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Much Ado About Canola Oil
As I am burning out lately ( Badly, I might add ), I've been trying to scale back the amount of writing I do at work. So I apologize for the smaller size of this week's edition.....well, comparatively anyhow.
Hopefully the strangeness of this week will make up for it. =p
Hot Tips
It seems our regular vortex of mental instability has listened to my pleas for new material and has abandoned his beloved Prince Charles. In favour of Karl Marx. Yes, the foundation of communism. This is his new obsession. Now, poor Prince Charles was wrung through the mud rather brutally over the course of the years. Being labeled everything from a pedophile to Charles Manson to the Anti-Christ to Jack the Ripper or Jack the Ripper’s grandson or some such insanity or something. With such high points reached during the first season it’ll be hard to top it in the second season.
So what did poor Karl Marx allegedly do? Well, if our nocturnal informant is to be believed ( Something likely only possible on a mixture of potent narcotics ) than Karl Marx kept a harem of nubile young boys in his house for his unspeakable pleasures. This is why the church didn’t like him, because he had a nubile boy harem. He didn’t like the church either because they didn’t like him keeping his nubile boy harem. I’m not entirely sure what church this is supposed to be as he did not indicate what faith or denomination Marx was at odds with over his nubile boy harem.
Sigh
Me: “Alright, what size?”
SC: “3XL”
Me: “Alright. Anything else?”
SC: “Uhhh…………”
Me: “…..?”
SC: “I didn’t check for anything else….”
….no, did you want anything else? Not is there anything else in the catalog. I know there are other things in the catalog. I do not require you to verify this for me. A catalog that consisted of only one item would not be a catalog. It would be a flier. And I would have left it pinned under the windshield wiper of your dogsled. So that you might have a pleasant surprise when you returned to your chosen method of transportation. My random act of blatant capitalism would none the less brighten your day and give your life purpose. For I am simply that generous and giving of my heart.
Now take your pants and fuck off.
.....er
Ok, right. There are a few things I can assist you with: Taking messages for staff. Contacting emergency services. Providing office hours. If any of those sounds similar to your actual purpose for calling. Please say so and I will do my utmost to assist you. That being said…
There are some things I cannot assist you with: I cannot answer any questions regarding our clients products and business practices. I do not know if they sell canola oil. I do not know why they called you 4 months ago. No, really, I can’t tell you about their products. I am an afterhours message service for them. I am not them specifically. No, I do not know if they sell canola oil. What is it with you and canola oil? No, seriously, if you have any questions you’ll have to speak with the office after 8am pacific time. Yes, 8am pacific. No I don’t know if you’re in pacific time. You should know that.
Jeebus, leave me alone. What is wrong with you?
......excuse me?
Calling back to repeat the exactly same series of questions and then implying our business may or may deal in child prostitution will not endear me to you, you feeble minded little dick mite. I do not know who your parents are but they have my deepest sympathies for having to live with the guilt of having brought you upon the world on a daily basis. If there were any justice in this world a benevolent alien race in the distance future would be pained by the troubled past of our civilization and travel back through time with a condom.
It is beyond me why you seem to have this focus on <company> that no amount of logic or reason can shake you from. All stemming from the fact they called you once 4 months ago. I can only assume that 4 months ago you were happily stalking the cashier girl at Hot Topic but now that she’s finally gotten a restraining order your heart has been broken and you must fill that void. Then you remembered that once, just once, four months ago someone actually called you voluntarily that was not a telemarketer or a parole officer.
And that someone was <company>.
.......
As you clearly have not yet realized this, I will point it out: You’re still talking to the same person. Though I must admit I do find it somewhat amusing that each time you call you revert back to complete innocence. Hoping that perhaps this time, this time your dashing charms will net you the answers you crave. Which, is, of course whether or not we sell canola oil. Yet I must, for the 3rd time, shatter the fragile mirror of your hopes and dreams by committing the sin of asking you call back at a reasonable time and speak with <company> directly.
Yes, your parting shot of “You are a very bad afterhours service” was truly a cruel, poison barb in my heart that shall worm its way deep into my soul and forever taint every moment of happiness I might have between now and the merciful embrace of death at the end of my life.
