOR PRINCESS.
Pay Attention, Kids
SC: “Yeah I was wondering if you could tell me who your supplier is locally for slate? For your chairs? I’m doing a small garden project and need some.”
Me: “.....for slate?”
SC: “Yea.”
Me: “….actual slate?”
SC: ‘Yeah.”
Me: “....our chairs are made out of aluminum.”
SC: “...Oh”
Me: “It only comes in the colour slate."
SC: “.....um.....<click>”
At that point, I assume the shame at his errant stupidity overwhelmed him and forced him to flee the conversation. If only all my callers had this level of dignity to preserve.
Its Really There Too
I like how normal bathroom graffiti is things like “Bob was here” or “For a good time call xxx-xxxx”. But in our bathroom someone has scrawled “Kill me please”. Whether they viewed this as a potential avenue of escape from their work place or they were suffering a catastrophic bowel malfunction and could wish only for the mercy of death is unclear.
ARGH
Oh my god. I….just….oh my god. This is the first time I’ve had to hang up on someone for asking too many questions. To the point where he was obviously prank calling or trying to aggravate me in the most assholish way possible.
I answered a constant inane prattling of inquiries for 8 and a half minutes. 8 and a half minutes. I went back over the call log. He asked 21 different questions about me, the product, the company, the call centere, etc and several of the 2 or more times for a total of 44 questions in the span of 8 and a half minutes.
I did attempt to reason with him several times, but he just kept ignoring or plowing on through at each of my attempts. I tried control ( Would you like to place an order now? ), I tried reason ( If you have a lot of specific concerns, you could try speaking with customer service ) I tried pity ( I’m afraid I have several other calls waiting ) and nothing. He just ignored it and kept on asking the same questions over and over till I finally just hung up on his ass.
He never called back, so I assume he really was pranking me. Asshole.
I Wish I Was a Fireman
I think I might have laughed at this if I wasn’t so surprised it had transpired.
Apparently one of <company's> buildings had a water main burst this evening resulting in a flood. Of Biblical proportions. Washing out the entire ceiling in the lobby, flooding the ground floor and several suites. Hundreds of dollars worth of damage per minute sort of flood. During this horrible misadventure of insurance premium raising proportions even the fire department had to come down to help try and get the water shut off and under control.
The problem, from what I can gather from the various angry or alarmed people that called, is that the manager on site was handling it…..than decided to just fuck off somewhere and ignore all calls, knocks and pleas for his return. For something like 2 hours. While his building dissolved. So understandably, the tenants and the fire dept are a tad peeved…..
FC: “Hi, it’s <fire chief> here. You have a whoooole bunch of water pouring down into your lobby here and it’s a HUGE mess. We’ve attempted to shut the water off. But we still have an issue with it coming out of the break. Every minute we sit and talk on the phone here is costing money.”
Me: “And the resident manager is gone?”
SC: “He was here but he took off somewhere and we can't get into the utility room to turn off the water without him….…..oh hey, we got him, we found him! Ok we found him. But he disappeared for a while there-“
At this point, someone yells something in the background and it appears the manager, after fucking off for a couple hours, came back and starting yelling at the fire dept about how they haven't shut the water off. Even though they can’t. Because they couldn’t find him. Because he's the only one with farking keys to the utility room to get to the main shut offs.
FD: “HEY! You go shut it off you fucking monkey! Don't go fucking telling ME what to do!”
Me: “………”
FD: “You don’t have a very good manager here by the way, he doesn’t seem to have a god damn clue about anything. We're here to help, we're not here to get ordered around by him.”
Damn. I wish I was a fireman.
Mother of the Year
You left your suite to run to the store at 3am to buy some smokes. Leaving your only child behind who is 3 years old. You’ve locked yourself out. You tried buzzing your friend to let you in, but she fell asleep. Now you’re locked out, your daughters’s inside and your various attempts to break into the building has failed so you’re calling me. Thus making you a leading front runner for the coveted Mother of the Year award.
Though I particularly like that she mentioned she tried to break into the building in various ways: through the backdoor, windows and the patios of the suites. Than she called us. Rather than calling us to see if we could let her in before resorting to arrestable extremes. She even tried going around yelling in people's windows to see if she could wake anyone up.
