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Security Factor 5
I know I know, I'm late. =p
Yeah, Thanks.
Me: “All right, and the house address?"
SC: “Uh…..the one I’m living in.”
Yes….thank you for that. Truly, that statement contained any and all relevant information I required to answer my inquiry. It’s all so clear to me now, I should have realized that I already knew exactly who you were and where you lived and just filled in the entire form myself. I didn’t have to bother you at all. You could have just called up and grunted, and I would have gone “Oh! Why hello, Mr Peterson. Of course, I shall have them call you right away.”
It was foolish of me, I apologize. The second you opened your mouth I should have seen the light from the blindingly obvious being emitted from the back of your tonsils. A flare of enlightenment so powerful that 4 and a half light years from now the inhabits of Alpha Centari will look towards us in the sky and go “Oooh, so that’s where Mr Peterson lives. Of course”.
Curse you, Dudley Doright
Me: “Alright, and which catalog will you be ordering from?”
SC: “Uh….cap.”
Ah….you’re one of those. Sigh, very well. Bring it on then. Let us get this sad charade over with.
Me: “Alright, but which catalog do you have? Spring? Summer? Fall?”
SC: “You mean da catalog number?”
Me: “Yes, please”
SC: “xxxx”
…..No, that’s the product number. I assume for the cap you’re seeking. Sigh, I see we have a bit of a run away train here. Alright, fine. Fetch me my horse.
Me: “Alright, but which catalog is it in? Is it the summer catalog? The fall catalog?”
SC: “Uuhhh………uh…..one minute………”
Me: “………..”
( I guess he was being literal, as I heard only him rummaging around and talking to himself for a full minute and a half. )
SC: “…..uh, Fall.”
There, that wasn't so bad was it? Sure, I had to gallantly ride along side your steam driven train of thought, leap onto the side of the engine and successfully wrestle the shovel away from the fevered gorilla desperately shoveling coal into the fiery maw of your stupidity. But at least we've successfully complete the first question of the call. Only 8 more to go!
Our City's Finest
A quick note to the Vancouver PD: If some guy stumbles off the Skytrain and dies on the platform, could you at least throw a jacket or something over him? I mean I work in customer service so I’m already a hollow shell of a human being so it doesn’t bother me really. Hell, I'm on my way to work so I almost envy the guy. However, the large crowd of horrified onlookers on the Skytrain you stopped at the station right next to the corpse seems mildly upset.
Also, what were you going to do with that empty duffle bag that one of you so triumphantly retrieved from the Skytrain emergency cabinet? Throw it over his head? My train pulled away before I could see your likely unwise course of action.
Likely Scenarios
SC: “I’m at the...at the jail! I’ve been accosted by the police! I have blood all over me and they wanna charge me with being over the legal limit. Which is unlikely, cus I’ve not been drinkin’!”
“Accosted”, eh? Someone has a Word a Day calendar. However, the term “accost” actually has two definitions. Allow me to go over them with you and you’ll see why I’m a bit troubled by your choice of words:
Ac-cost / [uh-kawst, uh-kost]
-verb
#1) To approach or speak to boldly or aggressively as with a demand or request.
#2) To solicit for sexual purposes.
Now you’ll pardon my confusion. It is impossible to boldly speak to someone in such a fashion as to inflict bloody injury. Which only leaves option #2. Which raises so many unsettling questions that I may simply terminate this conversation right here and now.
SC: “They beat the *&@$ out of me, I don’t know what to do!”
Alright, that makes a tad more sense and is much, much less disturbing. However, I somehow doubt they inflicted grievous bodily harm and if they did I’m willing to bet money you did something to deserve it.
Me: “Alright, is there a phone number you can be reached at there?”
SC: “I only have my cell phone and my beating stick.”
..what? Your beating stick? Is that some sort of complimentary item the police give you after you’ve been grievously beaten by them? Sort of a little memento to remember your special time together? Or does it have “I was a victim of police brutality and all I got was this lousy stick” engraved on the side?
SC: “Can you give me any legal advice?”
Me: “I’m afraid I’m only an operator, I can’t provide legal advice”
SC: “Is there anyone else in the office that can give me legal advice?”
Me: “I’m afraid no one is in till 8am.”
SC: “Is there any number I could call to get some legal advice?”