I weep.
....ok?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “I do.”
Alright, you seem to have heard a completely different question than the one I actually asked.
Just a Quick Note
Attention flailing white boy on Skytrain: You know those iPod commercials where people dance like twits with their white earbuds on? Yeah, that's not actually cool and you should stop right now. In fact, in public its kind of pathetic and in some cases even somewhat frightening to onlookers.
You are one of those cases.
The Jolly, Candy Like Button
SC: “You know that little red button you ain’t never not suppose to click on? One of my guys clicked on it.”
Ah yes….the Ain’t Never Not button. Of course. A singular mechanism by which an individual may bring about unspecified catastrophe upon his entire establishment with. Coded into all of <company>'s products as a cruel joke upon the end user. Now that one of your staff has foolishly pressed it, there’s no telling what sort of terrible misfortune will be wrought upon your store. It was wise of you to call us immediately, to head off any potential ill tidings bearing down on your current location this very moment.
If we act quickly we may be able to save you and your store, however, I’m afraid the employee that first clicked on the button is beyond our help. Say a prayer for him and warn his family to flee the city.
<shrug>
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hi-sorry…I forgot how to pronounce your name.”
You also forgot to ask what my name was, so no worries.
Hot Tips
Uncle Vick called to say he found listening devices outside of his home and suspects it was our doing. Because truly the security of America as a whole depends entirely on listening in on some random Canadian's front lawn. Of course, Uncle Vick isn’t calling to complain about his home being bugged. He’s actually calling to let us know that he’s moving soon so if we want to keep tabs on him we’ll have to move the listening devices to his new address.
Yes that’s right. He’s not concerned that we might be monitoring him. He’s concerned the we might stop monitoring him. As in it would make him sad and hurt his feelings if we stopped caring about him.
He also asked that I pass along his change of address to the CIA, CSIS and the NSA. You know, just to keep their records updated. In case they want to "look him up" as he put it.
I assured him I'd let them know.
OH GOD
Oh sweet mercy. Coming out of Granville this evening I ran headlong into a mobile stagette party. Headed by a grain-fed woman easily 3 times my size in a bridal veil with a sign that said “Suck 4 a Buck”. In that moment I truly knew the meaning of fear. I’ll admit I did freeze like a deer in the headlights for a moment. Luckily, much like a T-Rex, she apparently can't see you if you don’t move and they roved on past me.
I’m not ashamed to admit I didn’t feel safe till I got nside the office here behind 3 locked doors.
Thats Two now, Go Me
Tenant called to complain that the upstairs neighbour has tile floors and has the audacity to actually walk around their own home at night. Thus causing more noise than the caller can bare. Somehow. But anyway this is a horrible cacophony of racket that requires the attention of her “portfolio manager”. Because walking around at night is a sign of drug addiction……apparently ( I guess I’m utterly strung out than. Who knew. ). This is just not normal behaviour. Being awake at night and walking. But her car has been stomped on…I guess by the Walker? Which forced her to pay a $300 deductable. But anyway there needs to be some sort of “investigation” into this person and their walk, walk, walking on her bedroom floor.
The Fate of a Nation
Me: “Good evening, <lawyer's office>”
SC: “Oh my goodness, you really do give 24 hour service! My name is Bob and I a terrible problem.”
Me: “Are you a client of ours?”
SC: “No, no I’m not but I need help! It’s a tax situation that’s very peculiar.”
Me: “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to give legal advice at this hour. You’d have to be a client of ours-“
SC: “Oh, well, can I leave you with my number and you call me? Doe you give a free consult?”
Me: “I’m not sure, unfortunately. I’m only here for afterhours emergencies.”
Sounds reasonable normal so far right? Ya, well, we’re about to exit reasonable and pull into the on ramp of surreal.