I’m surprised the cops didn’t call me first.
Just Leave Them Alone
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t help you with a lock out. We can only deal with fires, floods and what not.”
SC: "Than what am I suppose to do!? Just sit out here all night?!”
Act like an adult? Call a locksmith?
Me: “Unfortunately I can only contact the property manager, but she would not have keys to your suite.”
SC: “Fine! I’ll just call 911 than!”
…you think 911 will giving a flying harp seal off a north bound ferry about you losing your keys? Seriously, just….leave 911 alone. The emergency services of this fine city seem to be putting up with enough stupidity this evening without you adding onto their misery.
Confirmation
( He ironically called a restoration company that we also answer for )
Yep, and heeeere’s the manager from <building thats under water>. Calling for a plumber to control the thousands of dollars worth of flood damage being done to his building……..3 hours after the first call about it came in. 2 and a half hours after a plumbing and restoration company had already arrived at the building which means they were already there by the time this guy thought to call for them. Because the property manager had called for them 3 hours ago after the manager failed find his ass with his hands.
But sadly, I’m not a fireman so I can’t tell him he's a fucking monkey. I am sad.
annnd rest.
YA GOTTA HALP MEH
Ok….I’ve gone over this call again and again, attempting to figure out just what exactly had transpired. But I’m still not 100% certain what the heck occurred. These are the facts I was able to able to glean from his incoherent pleas:
1) He is from Georgia and has come to Canada for employment purposes.
2) He is divorced.
3) He met a girl in Canada. This girl was “very deep” and "amazin'"
4) They filmed 3 let’s say…… performances together for reasons unspecified.
5) She was involved in some sort of gang.
6) His life is in jeopardy.
He didn’t say why his life was in jeopardy or what he was attempting to flee from. Normally I would assume it involved their 3 part video…..routine. However, that didn’t seem to have any bearing on the situation. It was more like he just mentioned that out of hand. A sort of “Oh by the way, our various unspeakable acts can be viewed online at select websites in streaming video format”.
I attempted to convince him that if he was truly endangered by his deep mafia porn star girlfriend than he should be seeking police assistance. As I surely would be unable to shield him from her undoubtedly varied talents. But he did not wish to involve the police for some reason or another. I’m not sure why. Perhaps a family pet was involved in the filming. Something we’re probably better off not knowing and I didn’t press the matter for fear of what would lay at the bottom of Pandora’s Box and what it would be wearing.
All he wanted was for me to let his dad know should he go missing. Because he’s American, and so am I. Apparently. So I should do this for him off the record out of a sense of brotherly patriotic solidarity. Sadly, I am Canadian and am more want to apply reason and Tim Hortons. Thus I did eventually manage to convince him to call the police. As they would be able to supply both.
I’m sure we’ll hear about the contents of said tapes in the news in the coming days. Probably with some sort of snappy media nickname like the Toto Trio Murder.
.....
Me: "Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?"
SC: “Yes, I’d like to leave an anonymous tip for <name> the president of the <company>.”
Me: “…Ok.”
SC: “The anonymous tip involves information on the year the hungry goblin attacked.”
Me: “Okaay….”
SC: “So that’s the anonymous tip for <name> the president of <company>. In what year did the hungry goblin attack?"
…..riiiight….ok than. Whatever you say. Just, please, say it from over there and don’t come any closer.
.....!?
Me: "Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?"
SC: “Hi, this is <name>, the president of <company>"
….wait…that sounds like the same voice as before….you….were calling to leave anonymous tips for yourself? Ok this has to be a joke, just let me check the direc……no, caller ID matches the president's number. So you were in fact calling to leave cryptic anonymous tips for himself. Duly noted.
SC: “I was told that you have the message for an anonymous tip for me?”
…..well….yes…..you left it for yourself….dude, what exactly have you been inhaling this evening?
Me: “You mean….the tip about what year the hungry goblin attacked?"
SC: “Exactly!”
