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Beatbox Hero ( Epic )
Jesus *&@$) this city. Some days. I swear. What the fark?
With Apologies to Alaska
( Aka they're headin' west )
It is midnight. You are bored. You live in Alaska. So I suppose that goes without saying. Still, as you sit cold and alone in your featureless arctic residence in a state whose peasants have basically gathered enough Food, Wood and Gold to advance from the Nunavut’s Bronze Age to the Iron Age. I suppose the arrival and discovery of our catalog in your mailbox would come as a sudden ray of sunshine. A brief moment of hope in an otherwise barren existence. The first, last and greatest happiness you would ever experience.
Thus, I suppose I can’t blame you for calling me at midnight about pants. You must be desperate for some form of contact with other life aside from polar bears. At least speaking with us carries little to no threat of being brutally mauled and devoured.
Well, devoured anyway. I can’t promise anything in regards to mauling.
So Excited
Me: “are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “YEAH!”
Me: “Alright, do you have your customer ID?”
SC: “YEAH!”
Ok, seriously, relax. All you’re doing is ordering lottery tickets. Lottery tickets which will take 2 weeks to arrive and will likely net you nothing but a gift certificate as a prize. This does not require the level of excitement you are displaying.
If you were placing an order for your very own free pack of giant robot lions which could come together to form an even bigger robot that had a laser sword, mp3 player, espresso machine and a vagina than you would be displaying the appropriate level of excitement. But until than, calm down. Take a deep breath and return to your obviously mundane life.
Than we will both anxiously wait for the day when I answer a line with “FORM BLAZING SWORD! Are you calling to place an order?”. For that will truly be a great day.
Lightning Strikes Twice
This evening, on the Skytrain, lightning struck twice much to my horror. From the far end of the Skytrain I heard a voice. An announcement. A rather doughy, gorilla like beast had gotten up and was clearly announcing that he required an additional $1.50 to purchase a bus pass and request donations to this cause. He made this announcement in much the same manner as a flight attendant gets up and instructs you in how to properly fasten your seatbelts and return your trays to their original upright positions. Complete with elaborate hand gestures to accent his points.
I initially ignored this proclamation by he whom would likely become a heart disease statistic within the next 10 years. However, having failed to find anyone to just give him money on that end of the train he came down to my end and repeat his appeal. At which point I glanced at him and the inkling sensation of familiarity overcame me....
Oh fuck. Its BIG FAT DAVE.
Yes, thats right. THe same slope browed bull moose that tried to bum a buck 50 off me several weeks ago. So here was the exact same sack of cookie dough on the same train requesting the same amount of currency. Thus indicating his previous attempt with me was not an isolated incident. But in fact merely the string section of an ongoing symphony of financial failure on his part.
The part that amused me in particular about Big Fat Dave this time was that he loudly announced the purpose of his collection drive. Which was so he could purchase a transit pass. Despite already being on the Skytrain. Which, as Man Bear Pig found out last week, is a Bad Idea™.
Actually, come to think of it both of them look rather similar….Man Bear Pig had additional bling but they both basically wore the same uniform of human shallowness coupled with the inability to properly pull their pants up. However, Man Bear Pig appeared to be more financially successful or at the very least more successful obtaining payday loans from MoneyMart.
Unraveling The Bronze Age
Tonight, on masterpiece theatre: 9 minutes and 42 seconds of the single most weak minded human being in all of Canada. Yes, that’s right. This call was 9 minutes and 42 seconds long and much of it was awkward confused silence.
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “Ok, which catalog will be ordering from?”
SC: “Uh, my daughter decided to order STUFF”
Ah, yes. Stuff. I’ve heard of this stuff before. It seems to be highly desirable. Boy, wish I had some stuff. I mean I have some stuff at home. But there’s so much stuff out there.
Me: “Ok, from which catalog?”
SC: “2008. Bing. Cat-o-log.”
Yes. Bing Cat o’ log. I assume this roughly translates to Spring Catalog.
Me: “Alright, and what’s the item number of what you’d like to order?”
SC: “xx5x”
Me: “xx5x?”
SC: “No. xx FOUR!!! x”
Me: “Ok, what size?”
SC: “Small.”
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “It go along with chesty dam snue”
Me: “…..Pardon?”
I’ve listened to the recording five times now and that’s what it sounds like. So Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue.
SC: “It go along with my order……from earlier”
Me: “I cannot add anything to an earlier order, you’ll have to speak with customer service during business hours to do that.”
SC: “It just that I rat there”
Me: “Pardon?”
…just that rat there. Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue rat there. I feel like I’m slowly uncovering some sort of ancient code or prophecy. Being channeled through the mouth of an imbecile by powers unknown.
SC: “Just that I ride there.”
Me: “…what, sorry?”
….ride….here? You don’t even have horses up there. The only thing large enough to carry your weight would be a polar bear, but good luck saddling one of them up. Not that I think it’s a bad idea, granted. By all means, please, go try and saddle one of them up.
SC: “I ordered…..horse…..and women’s shoes and for his cat earlier.”
Me: “….”
Ok, so you do mean a horse. To ride here with. To collect your chesty dam snue. Right, got it.
SC: “My daughter came along and she decided to order”
Me: “Alright, I can’t add-
SC: “Ok, I’ll just order by different……………..email than.”
….order by different email….right, ok, so Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue rat horse ride email. We’re getting closer to gathering all the clues….
Me: “…..what, sorry?”