Me: “Not that I would know off hand, sorry.”
SC: “Well, could you……..just chat with me on the phone for a while?”
Aww, sweetie. I’m sorry, but drunk, incarcerated and with a penis isn’t really my type. But I’m sure you’ll meet a wonderful guy some day. Probably some day soon considering where you're going.
SC: “Here, lemme give you over to the police”
Ah, thank you. This will give me a chance to compare notes between the two of you and decide who was being a bad boy……let’s see as far as I gather between you and the Sergeant.
Ok, lessee here....
Your story is: They totally like jumped you and beat the crap out of you, man. They say you were drunk but you totally didn’t have anything to drink tonight.
Their story is: They tried to pull you over and you took off leading them on a scenic car chase, they finally caught you, pulled you out of the car and arrested you. They’re guessing you’re drunk and/or stupid but apparently you refused the breathalyzer. So they’re automatically defaulting to drunk and kindly leaving stupid as an open possibility.
Right, now, which of these scenarios is more likely?
<3
C: “Thanks, you are the best!”
Tall praise for taking 9 seconds of my time to punch a phone number into a pager. But seeing as its remarkably accurate and incredibly insightful of her I will take it none the less.
Scenario #3
SC: “Yes, hi. I’m behind held at the police department. I’m being charged with failure to stop and a possible DUI.”
Me: “Hello, is this Rob again?”
SC: “Oh, yes, this is Rob. Did I already speak with you?”
Me: “Yes you did.”
My, you’ve suddenly become quite a bit more coherent and polite now. Let me guess, you earned a second complimentary beating stick didn’t you?
Spetacles
Ok, tonight must be a full moon. Because there are fashion combinations outside that probably should not have left the house. Combinations that came about through a mixture of colour blindness and living at home alone with nothing but a cat ( Like I do ) so there’s no one to stop them at the door and go “You’re seriously going out looking like that?”. I’m sure the cat tries, but its pitiful mews are grossly misinterpreted.
I shall highlight a single couple I saw tonight as the best example. A tall, lanky gentlemen in a bright neon orange t-shirt, purple jeans and purple shoes with neon orange shoelaces and orange green soles. Shoes and laces which I discovered, as we entered the tunnel to Granville station, actually glow in the dark as well. I am not sure what sort of image he was trying to achieve, perhaps Halloween at Peewee's, but he seemed smugly satisfied that he had achieved it.
His female companion on the other hand appears to have slain either a gold dragon or a Vegas can-can dancer, pelted them and sewn a fine undershirt of scalemail from their corpse. It was immensely….glittery…and I assume it provides +40 Fire Resistance. With this she had an equally shiny purse that cast off light like a disco ball. Perhaps woven from the same corpse. She also had on skin tight gold spandex tights on that provided +5 “Moose Knuckle”. The only break in this glittery gold theme was her shoes. Which appeared to have been forged from a mixture of rhinestones and rings of the purest Dwarven Mithril.
See this is why I pretend to be asleep on the Skytrain. Because if I open my eyes I bare witness to these….spectacles.
Wanker
I would like you to meet Frank. Frank has been calling pretty much once or twice a week to the point where he seems to be a on a first name basis with Coworker. I, however, usually manage to avoid having to encounter Frank as, well, he seems to also have a particular liking for Coworker and only calls on nights Coworker works. Having memorized Coworker’s schedule in order to maximize the quality time they spent together. So it is rare that I, myself, encounter Frank. But as my encounters are growing more frequent, he has slowly pushing himself up my annoyance meter into “Mock bitterly to your peers” territory. Thus, now, we must speak of him. Behind his back. Because he is a wanker.
Frank has an issue. ( Well, issues, is perhaps more accurate. ) An issue that has been going on for some time. It’s been going on so long even Frank can’t quite seem to decide exactly how long he’s been dealing with it. Since I recall when I talked to him last week it had been going on for a year. But this evening his estimate had inexplicably grown to 3 years. At the speed in which Frank appears to be hurdling towards the future, his time left on this Earth must be rather slim.
You see, Frank seems to be engaged in a bitter, unending struggle with Skynet. As there are accursed, unfeeling machines above his apartment which make too much noise for him to sleep. Which forces him to sleep on his couch because….well I don’t know why. But anyway, they have been making too much noise for 3 years, I assume preparing to wrest control from humanity and trigger Judgment Day to bring about our downfall. Frank has told them time and time again to be quiet but heartless robotic killing machines from the future do not have much regard for his pleas. Either that or they, like us, believe Frank to be a wanker.