Me: “Ok, well…that was the tip…”
SC: “Excellent! Thank you so much! Can I leave a positive comment that will be relayed to your superiors?”
Me: “….Ok…sure?”
SC: “Because I want that marked on the record so that when the annual review gets done there’s a reason to accept an increase in annual payments.”
Me: “….Ok?”
Right. I’m lost. Did he just….want to compliment me to management? Because I accurately retained the cryptic lunacy from the first call? Which was placed approximately 33 seconds prior? I’m....mildly disturbed. Normally, I would be pleased with this sort of outcome. However, this is just unsettling and slightly creepy. Please stop calling me. You’re weird. Not funny weird either. Guy on the bus yelling at imaginary animal on the floor weird.
Bad Idea
Things not to say within earshot of the arresting officer: “”Yeah, he has a serious problem. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing!”. I can only surmise from this ill chosen dialogue that at some point in the next 10-15 minutes you will be forced to utter the phrase “Don’t taze me, bro”.
MAN BEAR PIG
Alas, I broke one of my own cardinal rules this evening and suffered for it accordingly. However, not all was lost and there was light at the end of the tunnel. Glorious, blue clad light.
What rule you ask? The never get on the first or last car of a Skytrain at night. For those are the two that naturally seem to draw the most primitive and freakish creatures that dwell in our city. But I thought it was safe! There was only 2 other people on the car and they both looked like they could actually dress themselves and form complete sentences. Thus I was lulled into a false sense of security.
But moments after I sat down, I turned to look out the window and saw a large, ominous shadow. A lumbering, bear of a man who instantly set off the “Douchebag” alarm in my head. Instantly. I knew the very moment I saw him that this man was the embodiment of primate butthole. The sum of all asshole. The All-Hole if you will. He just has the perfect sum of all features required to immediately identify his true nature. Allow me to list each in turn to demonstrate my point:
Cap on backwards: Check
No neck or chin: Check
Goatee along entire jaw: Check
More than 3 gold chains: Check
More than 3 gold rings: Check
On each hand: Check
Axe Bodyspray: Check
Oversized sport’s jersey: Check
$150 “Hoodie” over jersey: Check
Pants at least 12 inches too low: Check
$250 basketball shoes: Check
Attempting to strut: Check
Flashing gangsigns: Check
So yes, he was the very vision of what you picture every loud mouthed self important obnoxious half drunk fuckhole sitting behind you at a game/concert looks like. Though I must admit I was thankful for the vastly oversized sport’s jersey as without it I’d have been staring at dark, forbidden regions of his self that no living being should truly lay eyes upon.
Sadly, despite not having his pants pulled up, he was still able to waddle fast enough to reach the doors before they closed. Thus, I was trapped within this hurdling steel tube with the mongrel beast and he proceeded to do exactly what I feared he would: Sit there and be a loud, obnoxious jackass with utterly no regard for anyone else around him. Whilst his two henchman laughed uproariously at every word he said. I assume, out of fear they would be beaten or devoured.
But my torment did not last as long as I feared…..there was a faint, glimmering Chiclet of hope in the dark maw of obnoxiousness: Skytrain Cops. Oh, hallelujah. I love me a man, woman or dog in uniform, though not necessarily in that order, on transit as it usually means my suffering will be wiped clean momentarily and indeed it was.
Because I knew. I knew there was no way that Man Bear Pig actually bought a transit pass….and I was right. Oh so right. He was flanked, questioned and removed at the next stop. All the while pleading for leniency like a blubbering little girl. Which it did not appear either officer was about to grant him.
Truly, the Heavens have not yet abandoned me.
"Comedy"
Me: “Ok, and how many tickets would you like?”
SC: “2 winning ones, please.”
Ah, right…..I know this. Wait, wait, don’t tell me. It’ll come to me……ah ha, yes, now I remember. This is that “comedy” thing you all seem so proud of at this time of night. I’m sorry, normally I would have gotten that right away but seeing as how utterly unfunny it was it just didn’t register at first. My apologies. I didn’t even think to humour you with a polite half laugh as I normally would. In a feeble attempt to avoid hurting your feelings and maintaining the fragile self delusion that you are in fact funny. A delusion I’m sure your friends and family have spent their collective lifetimes attempting to maintain in order to avoid having to tell you just how remarkably not funny you are to your face.