SC: “Its….Roberto FrostyNuts”
Me: “…..you’d like to place this order than?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “Alright. What was the name again sorry?”
SC: “Roberto FrostyNuts. R-O-B-E-R.”
Me: “R-O-B-E-R……........T-O?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “and the last name was FrostyNuts?”
SC: “R-O-C-K………..”
Me: “….what was that sorry?”
SC: “R-O-C-K-C-U-N-T"
Me: “R-O-C-K-C-U-N-T?"
SC: “R-O-C-K-C-A-N-T"
Me: “C-a-n?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “That’s the last name?”
SC: "Yes.”
Me: “Ok, and the phone number please?”
Amazingly, I manage to collect the rest of the relevant information without incident in what I assume is the one daily lucid moment this guy has.
Me: “Alright, that will come to xxxx than and should arrive in about two weeks-”
SC: “Um…..he also would like to place another order.”
Me: “A third order?”
To add to the first order that was already placed earlier and the second order you just placed? You’ve already wasted $40 on additional shipping. You’re going to try for $80 now?
SC: “Uh. Can I ask you. If you get the xxxx?”
Me: “….xxx-“
SC: : “Did you get that one?”
Me: “What was the number again?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Alright, you wanted to place another order for this?”
SC: “We also would like da….other…..uh…other thing you just called.”
Me: “……….”
Other thing I just called…..?
SC: “uh….<slightly different number>”
….wait, what happened to <first ID number>?
Me: “Ok, so you want to place another order for this item?”
SC: “Yes. Two item………please”
Me: “Alright, but you wanted to place another order for these, correct?”
SC: “Yes.”
Me: “O-“
SC: "Da-”
Me: “Ok so the first one is x-“
SC: “Did you get first one?”
Me: “Yes, I already got the first one. This is why I’m asking, would you like to place another order for this one?”
SC: “Yes, my daughter also like the otter”
Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue rat horse ride email otter.
Me: “Alright, but I can’t add that to the first order. I need to know everything you want to begin with.”
SC: “…………..is dat ok, I just take them separately. I buy them.”
Me: “Sir, are you sure?”
It does mean changing the bulb.
SC: “But my daughter is asking for another item. Can. Can we order them also?”
Me: “Ok, what’s the item?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Ok, what size?”
SC: “Small.”
Me: “Alright. Was there anything else?”
SC: “No, just those two items.”
Me: “…ok, so this is the only one for this order?”
SC: “Yes.”
Me: “Alright is it the same name?”
SC: “Yes. Same address. Same name. Same…..everything.”
Me: “Ok, that’s going to come t-“
SC: “We call from Nunavut”
Me: “…yes, so your total comes to xxx and will arrive in about two weeks…with the other two orders.”
SC: “Ok. Thanks.”
I’m surprised he didn’t just end the call with “Fuck you, Darwin!”.
Ah yes, right. There’s still the matter of the code……the complete code appears to be: Bing Cat o’log chesty dam snue rat horse ride email otter. Right….ok, so we have four mammals: Cat, rat, horse and otter. Than “chesty”….which….well ok there’s really only one way to interpret that….however! It does refer to mammary glands, and thus again, mammals. Ok, so, all clues point towards mammals and/or possibly…er…mammary glands.
That leaves dam, log, snue, ride and email. Ok, so dam….made of logs….beaver. Beavers, another mammal! Or….slang for….eh…ok nevermind, we’re going to a weird place. Ok, so, mammory glands…um…beaver. So that leaves bing, snue, ride and email.
Bing is the sound <call software> makes when something comes in on one of my lines. So line....than ride.....um.....lets just leave that one. Snue.....? Wait. Snu.....snu.....ride. Line.....email.......mammory glands, beaver? Wait a sec.....
I'm really a woman, drop me a line at my email because I want to ride you? ><
Yes, that’s right. I either have the most over-active imagination possible or I am a goddamn genius.
Office Feedback
Me: “Ok, and what is your zip code, please?”
SC: “I just wanna leave a number.”
Me: "Alright, bu-“
SC: “It’s xxx”
Me: “Ok, but I need at l-“
SC: “-xxx-”
Me: “I need at least a zip code to make sure to have the closest office to you ca-"
SC: “-xxxx”
You know, this reminds me of a question I’ve been meaning to ask: Why don’t we have a tiger pit again? We’re missing a golden opportunity here you know. A tiger pit would expand our possible business ventures, keep caller’s in line and increase employee QA scores.
I mean if we had at least one or two feral tigers barely restrained at each of our branch locations which were fed only a diet of raw meat wearing headsets with catalogs stapled too them think of the overall productivity we’d gain. Plus we’d reduce if not outright eliminate problem callers. They’d also double as building security. Think of the money we’d save.
We could probably only fit one in here. Maybe in the utility closet in the server room. We’d have to name him Tony of course. Than when any operator misbehaved or had low QA scores, you could just leave a handful of Frosted Flakes in their locker. That'd straighten them the fuck out pretty quick.
Come to think of it I’ll have to rescind what I said about devouring too.
Worth a Shot
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yeah, uh, that is, uh, tha, um, and, er, ya-“
If I kick you in the head will I get better reception?
Salvaging
Me: “I’m afraid those items on the website are online only. You can only get that price if you order online.”
SC: “Uh….how I do that?”
Ho ho no. I’m not falling for that. It’s a miracle for your recently acquired opposable thumbs you even have and were able to operate a computer to get to the website to begin with. I sure as heck am not about to even attempt to walk you through placing an order online. I value what little of my sanity I have left, thank you.