The inherent problem here is Frank only ever calls about this issue at 2am. I have pleaded with Frank to attempt to contact the office during business hours if this is such a big problem for him. As all I can do for him is leave a message. But he cruelly rejects my attempts to assist him every time. Instead preferring to leave a message at 2am, than call back a week later at 2am to complain that no one heeded his last message at 2am a week ago. This pattern has repeated itself for months now. But, again, usually he bothers Coworker so I have not needed mention his name in bitter jest thus far. It is only now, that he has begun to bother me, that I have roused from my dark slumber to make mockery of his life and suffering.
Wanker #2
( Lives in the same damn building )
Not content to allow Frank to corner the ever coveted Crotchety Old Wanker That <Building> demographic, now we have Steve. Who is calling because he thinks the heat in the building is up too high. He seems to be incapable of turning down the heat himself, as I suggested. Thus he is blaming some malevolent unnamed outside force for turning the heat up in his suite of its own accord. I can only assume that this issue, like the previous one, can be attributed to Skynet. Which must be slowly beginning to initiate its plan to wipe out humanity, one uncomfortably warm middle aged man at a time.
Like Frank, Steve’s issue is actually ongoing and has been occurring all week. Also, like Frank, Steve has wisely chosen to leave it all week then call at 4am on a Sunday just to maximize his chances of not receiving a single shred of assistance.
Steve is also a wanker.
Wanker #3
3:59am:
Dispatched police to go down to <site> to waste their time waking up Bob the security guard after he failed to check in.
4:27am:
Bob calls in to do his check in. I ask him if the police had arrived on site. He says no.
4:30am:
Called police to cancel dispatch. Ask police if they were on site. Police advised they have been on site for quite some time and had been banging on doors and windows to wake Bob up.
4:32am:
Came to conclusion that Bob is also a wanker.
<sigh>
Me: “Is this for <software>?”
SC: “No.”
Me: “Alright, what software is it than?”
SC: “It’s the computer.”
Me: “…..alright, is the computer running <software>?"
SC: “Ok.”
Me: “…….er.....alright, but do you know if you have <software> on the computer?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Right, ok, time out. Before we go any further here, is there anyone else there I could speak too that perhaps has a few more functioning synapses? No offense, but I really don’t think you’re ready for the level of responsibility entailed in operating a phone. So maybe you could take a couple steps away from the counter, turn to the right and hand the receiver off to the Doritos rack? I have a feeling pre-packaged zesty cheese would be more capable of providing relevant information than you are.
Unending Struggle
Me: “Good evening, you’re paging <security guard>”
SC: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “Yeah, its Mark here. The alarm is all going off. Probably sending you guys a signal”
Me: “Ok, I'm afraid I'm just his paging service, do you need me to page him for you?”
SC: “I uh, I have to find out how to…the guard that looks after the…uh….they’re out for the evening. I don’t know how to handle it.”
Me: “Alright, but we’re only his paging service. Would you like me to page him for you?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “Alright, I’ll page-“
SC: “Oh. You’re calling who? Oh no, the number for the….people, uh, uh….uhhhhhhh…what’s my procedure? What do I do?”
Me: “I'm only his paging service, I have to page them for you and have them return your call. Ok?”
SC: “Ok. You’re gonna call….uh…..uh…..so how should I handle this? What should I do?”
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t advise you, this is ONLY a paging service."
SC: "<SIGH> fine. <click>"
Well, that was the conversational equivalent of trying to beat a brick wall at tennis.
Divination
( He's calling security )
SC: “Can you come to <street>?! I want a remove! A person from my apartment!”
Me: "<street>?"
SC: “Yes!"
Me: “..and.....you want somebody removed from your home?”
SC: “YES! I WANT EM REMOVED FROM MY APARTMENT RIGHT NOW.”
Me: “Al-“
SC: “<click>”
Oh, yes, go ahead. Hang up. It’s not like I needed more information or anything. <street> is plenty to go by. I mean, sure, your name, apartment number and contact information would have helped immensely. But don’t worry about it. I just happen to have a crystal ball and a dead chicken on my desk here, so I’m all set. Give me 20 or 30 minutes of furious ball caressing to unlock the forbidden secrets of the universe while I paw through chicken entrails and I’ll have the security guard give you a call back there, alright?