Again, terribly sorry.
The Temporal Suckhole Dilation Theory
( Scientifically plausible! )
SC: “I’ve locked my keys inside!”
Me: “Alright, I’ll send the manager down to help you.”
4 minutes later…..
SC: “I’m still stuck outside. I’ve been waiting over 20 MINUTES now!!”
Hrmf. 20 minutes you say…..odd. Clearly my internal clock, computer clock and wall clock are all filthy, filthy liars than. Because I would swear it’s been exactly 4 minutes since your previous call by the case timestamp. How remarkably odd.
I’ve noticed this effect with some callers many times before and I believe I’ve actually come up with a scientifically plausible explanation. A theory if you will. See, some people are under the vastly mistaken belief that they are the very center of the galaxy as we know it. The beginning of all things. The Alpha and the Omega. Time, space, matter and customer service employees all revolve around their glorious being just barely resisting being sucked in by the event horizon of their overwhelming self importance.
Now, the center of our galaxy, and likely all galaxies, was recently discovered to be a supermassive black hole. Thus we can draw the conclusion that this caller, and others like him, are in fact gaping suck holes within the context of their own lives and the lives of those who are forced to deal with them. Drawing in all time, space and matter around them in an attempt to get it to comply to their unending suckfest of needs and demands.
Scientifically speaking, as you approach the center of a black hole, the force of gravity begins to affect time and thus your perception of time. It will begin to compress in a sense as relative to those outside of the suck hole. Thus grossly exaggerating the differences between us, the plebs, who are outside of his magnificence, and him, who is within the center basking in his own radiance. So while 4 minutes may pass for us, he may in fact perceive the passage of 20 minutes from his end of the suck time spectrum.
I refer to this as the Temporal Suckhole Dilation Theory.
Density
Me: “Ok, and which catalog are you ordering from?”
SC: “Uh, <company>.”
Me: “Alright, but which one is it?”
SC: “Umm….<company>.”
Me: “Ok, but is it the Spring? Summer? 2008? 2009?”
SC: “Uh, it looks sort of like Fall or maybe a little winterish? There’s a guy on the cover?”
Me: “……ok, look at the front. What does it say?"
SC: "Oh, Winter 2008.”
How exactly do you achieve this level of density? It can’t be natural. There must be some sort of mitigating factors at work here. Something environmental perhaps. Like something in the air or the water or an overabundance of brightly coloured lead paint on delicious looking, lickable surfaces in the community.
Is there perhaps a giant, brightly painted cherry in the middle of your village? Er…wait, no. That wouldn’t work. You likely don’t even know what a cherry is outside of a colour of pants. Ok, is there perhaps a giant, brightly painted narwhal in the middle of your village? A sort of communal lollipop?
....<sob>
Once upon a night shift dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious call of voicelogger lore.
While I listened, pencil swinging, suddenly there came a binging.
As of someone gently ringing, ringing at my call queue’s door
“Tis some caller,” I muttered “Binging on my call queue’s door
Only this, and nothing more.
I hit F1 with a sigh and shutter, when, with many a fart and flutter,
In there stumbled a drunken raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above the office door
Perched and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
By the grave and stern commandments of the job title I wore
“Good evening, <company>” I said “How may I help you?”
Barely lucid and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore
Could thy spell your first name please, on the night’s Plutonian shore?
Quoth the Raven. “HI ITS <NAME> THE PRESIDENT OF <COMPANY> AGAIN"
<sobs quietly>
Hot & Sticky
Two oddities of note from the rails of public transit this evening. Though they are interconnected…
First of all, a warning to those who use this mode of transportation. If you step on a Skytrain, and it’s really crowded, but there’s one Mysteriously Empty Seat, DO NOT SIT THERE. There is a reason it’s empty. Stop, think, look at the seat before you attempt a derriere docking. Or you will experience unmentionable sadness.