SC: “Well, here’s where I am. There’s these crooked family trusts from the states. The good old PUS of A. ( yes, he said PUSA ) I left the rotten place, renounced the citizenship in 67. Because I didn’t want to be a clay pigeon for the rich pigs down there. Now the rich pig that owned me and my mother all my life. Cus that’s how it is when you’re poor relation to a rich pig, you’re their property. We could never quite get it together here because this crooked accountant rascal that worked for him kept setting up one tax sting after another. But things are out of hand now, he’s trying to force me to sign a fraudulent US tax return to illegally collect social security from my pig. I won’t do that, I don’t want to go to jail. I’ve never done anything wrong in my life. Never been in trouble with the law. But this is a good way to do it in a hurry.”
Did you get that? No? Ok, let me try and reprise: He fled from PUSA because he’s owned by a rich pig, whose accountant rascal kept pulling “tax stings” on him. But now this rascal is trying to get him to sign his pig up for social security. Got it? Yes, his pig. He said pig. Quite clearly.
SC: “He’s threatening to have the tax leeches take away my little trailer and my groceries. I can’t live! Dirty rat! This could lead to a huge scandal and investigation down in the States with political implications. This could be a monster case!”
If he doesn’t sign his pig up, the leeches will come and take his groceries. Somehow this could shake the very foundations of American politics. Trying to steal the groceries of a guy that lives in a trailer with his pig. Clearly this is the very lynchpin that would bring down Congress as we know it. Fuck health care reform, America is teetering on the back of Babe.
Definitions
Me: “Alright, does it still leak when you shut the faucet off?”
SC: “Hmm, I don’t think so. Maybe a little. Can you send someone in the morning or?”
Me: “Well, I can send maintenance out tonight if it’s an emergency. That’s why I was asking.”
SC: “It’s an emergency! I want to do my dishes.”
Clearly we have vastly different definitions of the word “emergency”. I’m operating on the standard English definition of the word which is “A serious situation or occurrence that happens unexpectedly and demands immediate action.”. You however, seem to be retroactively applying this definition to the word “Inconvenience”. Which normally is “An inconvenient circumstance or thing which causes trouble or discomfort.”. By operating on this scale, I would assume that an actual emergency to me would, to you, fall around the definition “Any universal or widespread destruction or disaster. Total devastation or doom.”
Which is, of course, the standard definition of “apocalypse.”
annnnd rest.....for now.
Hopefully the strangeness of this week will make up for it. =p
Hot Tips
It seems our regular vortex of mental instability has listened to my pleas for new material and has abandoned his beloved Prince Charles. In favour of Karl Marx. Yes, the foundation of communism. This is his new obsession. Now, poor Prince Charles was wrung through the mud rather brutally over the course of the years. Being labeled everything from a pedophile to Charles Manson to the Anti-Christ to Jack the Ripper or Jack the Ripper’s grandson or some such insanity or something. With such high points reached during the first season it’ll be hard to top it in the second season.
So what did poor Karl Marx allegedly do? Well, if our nocturnal informant is to be believed ( Something likely only possible on a mixture of potent narcotics ) than Karl Marx kept a harem of nubile young boys in his house for his unspeakable pleasures. This is why the church didn’t like him, because he had a nubile boy harem. He didn’t like the church either because they didn’t like him keeping his nubile boy harem. I’m not entirely sure what church this is supposed to be as he did not indicate what faith or denomination Marx was at odds with over his nubile boy harem.
Sigh
Me: “Alright, what size?”
SC: “3XL”
Me: “Alright. Anything else?”
SC: “Uhhh…………”
Me: “…..?”
SC: “I didn’t check for anything else….”
….no, did you want anything else? Not is there anything else in the catalog. I know there are other things in the catalog. I do not require you to verify this for me. A catalog that consisted of only one item would not be a catalog. It would be a flier. And I would have left it pinned under the windshield wiper of your dogsled. So that you might have a pleasant surprise when you returned to your chosen method of transportation. My random act of blatant capitalism would none the less brighten your day and give your life purpose. For I am simply that generous and giving of my heart.
Now take your pants and fuck off.