Heck, how did you even get a computer up there to begin with? Did a passenger plane crash nearby?
Beatbox Hero
Gah, the things I endure on public transit. This evening there was a quartet on my train of typical gangsta wannabes. I didn’t think much of them at first and was pleasantly enjoying my post work Skytrain nap when I heard something. Something…..bizarre. Which prompted me to rouse from my slumber and look up in the offending direction.
One of them was making…..noise. Odd noise. It took me a moment to realize he was actually attempting to beatbox. Except he was only capable of two noises. Of which I can only describe as “pop” and “spit”. And only in one note. Plus, he was merely alternating the noises. So he was simply sitting there doing a monotone performance of spit, pop, spit, pop, spit, pop, spit, pop. Which, talent wise, puts him just a step below a 4 year old imitating a Rice Crispies commercial.
If you’re unfamiliar with beatboxing, it is essentially the art of pretending you have musical talent without actually learning to play any instruments. It ranks just below rap on the list of things that are incredibly sad and annoying to watch when performed by someone that has utterly no talent for it. Though rap still edges it out in the end. Because there is really nothing more pathetic and aggravating to be behold than someone who thinks they can rap.
Still, I might have let his simple stupidity pass………but than the second guy joined in. The second guy was likewise only capable of two noises, but had mastered two notes so he was flying his flag slightly higher on the fail pole than the first guy. But they were still only generating 3 different notes between the two of them. Why they were doing this however, was still escaping me.
And than, of course, the third guy joined in. But he couldn’t beatbox so he was humming in an attempt to add synth to the mix. He could hum all of three notes. Though one of them was the same as the first three his cronies were capable of. So in total they are generating five unique notes. Which means that between all three of them they’re almost capable of providing a bass line for a Hannah Montana song.
I anxiously waited to see what the fourth guy would attempt to board the fail boat with, however he had pulled out his cellphone and was filming the performance of the other three. Although I noticed he was doing everything in his power to make sure he wasn’t in the shot and refused to speak whenever it was recording. I’m guessing in an attempt to ensure he never had to admit he was with these people. A wise move on his part.
Not content with their original performance ( Which clocked in at 6 and a half minutes according to camera guy ) synth boy began attempting to add different noises to the mix. Specifically he began attempting to add female back up vocals. Why in God’s name you would attempt this is beyond me. But he wasn’t about to let reason or shame stop him. So away he went. Sounding exactly like a grown man doing a bad impression of a little girl with laryngitis.
The their credit, the other two told him to stop doing it almost immediately. Than they began discussing their plans for this evening….which apparently involved going to Stanley Park and performing for the masses. Wow. You know, just because you B ranked the Bohemian Rhapsody on Beatbox Hero 3 doesn’t mean you actually have a shred of talent, guys.
They than resumed performing….this performance literally continued the entire way to downtown, so over 15 minutes. During which back up vocal guy began to RAP. Thus instantly combining the two saddest possible things to behold when performed by people that don’t have a shred of talent for either. So we have awful beatboxing AND horrible, horrible rapping. Two separate fronts of exquisite human failure colliding over a single point to form the perfect storm of human shame.
I actually facepalmed myself at that point. For which one of them gave me a dirty look. But they pressed onward. Hell, they were still going when I got off the train.
I assume they’re at Stanley Park as we speak. Living the dream.
Ingenuity
Oh, failure. How I missed your pungent aroma and mind numbing goodness. I mean it’s literally been all of 3 hours since I last saw you! I feared I would waste away, but oh! What’s this?! Fortune kisses my forehead! For you have come back to me!
<cough> Ok, melodrama aside. Tonight’s poor victim was traveling by American Airlines ( truly, an infallible purveyor of sky chariot services ), but they canceled his flight. So he received a voucher for a hotel room, booked a hotel and arrived at the hotel…..
….annnd their front desk calls me because American Airlines, in their infinite wisdom and high quality customer service, did not give him a voucher. They gave him a photocopy of someone else’s voucher. Which the hotel can’t accept. So he’s already at the hotel, but can’t get the room now. The worst part about this is some AA employee at the airport probably thinks they’re rather ingenious.
So I speak with the front desk clerk for a minute or two before he asks if I want to talk to the passenger to explain it. I concede, against my better judgment, resulting in this conversation:
DC: “Did you want to talk to him and explain it?”
Me: “Alright”
DC: “Ok, one moment…..”
Me: “……”
P: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi.”
P: “You speak Spanish!?”
Me: “No, I don’t sorry.”
P: “….no hablo Englais…”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t speak Spanish either….”
Yes, that’s right. The clerk spoke with me for a few minutes in perfect English, than offered to let me speak to the passenger, without giving me a heads up that the passenger only speaks Spanish. Something that would have be rather helpful. Why did he do this, you ask?
I assume because the rich chocolately cake of failure isn’t complete without icing.
Vocabulary
Me: “Alright, and what’s the problem?”
SC: “We’re having trouble with the an updation”
Updation. That is not a word. Please stop that. That’s the sort of non-word the computer illiterate latch onto than begin to use on the computer literate when they call us for tech support.
Sure, you scoff now, but 6 months from now your mom is going to call you and complain that ever since she installed an updation for Adoobie Flash the internets looks funny whenever she clicks on FieryFox.
Argh
Me: “Alright, and your phone number please?”
SC: “Phone number?”
Me: “Yes, do you have a phone number there?”