Thus was the case this evening. The Skytrain was quite full, but there was one oddly empty seat. Sensing danger I scanned the seat’s proximity in an effort to detect it’s flaw and sure enough, there were 3 pop cans and a bottle of water underneath it that had coated the floor beneath in a vast lake of filthy syrup. This lake likewise had a small reservoir upon the seat itself. My preliminary reconnaissance had saved my buttocks from a damp, sticky fate.
But not all are as observant as I. For a few stops later a rather assorted lot got on the Skytrain. A couple of…….exceedingly generic female NPCS with no unique features to speak of…..and a weird, shifty guy clutching a little beagle. But anyway, Bland Female #1 immediately headed towards and sat down on the Mysteriously Empty Seat without so much as a glance at the dangers below.
However…..she did not notice at all and sat there the entire way till Broadway. Glued to the seat by a thin layer of day old Pepsi. She didn’t even notice that her butt tore off the seat when she got up. I’m still not entirely sure how you wouldn’t notice that. If the creeping dampness doesn’t get you, wouldn’t you at least notice that you were glued to the seat by your ass? I mean, if I get up and my butt cheeks give resistance I would notice pretty quick. Because I know that my butt isn’t suppose to defy my commands.
Second of all….that guy with the beagle. He was with the other two, yet barely spoke a word to them unless directly addressed. Instead he stay there, clutching that poor animal, fawning over it like a mother over a day old foal. And this dog. Oh god, this poor dog. It did not move an inch. But I met it’s eyes briefly. They were dead inside. This poor dog did not have a shred of dignity left and just looked back at me with silent eyes, pleading for death. It’s utterly spirit broken.
It had been loved and hugged and petted and squeezed and I would bet money it was called George.
More "Comedy"
( This line is CC Only. )
Me: “Ok, and by what credit card?”
SC: “I wanna pay buy cash!”
Me: “…….”
SC: “…….”
Me: “…….”
SC: “…ahyuk! Haha! Nah, I’m just kiddin’”
Why? Why do you think you’re funny? I’m honestly curious. Why do you think you’re funny? Why do any of you think you’re funny? Have you never noticed that utterly no one around you ever laughs when you say something “funny”? Or if they do it’s a forced half chuckle, a strained look or an uncomfortable polite smile like you just announced you let one rip in a crowded elevator?
Really, how did you make it this far without anyone telling you bluntly that you suck at humour and should stop making any sort of attempts at it? Or have they before and you’re just pressing on because you have a dream and you mistakenly believe that if you just try hard enough and not give up it will one day come true? Well, here’s a news flash for you: despite what made for TV movies and afterschool specials tell you, the real world doesn’t work that way.
If you could become anything you dreamed off just through sheer hard work and determination I’d have been a Ninja Turtle by the time I was 10.
ALALALALALALLAL~
Me: “Ok, and your name please?”
SC: “Shayla Heavenfire”
WARRIOR PRINCESS.
Pay Attention, Kids
SC: “Yeah I was wondering if you could tell me who your supplier is locally for slate? For your chairs? I’m doing a small garden project and need some.”
Me: “.....for slate?”
SC: “Yea.”
Me: “….actual slate?”
SC: ‘Yeah.”
Me: “....our chairs are made out of aluminum.”
SC: “...Oh”
Me: “It only comes in the colour slate."
SC: “.....um.....<click>”
At that point, I assume the shame at his errant stupidity overwhelmed him and forced him to flee the conversation. If only all my callers had this level of dignity to preserve.
Its Really There Too
I like how normal bathroom graffiti is things like “Bob was here” or “For a good time call xxx-xxxx”. But in our bathroom someone has scrawled “Kill me please”. Whether they viewed this as a potential avenue of escape from their work place or they were suffering a catastrophic bowel malfunction and could wish only for the mercy of death is unclear.
ARGH
Oh my god. I….just….oh my god. This is the first time I’ve had to hang up on someone for asking too many questions. To the point where he was obviously prank calling or trying to aggravate me in the most assholish way possible.
I answered a constant inane prattling of inquiries for 8 and a half minutes. 8 and a half minutes. I went back over the call log. He asked 21 different questions about me, the product, the company, the call centere, etc and several of the 2 or more times for a total of 44 questions in the span of 8 and a half minutes.