.....er
Ok, right. There are a few things I can assist you with: Taking messages for staff. Contacting emergency services. Providing office hours. If any of those sounds similar to your actual purpose for calling. Please say so and I will do my utmost to assist you. That being said…
There are some things I cannot assist you with: I cannot answer any questions regarding our clients products and business practices. I do not know if they sell canola oil. I do not know why they called you 4 months ago. No, really, I can’t tell you about their products. I am an afterhours message service for them. I am not them specifically. No, I do not know if they sell canola oil. What is it with you and canola oil? No, seriously, if you have any questions you’ll have to speak with the office after 8am pacific time. Yes, 8am pacific. No I don’t know if you’re in pacific time. You should know that.
Jeebus, leave me alone. What is wrong with you?
......excuse me?
Calling back to repeat the exactly same series of questions and then implying our business may or may deal in child prostitution will not endear me to you, you feeble minded little dick mite. I do not know who your parents are but they have my deepest sympathies for having to live with the guilt of having brought you upon the world on a daily basis. If there were any justice in this world a benevolent alien race in the distance future would be pained by the troubled past of our civilization and travel back through time with a condom.
It is beyond me why you seem to have this focus on <company> that no amount of logic or reason can shake you from. All stemming from the fact they called you once 4 months ago. I can only assume that 4 months ago you were happily stalking the cashier girl at Hot Topic but now that she’s finally gotten a restraining order your heart has been broken and you must fill that void. Then you remembered that once, just once, four months ago someone actually called you voluntarily that was not a telemarketer or a parole officer.
And that someone was <company>.
.......
As you clearly have not yet realized this, I will point it out: You’re still talking to the same person. Though I must admit I do find it somewhat amusing that each time you call you revert back to complete innocence. Hoping that perhaps this time, this time your dashing charms will net you the answers you crave. Which, is, of course whether or not we sell canola oil. Yet I must, for the 3rd time, shatter the fragile mirror of your hopes and dreams by committing the sin of asking you call back at a reasonable time and speak with <company> directly.
Yes, your parting shot of “You are a very bad afterhours service” was truly a cruel, poison barb in my heart that shall worm its way deep into my soul and forever taint every moment of happiness I might have between now and the merciful embrace of death at the end of my life.
I weep.
....ok?
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “I do.”
Alright, you seem to have heard a completely different question than the one I actually asked.
Just a Quick Note
Attention flailing white boy on Skytrain: You know those iPod commercials where people dance like twits with their white earbuds on? Yeah, that's not actually cool and you should stop right now. In fact, in public its kind of pathetic and in some cases even somewhat frightening to onlookers.
You are one of those cases.
The Jolly, Candy Like Button
SC: “You know that little red button you ain’t never not suppose to click on? One of my guys clicked on it.”
Ah yes….the Ain’t Never Not button. Of course. A singular mechanism by which an individual may bring about unspecified catastrophe upon his entire establishment with. Coded into all of <company>'s products as a cruel joke upon the end user. Now that one of your staff has foolishly pressed it, there’s no telling what sort of terrible misfortune will be wrought upon your store. It was wise of you to call us immediately, to head off any potential ill tidings bearing down on your current location this very moment.
If we act quickly we may be able to save you and your store, however, I’m afraid the employee that first clicked on the button is beyond our help. Say a prayer for him and warn his family to flee the city.
<shrug>
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Hi-sorry…I forgot how to pronounce your name.”
You also forgot to ask what my name was, so no worries.
Hot Tips
Uncle Vick called to say he found listening devices outside of his home and suspects it was our doing. Because truly the security of America as a whole depends entirely on listening in on some random Canadian's front lawn. Of course, Uncle Vick isn’t calling to complain about his home being bugged. He’s actually calling to let us know that he’s moving soon so if we want to keep tabs on him we’ll have to move the listening devices to his new address.
Yes that’s right. He’s not concerned that we might be monitoring him. He’s concerned the we might stop monitoring him. As in it would make him sad and hurt his feelings if we stopped caring about him.
He also asked that I pass along his change of address to the CIA, CSIS and the NSA. You know, just to keep their records updated. In case they want to "look him up" as he put it.
I assured him I'd let them know.