Good thing you at least told me the street. Else I’d have needed an entire goat.
Security Factor
SC: “I settled her down. I threw her out.”
Me: “…o...k?”
SC: “The person I wanted you to remove. She’s outta here already. Thank you for yer….sorry to bother you. But seriously thank you for your security factor.”
Me: “....right"
Apparently, I provide a security factor. What factor, I’m not sure. As I wasn’t about to do anything to assist him from the first call anyhow. So it was more of a placebo effect than anything else. Still, I like the term security factor and assume that I provide at least Security Factor 5 when added to the player’s party.
annnnd rest.
Yeah, Thanks.
Me: “All right, and the house address?"
SC: “Uh…..the one I’m living in.”
Yes….thank you for that. Truly, that statement contained any and all relevant information I required to answer my inquiry. It’s all so clear to me now, I should have realized that I already knew exactly who you were and where you lived and just filled in the entire form myself. I didn’t have to bother you at all. You could have just called up and grunted, and I would have gone “Oh! Why hello, Mr Peterson. Of course, I shall have them call you right away.”
It was foolish of me, I apologize. The second you opened your mouth I should have seen the light from the blindingly obvious being emitted from the back of your tonsils. A flare of enlightenment so powerful that 4 and a half light years from now the inhabits of Alpha Centari will look towards us in the sky and go “Oooh, so that’s where Mr Peterson lives. Of course”.
Curse you, Dudley Doright
Me: “Alright, and which catalog will you be ordering from?”
SC: “Uh….cap.”
Ah….you’re one of those. Sigh, very well. Bring it on then. Let us get this sad charade over with.
Me: “Alright, but which catalog do you have? Spring? Summer? Fall?”
SC: “You mean da catalog number?”
Me: “Yes, please”
SC: “xxxx”
…..No, that’s the product number. I assume for the cap you’re seeking. Sigh, I see we have a bit of a run away train here. Alright, fine. Fetch me my horse.
Me: “Alright, but which catalog is it in? Is it the summer catalog? The fall catalog?”
SC: “Uuhhh………uh…..one minute………”
Me: “………..”
( I guess he was being literal, as I heard only him rummaging around and talking to himself for a full minute and a half. )
SC: “…..uh, Fall.”
There, that wasn't so bad was it? Sure, I had to gallantly ride along side your steam driven train of thought, leap onto the side of the engine and successfully wrestle the shovel away from the fevered gorilla desperately shoveling coal into the fiery maw of your stupidity. But at least we've successfully complete the first question of the call. Only 8 more to go!
Our City's Finest
A quick note to the Vancouver PD: If some guy stumbles off the Skytrain and dies on the platform, could you at least throw a jacket or something over him? I mean I work in customer service so I’m already a hollow shell of a human being so it doesn’t bother me really. Hell, I'm on my way to work so I almost envy the guy. However, the large crowd of horrified onlookers on the Skytrain you stopped at the station right next to the corpse seems mildly upset.
Also, what were you going to do with that empty duffle bag that one of you so triumphantly retrieved from the Skytrain emergency cabinet? Throw it over his head? My train pulled away before I could see your likely unwise course of action.
Likely Scenarios
SC: “I’m at the...at the jail! I’ve been accosted by the police! I have blood all over me and they wanna charge me with being over the legal limit. Which is unlikely, cus I’ve not been drinkin’!”
“Accosted”, eh? Someone has a Word a Day calendar. However, the term “accost” actually has two definitions. Allow me to go over them with you and you’ll see why I’m a bit troubled by your choice of words:
Ac-cost / [uh-kawst, uh-kost]
-verb
#1) To approach or speak to boldly or aggressively as with a demand or request.
#2) To solicit for sexual purposes.
Now you’ll pardon my confusion. It is impossible to boldly speak to someone in such a fashion as to inflict bloody injury. Which only leaves option #2. Which raises so many unsettling questions that I may simply terminate this conversation right here and now.
SC: “They beat the *&@$ out of me, I don’t know what to do!”