SC: “I have my cell phone.”
Me: “Ok, what’s the number to it?”
SC: “To what? My cell phone?”
Me: “Yes.”
Please answer the door soon, my knuckles are starting to get sore.
I Want It That Way
Dammit, this city is…..special. On so many levels. Where to begin….
I wasn’t even safe going home this morning. I was safe until this spindly little guy got on halfway home. Looked perfectly normal, listening to an iPod. Even managed to act normal for a stop or so. Till suddenly he belted out “I WAAAAAANNNNT IT THAT WAY!” at the top of his lungs. Yes, he started yelling the Backstreet Boys. I wouldn’t call it singing. Singing involves melody. This was just yelling it as loud as possible.
After screeching like a wounded elk, he looked around excitedly. I assume to see if he had managed to annoy anyone. But, this is Vancouver. We’re desensitized to crazy. So everyone was pretty much ignoring him. Saddened, he resolved to try even harder next time and again belted out the main refrain…..than proceeded to start singing the entire song at the top of his goddamn lungs.
Now he’s bothering people and seemingly enjoying every damn minute of it. The more obnoxious and aggravating he is, the more pleasure he seems to be deriving from the annoyance and uncomfortable looks from other passengers. They seemed to feed him. Give him power.
This continued for another stop or so until was no longer content with the level of aural suffering he was inflicted…..so he got up and started dancing as well. Dancing the entire sequence that goes along with the song. And yes, he danced about as well as he could sing. Which is to say like a monkey on the business end of a tazer.
Still, his display just wasn’t quite enough. He just wasn’t utterly aggravating every living human being within 30 feet yet. He had to have MOAR. Shame be damned. So he started going over to people on the far end of the train and air humping in front of them as he sang. At this point I’m wondering if this is on camera, because there is no way any one person could seriously be doing this without some sort of cash prize involved.
He seemed to be paying particular attention to one older guy at the end of the train, who I’m really surprised didn’t smack him or throw his coffee in the guy’s crotch as it was gyrating a mere 2 feet from his face. So bravo to him for his restraint. Luckily, the Backstreet Primate didn’t come down to my end of the Skytrain to test my restraint. As I’m unsure just how much patience I’d have left to test right after getting off work.
He finally got off at Metrotown, thankfully. Because in all blunt honesty that’s the kind of person you punch in the face and don’t regret a moment of it even after it goes to trial.
You Did What?
You know, it’s pretty damn stupid to drive drunk to begin with. But to drive drunk and than attempt to drive across the border is particularly special. Rubber glove contraband search special.
On Please. Shove off.
Alright....let me get this straight
1) You want to stay at a resort
2) This resort's rooms are on sale as of yesterday
3) You didn't call to book yesterday
4) So you're calling today, because you MUST have a room from this sale. NOW.
5) But of course, the travel agency is not open on the weekends.
6) OMFG WHAT IF THEY SELL OUT
Right, ok. Now.....what exactly do you want me to do? I cannot bend time and space to force anyone to come into the office on the weekend. They're not open on the weekend. I cannot change this. Irregardless of what you say.
No, I can't put you through to a supervisor. There is no one in the office.
No, I can't put you through to the owner. THERE IS NO ONE IN THE OFFICE.
No, I can't put you through to another office. They have the same hours. NO. ONE. IN. OFFICES.
I could leave a message for you and indicate the resort you'd like to book as well as the desired details....? No? Just going to keep ranting at me like a giga-twat? Alright.
What the hell is going on here. Where the fuck did you come from anyway? Did you call Dave first and he hung up on you?
The Botanist
( Likely the sidekick of the Night Waterer )
But wait! There’s more! Because this is Vancouver. One of the benefits(?) of it being quiet in the office on graveyard is that you can hear whenever there’s a commotion outside in the street. Of which there was this evening. Out front. Curious, I went to peek out the window.
Annnd there’s a woman across the street, at the building across from us....in their garden…..um…gardening? Furiously? She looks a little wobbly. Like Jack Daniels wobbly.....and still has her purse. But she appears to be gardening. Or, well, alternating between raking with a stick and angrily beating the living fuck out of one of the plants with kung fu kicks and stomps.
She seemed to do just enough sort of legitimate gardening like work to make it look official. But it was always broken up by moments of intoxicated rage towards one of the plants. Still, I’m highly doubtful the building across from us employs a landscaper who only works from 3am to 4am on the weekends.
At some point a car pulled up next to her and the driver said something. She than spent the next 10 minutes or so drunkenly attempting to pantomime what she was doing to the driver. Which seemed to involve a lot of stick swinging and stumbling in a circle. After which point she began tearing off her cloths(?!) and tossing them on the car’s hood. Though luckily, she stopped when she got to her tank top. Than she had a smoke. The car left. And she resumed prune assaulting the garden.
I’m not sure how long this went on as she was already at it when I glanced out around 3am and I just noticed her stumbling off at 4. She could have been out there all night before that. Only reason I looked out was because I heard a couple of guys loudly cheering her on.
Update: Ok, <coworker> informs me that this person’s name is actually Lisa and she is indeed gardening in an attempt to make the sidewalk “safe” because it’s a “fire hazard”. She’s been out there introducing herself to everyone that passes by. This is purely a volunteer service on her part. Coming out at 3am to beat the hell out of your plants so they don’t catch fire.
Duly noted.
....
Me: “Ok, and your name please?”
SC: “Bella Booty”
Good night, folks!