OH GOD
Oh sweet mercy. Coming out of Granville this evening I ran headlong into a mobile stagette party. Headed by a grain-fed woman easily 3 times my size in a bridal veil with a sign that said “Suck 4 a Buck”. In that moment I truly knew the meaning of fear. I’ll admit I did freeze like a deer in the headlights for a moment. Luckily, much like a T-Rex, she apparently can't see you if you don’t move and they roved on past me.
I’m not ashamed to admit I didn’t feel safe till I got nside the office here behind 3 locked doors.
Thats Two now, Go Me
Tenant called to complain that the upstairs neighbour has tile floors and has the audacity to actually walk around their own home at night. Thus causing more noise than the caller can bare. Somehow. But anyway this is a horrible cacophony of racket that requires the attention of her “portfolio manager”. Because walking around at night is a sign of drug addiction……apparently ( I guess I’m utterly strung out than. Who knew. ). This is just not normal behaviour. Being awake at night and walking. But her car has been stomped on…I guess by the Walker? Which forced her to pay a $300 deductable. But anyway there needs to be some sort of “investigation” into this person and their walk, walk, walking on her bedroom floor.
The Fate of a Nation
Me: “Good evening, <lawyer's office>”
SC: “Oh my goodness, you really do give 24 hour service! My name is Bob and I a terrible problem.”
Me: “Are you a client of ours?”
SC: “No, no I’m not but I need help! It’s a tax situation that’s very peculiar.”
Me: “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to give legal advice at this hour. You’d have to be a client of ours-“
SC: “Oh, well, can I leave you with my number and you call me? Doe you give a free consult?”
Me: “I’m not sure, unfortunately. I’m only here for afterhours emergencies.”
Sounds reasonable normal so far right? Ya, well, we’re about to exit reasonable and pull into the on ramp of surreal.
SC: “Well, here’s where I am. There’s these crooked family trusts from the states. The good old PUS of A. ( yes, he said PUSA ) I left the rotten place, renounced the citizenship in 67. Because I didn’t want to be a clay pigeon for the rich pigs down there. Now the rich pig that owned me and my mother all my life. Cus that’s how it is when you’re poor relation to a rich pig, you’re their property. We could never quite get it together here because this crooked accountant rascal that worked for him kept setting up one tax sting after another. But things are out of hand now, he’s trying to force me to sign a fraudulent US tax return to illegally collect social security from my pig. I won’t do that, I don’t want to go to jail. I’ve never done anything wrong in my life. Never been in trouble with the law. But this is a good way to do it in a hurry.”
Did you get that? No? Ok, let me try and reprise: He fled from PUSA because he’s owned by a rich pig, whose accountant rascal kept pulling “tax stings” on him. But now this rascal is trying to get him to sign his pig up for social security. Got it? Yes, his pig. He said pig. Quite clearly.
SC: “He’s threatening to have the tax leeches take away my little trailer and my groceries. I can’t live! Dirty rat! This could lead to a huge scandal and investigation down in the States with political implications. This could be a monster case!”
If he doesn’t sign his pig up, the leeches will come and take his groceries. Somehow this could shake the very foundations of American politics. Trying to steal the groceries of a guy that lives in a trailer with his pig. Clearly this is the very lynchpin that would bring down Congress as we know it. Fuck health care reform, America is teetering on the back of Babe.
Definitions
Me: “Alright, does it still leak when you shut the faucet off?”
SC: “Hmm, I don’t think so. Maybe a little. Can you send someone in the morning or?”
Me: “Well, I can send maintenance out tonight if it’s an emergency. That’s why I was asking.”
SC: “It’s an emergency! I want to do my dishes.”
Clearly we have vastly different definitions of the word “emergency”. I’m operating on the standard English definition of the word which is “A serious situation or occurrence that happens unexpectedly and demands immediate action.”. You however, seem to be retroactively applying this definition to the word “Inconvenience”. Which normally is “An inconvenient circumstance or thing which causes trouble or discomfort.”. By operating on this scale, I would assume that an actual emergency to me would, to you, fall around the definition “Any universal or widespread destruction or disaster. Total devastation or doom.”
Which is, of course, the standard definition of “apocalypse.”
annnnd rest.....for now.
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