I did attempt to reason with him several times, but he just kept ignoring or plowing on through at each of my attempts. I tried control ( Would you like to place an order now? ), I tried reason ( If you have a lot of specific concerns, you could try speaking with customer service ) I tried pity ( I’m afraid I have several other calls waiting ) and nothing. He just ignored it and kept on asking the same questions over and over till I finally just hung up on his ass.
He never called back, so I assume he really was pranking me. Asshole.
I Wish I Was a Fireman
I think I might have laughed at this if I wasn’t so surprised it had transpired.
Apparently one of <company's> buildings had a water main burst this evening resulting in a flood. Of Biblical proportions. Washing out the entire ceiling in the lobby, flooding the ground floor and several suites. Hundreds of dollars worth of damage per minute sort of flood. During this horrible misadventure of insurance premium raising proportions even the fire department had to come down to help try and get the water shut off and under control.
The problem, from what I can gather from the various angry or alarmed people that called, is that the manager on site was handling it…..than decided to just fuck off somewhere and ignore all calls, knocks and pleas for his return. For something like 2 hours. While his building dissolved. So understandably, the tenants and the fire dept are a tad peeved…..
FC: “Hi, it’s <fire chief> here. You have a whoooole bunch of water pouring down into your lobby here and it’s a HUGE mess. We’ve attempted to shut the water off. But we still have an issue with it coming out of the break. Every minute we sit and talk on the phone here is costing money.”
Me: “And the resident manager is gone?”
SC: “He was here but he took off somewhere and we can't get into the utility room to turn off the water without him….…..oh hey, we got him, we found him! Ok we found him. But he disappeared for a while there-“
At this point, someone yells something in the background and it appears the manager, after fucking off for a couple hours, came back and starting yelling at the fire dept about how they haven't shut the water off. Even though they can’t. Because they couldn’t find him. Because he's the only one with farking keys to the utility room to get to the main shut offs.
FD: “HEY! You go shut it off you fucking monkey! Don't go fucking telling ME what to do!”
Me: “………”
FD: “You don’t have a very good manager here by the way, he doesn’t seem to have a god damn clue about anything. We're here to help, we're not here to get ordered around by him.”
Damn. I wish I was a fireman.
Mother of the Year
You left your suite to run to the store at 3am to buy some smokes. Leaving your only child behind who is 3 years old. You’ve locked yourself out. You tried buzzing your friend to let you in, but she fell asleep. Now you’re locked out, your daughters’s inside and your various attempts to break into the building has failed so you’re calling me. Thus making you a leading front runner for the coveted Mother of the Year award.
Though I particularly like that she mentioned she tried to break into the building in various ways: through the backdoor, windows and the patios of the suites. Than she called us. Rather than calling us to see if we could let her in before resorting to arrestable extremes. She even tried going around yelling in people's windows to see if she could wake anyone up.
I’m surprised the cops didn’t call me first.
Just Leave Them Alone
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t help you with a lock out. We can only deal with fires, floods and what not.”
SC: "Than what am I suppose to do!? Just sit out here all night?!”
Act like an adult? Call a locksmith?
Me: “Unfortunately I can only contact the property manager, but she would not have keys to your suite.”
SC: “Fine! I’ll just call 911 than!”
…you think 911 will giving a flying harp seal off a north bound ferry about you losing your keys? Seriously, just….leave 911 alone. The emergency services of this fine city seem to be putting up with enough stupidity this evening without you adding onto their misery.
Confirmation
( He ironically called a restoration company that we also answer for )
Yep, and heeeere’s the manager from <building thats under water>. Calling for a plumber to control the thousands of dollars worth of flood damage being done to his building……..3 hours after the first call about it came in. 2 and a half hours after a plumbing and restoration company had already arrived at the building which means they were already there by the time this guy thought to call for them. Because the property manager had called for them 3 hours ago after the manager failed find his ass with his hands.
But sadly, I’m not a fireman so I can’t tell him he's a fucking monkey. I am sad.
annnd rest.
)
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