Thats enough pain for now, mayhaps more later... ><
With Apologies to Alaska
( Aka they're headin' west )
It is midnight. You are bored. You live in Alaska. So I suppose that goes without saying. Still, as you sit cold and alone in your featureless arctic residence in a state whose peasants have basically gathered enough Food, Wood and Gold to advance from the Nunavut’s Bronze Age to the Iron Age. I suppose the arrival and discovery of our catalog in your mailbox would come as a sudden ray of sunshine. A brief moment of hope in an otherwise barren existence. The first, last and greatest happiness you would ever experience.
Thus, I suppose I can’t blame you for calling me at midnight about pants. You must be desperate for some form of contact with other life aside from polar bears. At least speaking with us carries little to no threat of being brutally mauled and devoured.
Well, devoured anyway. I can’t promise anything in regards to mauling.
So Excited
Me: “are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “YEAH!”
Me: “Alright, do you have your customer ID?”
SC: “YEAH!”
Ok, seriously, relax. All you’re doing is ordering lottery tickets. Lottery tickets which will take 2 weeks to arrive and will likely net you nothing but a gift certificate as a prize. This does not require the level of excitement you are displaying.
If you were placing an order for your very own free pack of giant robot lions which could come together to form an even bigger robot that had a laser sword, mp3 player, espresso machine and a vagina than you would be displaying the appropriate level of excitement. But until than, calm down. Take a deep breath and return to your obviously mundane life.
Than we will both anxiously wait for the day when I answer a line with “FORM BLAZING SWORD! Are you calling to place an order?”. For that will truly be a great day.
Lightning Strikes Twice
This evening, on the Skytrain, lightning struck twice much to my horror. From the far end of the Skytrain I heard a voice. An announcement. A rather doughy, gorilla like beast had gotten up and was clearly announcing that he required an additional $1.50 to purchase a bus pass and request donations to this cause. He made this announcement in much the same manner as a flight attendant gets up and instructs you in how to properly fasten your seatbelts and return your trays to their original upright positions. Complete with elaborate hand gestures to accent his points.
I initially ignored this proclamation by he whom would likely become a heart disease statistic within the next 10 years. However, having failed to find anyone to just give him money on that end of the train he came down to my end and repeat his appeal. At which point I glanced at him and the inkling sensation of familiarity overcame me....
Oh fuck. Its BIG FAT DAVE.
Yes, thats right. THe same slope browed bull moose that tried to bum a buck 50 off me several weeks ago. So here was the exact same sack of cookie dough on the same train requesting the same amount of currency. Thus indicating his previous attempt with me was not an isolated incident. But in fact merely the string section of an ongoing symphony of financial failure on his part.
The part that amused me in particular about Big Fat Dave this time was that he loudly announced the purpose of his collection drive. Which was so he could purchase a transit pass. Despite already being on the Skytrain. Which, as Man Bear Pig found out last week, is a Bad Idea™.
Actually, come to think of it both of them look rather similar….Man Bear Pig had additional bling but they both basically wore the same uniform of human shallowness coupled with the inability to properly pull their pants up. However, Man Bear Pig appeared to be more financially successful or at the very least more successful obtaining payday loans from MoneyMart.
Unraveling The Bronze Age
Tonight, on masterpiece theatre: 9 minutes and 42 seconds of the single most weak minded human being in all of Canada. Yes, that’s right. This call was 9 minutes and 42 seconds long and much of it was awkward confused silence.
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “Ok, which catalog will be ordering from?”
SC: “Uh, my daughter decided to order STUFF”
Ah, yes. Stuff. I’ve heard of this stuff before. It seems to be highly desirable. Boy, wish I had some stuff. I mean I have some stuff at home. But there’s so much stuff out there.
Me: “Ok, from which catalog?”
SC: “2008. Bing. Cat-o-log.”
Yes. Bing Cat o’ log. I assume this roughly translates to Spring Catalog.
Me: “Alright, and what’s the item number of what you’d like to order?”
SC: “xx5x”
Me: “xx5x?”
SC: “No. xx FOUR!!! x”
Me: “Ok, what size?”
SC: “Small.”
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “It go along with chesty dam snue”
Me: “…..Pardon?”
I’ve listened to the recording five times now and that’s what it sounds like. So Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue.
SC: “It go along with my order……from earlier”
Me: “I cannot add anything to an earlier order, you’ll have to speak with customer service during business hours to do that.”
SC: “It just that I rat there”
Me: “Pardon?”
…just that rat there. Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue rat there. I feel like I’m slowly uncovering some sort of ancient code or prophecy. Being channeled through the mouth of an imbecile by powers unknown.
SC: “Just that I ride there.”
Me: “…what, sorry?”
….ride….here? You don’t even have horses up there. The only thing large enough to carry your weight would be a polar bear, but good luck saddling one of them up. Not that I think it’s a bad idea, granted. By all means, please, go try and saddle one of them up.
SC: “I ordered…..horse…..and women’s shoes and for his cat earlier.”
Me: “….”
Ok, so you do mean a horse. To ride here with. To collect your chesty dam snue. Right, got it.
SC: “My daughter came along and she decided to order”
Me: “Alright, I can’t add-
SC: “Ok, I’ll just order by different……………..email than.”
….order by different email….right, ok, so Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue rat horse ride email. We’re getting closer to gathering all the clues….
Me: “…..what, sorry?”
SC: “Its….Roberto FrostyNuts”
Me: “…..you’d like to place this order than?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “Alright. What was the name again sorry?”
SC: “Roberto FrostyNuts. R-O-B-E-R.”
Me: “R-O-B-E-R……........T-O?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “and the last name was FrostyNuts?”
SC: “R-O-C-K………..”
Me: “….what was that sorry?”
SC: “R-O-C-K-C-U-N-T"
Me: “R-O-C-K-C-U-N-T?"
SC: “R-O-C-K-C-A-N-T"
Me: “C-a-n?”
SC: “Yes”
Me: “That’s the last name?”
SC: "Yes.”
Me: “Ok, and the phone number please?”
Amazingly, I manage to collect the rest of the relevant information without incident in what I assume is the one daily lucid moment this guy has.
Me: “Alright, that will come to xxxx than and should arrive in about two weeks-”
SC: “Um…..he also would like to place another order.”
Me: “A third order?”
To add to the first order that was already placed earlier and the second order you just placed? You’ve already wasted $40 on additional shipping. You’re going to try for $80 now?
SC: “Uh. Can I ask you. If you get the xxxx?”
Me: “….xxx-“
SC: : “Did you get that one?”
Me: “What was the number again?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Alright, you wanted to place another order for this?”
SC: “We also would like da….other…..uh…other thing you just called.”
Me: “……….”
Other thing I just called…..?
SC: “uh….<slightly different number>”
….wait, what happened to <first ID number>?
Me: “Ok, so you want to place another order for this item?”
SC: “Yes. Two item………please”
Me: “Alright, but you wanted to place another order for these, correct?”
SC: “Yes.”
Me: “O-“
SC: "Da-”
Me: “Ok so the first one is x-“
SC: “Did you get first one?”
Me: “Yes, I already got the first one. This is why I’m asking, would you like to place another order for this one?”
SC: “Yes, my daughter also like the otter”
Bing Cat o’ log chesty dam snue rat horse ride email otter.
Me: “Alright, but I can’t add that to the first order. I need to know everything you want to begin with.”
SC: “…………..is dat ok, I just take them separately. I buy them.”
Me: “Sir, are you sure?”
It does mean changing the bulb.
SC: “But my daughter is asking for another item. Can. Can we order them also?”
Me: “Ok, what’s the item?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Ok, what size?”
SC: “Small.”
Me: “Alright. Was there anything else?”
SC: “No, just those two items.”
Me: “…ok, so this is the only one for this order?”
SC: “Yes.”
Me: “Alright is it the same name?”
SC: “Yes. Same address. Same name. Same…..everything.”
Me: “Ok, that’s going to come t-“
SC: “We call from Nunavut”
Me: “…yes, so your total comes to xxx and will arrive in about two weeks…with the other two orders.”
SC: “Ok. Thanks.”
I’m surprised he didn’t just end the call with “Fuck you, Darwin!”.
Ah yes, right. There’s still the matter of the code……the complete code appears to be: Bing Cat o’log chesty dam snue rat horse ride email otter. Right….ok, so we have four mammals: Cat, rat, horse and otter. Than “chesty”….which….well ok there’s really only one way to interpret that….however! It does refer to mammary glands, and thus again, mammals. Ok, so, all clues point towards mammals and/or possibly…er…mammary glands.
That leaves dam, log, snue, ride and email. Ok, so dam….made of logs….beaver. Beavers, another mammal! Or….slang for….eh…ok nevermind, we’re going to a weird place. Ok, so, mammory glands…um…beaver. So that leaves bing, snue, ride and email.
Bing is the sound <call software> makes when something comes in on one of my lines. So line....than ride.....um.....lets just leave that one. Snue.....? Wait. Snu.....snu.....ride. Line.....email.......mammory glands, beaver? Wait a sec.....
I'm really a woman, drop me a line at my email because I want to ride you? ><
Yes, that’s right. I either have the most over-active imagination possible or I am a goddamn genius.
Office Feedback
Me: “Ok, and what is your zip code, please?”
SC: “I just wanna leave a number.”
Me: "Alright, bu-“
SC: “It’s xxx”
Me: “Ok, but I need at l-“
SC: “-xxx-”
Me: “I need at least a zip code to make sure to have the closest office to you ca-"
SC: “-xxxx”
You know, this reminds me of a question I’ve been meaning to ask: Why don’t we have a tiger pit again? We’re missing a golden opportunity here you know. A tiger pit would expand our possible business ventures, keep caller’s in line and increase employee QA scores.
I mean if we had at least one or two feral tigers barely restrained at each of our branch locations which were fed only a diet of raw meat wearing headsets with catalogs stapled too them think of the overall productivity we’d gain. Plus we’d reduce if not outright eliminate problem callers. They’d also double as building security. Think of the money we’d save.
We could probably only fit one in here. Maybe in the utility closet in the server room. We’d have to name him Tony of course. Than when any operator misbehaved or had low QA scores, you could just leave a handful of Frosted Flakes in their locker. That'd straighten them the fuck out pretty quick.
Come to think of it I’ll have to rescind what I said about devouring too.
Worth a Shot
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yeah, uh, that is, uh, tha, um, and, er, ya-“
If I kick you in the head will I get better reception?
Salvaging
Me: “I’m afraid those items on the website are online only. You can only get that price if you order online.”
SC: “Uh….how I do that?”
Ho ho no. I’m not falling for that. It’s a miracle for your recently acquired opposable thumbs you even have and were able to operate a computer to get to the website to begin with. I sure as heck am not about to even attempt to walk you through placing an order online. I value what little of my sanity I have left, thank you.
Heck, how did you even get a computer up there to begin with? Did a passenger plane crash nearby?
Beatbox Hero
Gah, the things I endure on public transit. This evening there was a quartet on my train of typical gangsta wannabes. I didn’t think much of them at first and was pleasantly enjoying my post work Skytrain nap when I heard something. Something…..bizarre. Which prompted me to rouse from my slumber and look up in the offending direction.
One of them was making…..noise. Odd noise. It took me a moment to realize he was actually attempting to beatbox. Except he was only capable of two noises. Of which I can only describe as “pop” and “spit”. And only in one note. Plus, he was merely alternating the noises. So he was simply sitting there doing a monotone performance of spit, pop, spit, pop, spit, pop, spit, pop. Which, talent wise, puts him just a step below a 4 year old imitating a Rice Crispies commercial.
If you’re unfamiliar with beatboxing, it is essentially the art of pretending you have musical talent without actually learning to play any instruments. It ranks just below rap on the list of things that are incredibly sad and annoying to watch when performed by someone that has utterly no talent for it. Though rap still edges it out in the end. Because there is really nothing more pathetic and aggravating to be behold than someone who thinks they can rap.
Still, I might have let his simple stupidity pass………but than the second guy joined in. The second guy was likewise only capable of two noises, but had mastered two notes so he was flying his flag slightly higher on the fail pole than the first guy. But they were still only generating 3 different notes between the two of them. Why they were doing this however, was still escaping me.
And than, of course, the third guy joined in. But he couldn’t beatbox so he was humming in an attempt to add synth to the mix. He could hum all of three notes. Though one of them was the same as the first three his cronies were capable of. So in total they are generating five unique notes. Which means that between all three of them they’re almost capable of providing a bass line for a Hannah Montana song.
I anxiously waited to see what the fourth guy would attempt to board the fail boat with, however he had pulled out his cellphone and was filming the performance of the other three. Although I noticed he was doing everything in his power to make sure he wasn’t in the shot and refused to speak whenever it was recording. I’m guessing in an attempt to ensure he never had to admit he was with these people. A wise move on his part.
Not content with their original performance ( Which clocked in at 6 and a half minutes according to camera guy ) synth boy began attempting to add different noises to the mix. Specifically he began attempting to add female back up vocals. Why in God’s name you would attempt this is beyond me. But he wasn’t about to let reason or shame stop him. So away he went. Sounding exactly like a grown man doing a bad impression of a little girl with laryngitis.
The their credit, the other two told him to stop doing it almost immediately. Than they began discussing their plans for this evening….which apparently involved going to Stanley Park and performing for the masses. Wow. You know, just because you B ranked the Bohemian Rhapsody on Beatbox Hero 3 doesn’t mean you actually have a shred of talent, guys.
They than resumed performing….this performance literally continued the entire way to downtown, so over 15 minutes. During which back up vocal guy began to RAP. Thus instantly combining the two saddest possible things to behold when performed by people that don’t have a shred of talent for either. So we have awful beatboxing AND horrible, horrible rapping. Two separate fronts of exquisite human failure colliding over a single point to form the perfect storm of human shame.
I actually facepalmed myself at that point. For which one of them gave me a dirty look. But they pressed onward. Hell, they were still going when I got off the train.
I assume they’re at Stanley Park as we speak. Living the dream.
Ingenuity
Oh, failure. How I missed your pungent aroma and mind numbing goodness. I mean it’s literally been all of 3 hours since I last saw you! I feared I would waste away, but oh! What’s this?! Fortune kisses my forehead! For you have come back to me!
<cough> Ok, melodrama aside. Tonight’s poor victim was traveling by American Airlines ( truly, an infallible purveyor of sky chariot services ), but they canceled his flight. So he received a voucher for a hotel room, booked a hotel and arrived at the hotel…..
….annnd their front desk calls me because American Airlines, in their infinite wisdom and high quality customer service, did not give him a voucher. They gave him a photocopy of someone else’s voucher. Which the hotel can’t accept. So he’s already at the hotel, but can’t get the room now. The worst part about this is some AA employee at the airport probably thinks they’re rather ingenious.
So I speak with the front desk clerk for a minute or two before he asks if I want to talk to the passenger to explain it. I concede, against my better judgment, resulting in this conversation:
DC: “Did you want to talk to him and explain it?”
Me: “Alright”
DC: “Ok, one moment…..”
Me: “……”
P: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi.”
P: “You speak Spanish!?”
Me: “No, I don’t sorry.”
P: “….no hablo Englais…”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t speak Spanish either….”
Yes, that’s right. The clerk spoke with me for a few minutes in perfect English, than offered to let me speak to the passenger, without giving me a heads up that the passenger only speaks Spanish. Something that would have be rather helpful. Why did he do this, you ask?
I assume because the rich chocolately cake of failure isn’t complete without icing.
Vocabulary
Me: “Alright, and what’s the problem?”
SC: “We’re having trouble with the an updation”
Updation. That is not a word. Please stop that. That’s the sort of non-word the computer illiterate latch onto than begin to use on the computer literate when they call us for tech support.
Sure, you scoff now, but 6 months from now your mom is going to call you and complain that ever since she installed an updation for Adoobie Flash the internets looks funny whenever she clicks on FieryFox.
Argh
Me: “Alright, and your phone number please?”
SC: “Phone number?”
Me: “Yes, do you have a phone number there?”
SC: “I have my cell phone.”
Me: “Ok, what’s the number to it?”
SC: “To what? My cell phone?”
Me: “Yes.”
Please answer the door soon, my knuckles are starting to get sore.
I Want It That Way
Dammit, this city is…..special. On so many levels. Where to begin….
I wasn’t even safe going home this morning. I was safe until this spindly little guy got on halfway home. Looked perfectly normal, listening to an iPod. Even managed to act normal for a stop or so. Till suddenly he belted out “I WAAAAAANNNNT IT THAT WAY!” at the top of his lungs. Yes, he started yelling the Backstreet Boys. I wouldn’t call it singing. Singing involves melody. This was just yelling it as loud as possible.
After screeching like a wounded elk, he looked around excitedly. I assume to see if he had managed to annoy anyone. But, this is Vancouver. We’re desensitized to crazy. So everyone was pretty much ignoring him. Saddened, he resolved to try even harder next time and again belted out the main refrain…..than proceeded to start singing the entire song at the top of his goddamn lungs.
Now he’s bothering people and seemingly enjoying every damn minute of it. The more obnoxious and aggravating he is, the more pleasure he seems to be deriving from the annoyance and uncomfortable looks from other passengers. They seemed to feed him. Give him power.
This continued for another stop or so until was no longer content with the level of aural suffering he was inflicted…..so he got up and started dancing as well. Dancing the entire sequence that goes along with the song. And yes, he danced about as well as he could sing. Which is to say like a monkey on the business end of a tazer.
Still, his display just wasn’t quite enough. He just wasn’t utterly aggravating every living human being within 30 feet yet. He had to have MOAR. Shame be damned. So he started going over to people on the far end of the train and air humping in front of them as he sang. At this point I’m wondering if this is on camera, because there is no way any one person could seriously be doing this without some sort of cash prize involved.
He seemed to be paying particular attention to one older guy at the end of the train, who I’m really surprised didn’t smack him or throw his coffee in the guy’s crotch as it was gyrating a mere 2 feet from his face. So bravo to him for his restraint. Luckily, the Backstreet Primate didn’t come down to my end of the Skytrain to test my restraint. As I’m unsure just how much patience I’d have left to test right after getting off work.
He finally got off at Metrotown, thankfully. Because in all blunt honesty that’s the kind of person you punch in the face and don’t regret a moment of it even after it goes to trial.
You Did What?
You know, it’s pretty damn stupid to drive drunk to begin with. But to drive drunk and than attempt to drive across the border is particularly special. Rubber glove contraband search special.
On Please. Shove off.
Alright....let me get this straight
1) You want to stay at a resort
2) This resort's rooms are on sale as of yesterday
3) You didn't call to book yesterday
4) So you're calling today, because you MUST have a room from this sale. NOW.
5) But of course, the travel agency is not open on the weekends.
6) OMFG WHAT IF THEY SELL OUT
Right, ok. Now.....what exactly do you want me to do? I cannot bend time and space to force anyone to come into the office on the weekend. They're not open on the weekend. I cannot change this. Irregardless of what you say.
No, I can't put you through to a supervisor. There is no one in the office.
No, I can't put you through to the owner. THERE IS NO ONE IN THE OFFICE.
No, I can't put you through to another office. They have the same hours. NO. ONE. IN. OFFICES.
I could leave a message for you and indicate the resort you'd like to book as well as the desired details....? No? Just going to keep ranting at me like a giga-twat? Alright.
What the hell is going on here. Where the fuck did you come from anyway? Did you call Dave first and he hung up on you?
The Botanist
( Likely the sidekick of the Night Waterer )
But wait! There’s more! Because this is Vancouver. One of the benefits(?) of it being quiet in the office on graveyard is that you can hear whenever there’s a commotion outside in the street. Of which there was this evening. Out front. Curious, I went to peek out the window.
Annnd there’s a woman across the street, at the building across from us....in their garden…..um…gardening? Furiously? She looks a little wobbly. Like Jack Daniels wobbly.....and still has her purse. But she appears to be gardening. Or, well, alternating between raking with a stick and angrily beating the living fuck out of one of the plants with kung fu kicks and stomps.
She seemed to do just enough sort of legitimate gardening like work to make it look official. But it was always broken up by moments of intoxicated rage towards one of the plants. Still, I’m highly doubtful the building across from us employs a landscaper who only works from 3am to 4am on the weekends.
At some point a car pulled up next to her and the driver said something. She than spent the next 10 minutes or so drunkenly attempting to pantomime what she was doing to the driver. Which seemed to involve a lot of stick swinging and stumbling in a circle. After which point she began tearing off her cloths(?!) and tossing them on the car’s hood. Though luckily, she stopped when she got to her tank top. Than she had a smoke. The car left. And she resumed prune assaulting the garden.
I’m not sure how long this went on as she was already at it when I glanced out around 3am and I just noticed her stumbling off at 4. She could have been out there all night before that. Only reason I looked out was because I heard a couple of guys loudly cheering her on.
Update: Ok, <coworker> informs me that this person’s name is actually Lisa and she is indeed gardening in an attempt to make the sidewalk “safe” because it’s a “fire hazard”. She’s been out there introducing herself to everyone that passes by. This is purely a volunteer service on her part. Coming out at 3am to beat the hell out of your plants so they don’t catch fire.
Duly noted.
....
Me: “Ok, and your name please?”
SC: “Bella Booty”
Good night, folks!
Thats enough pain for now, mayhaps more later... ><
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