Alright, that makes a tad more sense and is much, much less disturbing. However, I somehow doubt they inflicted grievous bodily harm and if they did I’m willing to bet money you did something to deserve it.
Me: “Alright, is there a phone number you can be reached at there?”
SC: “I only have my cell phone and my beating stick.”
..what? Your beating stick? Is that some sort of complimentary item the police give you after you’ve been grievously beaten by them? Sort of a little memento to remember your special time together? Or does it have “I was a victim of police brutality and all I got was this lousy stick” engraved on the side?
SC: “Can you give me any legal advice?”
Me: “I’m afraid I’m only an operator, I can’t provide legal advice”
SC: “Is there anyone else in the office that can give me legal advice?”
Me: “I’m afraid no one is in till 8am.”
SC: “Is there any number I could call to get some legal advice?”
Me: “Not that I would know off hand, sorry.”
SC: “Well, could you……..just chat with me on the phone for a while?”
Aww, sweetie. I’m sorry, but drunk, incarcerated and with a penis isn’t really my type. But I’m sure you’ll meet a wonderful guy some day. Probably some day soon considering where you're going.
SC: “Here, lemme give you over to the police”
Ah, thank you. This will give me a chance to compare notes between the two of you and decide who was being a bad boy……let’s see as far as I gather between you and the Sergeant.
Ok, lessee here....
Your story is: They totally like jumped you and beat the crap out of you, man. They say you were drunk but you totally didn’t have anything to drink tonight.
Their story is: They tried to pull you over and you took off leading them on a scenic car chase, they finally caught you, pulled you out of the car and arrested you. They’re guessing you’re drunk and/or stupid but apparently you refused the breathalyzer. So they’re automatically defaulting to drunk and kindly leaving stupid as an open possibility.
Right, now, which of these scenarios is more likely?
<3
C: “Thanks, you are the best!”
Tall praise for taking 9 seconds of my time to punch a phone number into a pager. But seeing as its remarkably accurate and incredibly insightful of her I will take it none the less.
Scenario #3
SC: “Yes, hi. I’m behind held at the police department. I’m being charged with failure to stop and a possible DUI.”
Me: “Hello, is this Rob again?”
SC: “Oh, yes, this is Rob. Did I already speak with you?”
Me: “Yes you did.”
My, you’ve suddenly become quite a bit more coherent and polite now. Let me guess, you earned a second complimentary beating stick didn’t you?
Spetacles
Ok, tonight must be a full moon. Because there are fashion combinations outside that probably should not have left the house. Combinations that came about through a mixture of colour blindness and living at home alone with nothing but a cat ( Like I do ) so there’s no one to stop them at the door and go “You’re seriously going out looking like that?”. I’m sure the cat tries, but its pitiful mews are grossly misinterpreted.
I shall highlight a single couple I saw tonight as the best example. A tall, lanky gentlemen in a bright neon orange t-shirt, purple jeans and purple shoes with neon orange shoelaces and orange green soles. Shoes and laces which I discovered, as we entered the tunnel to Granville station, actually glow in the dark as well. I am not sure what sort of image he was trying to achieve, perhaps Halloween at Peewee's, but he seemed smugly satisfied that he had achieved it.
His female companion on the other hand appears to have slain either a gold dragon or a Vegas can-can dancer, pelted them and sewn a fine undershirt of scalemail from their corpse. It was immensely….glittery…and I assume it provides +40 Fire Resistance. With this she had an equally shiny purse that cast off light like a disco ball. Perhaps woven from the same corpse. She also had on skin tight gold spandex tights on that provided +5 “Moose Knuckle”. The only break in this glittery gold theme was her shoes. Which appeared to have been forged from a mixture of rhinestones and rings of the purest Dwarven Mithril.
See this is why I pretend to be asleep on the Skytrain. Because if I open my eyes I bare witness to these….spectacles.
Wanker
I would like you to meet Frank. Frank has been calling pretty much once or twice a week to the point where he seems to be a on a first name basis with Coworker. I, however, usually manage to avoid having to encounter Frank as, well, he seems to also have a particular liking for Coworker and only calls on nights Coworker works. Having memorized Coworker’s schedule in order to maximize the quality time they spent together. So it is rare that I, myself, encounter Frank. But as my encounters are growing more frequent, he has slowly pushing himself up my annoyance meter into “Mock bitterly to your peers” territory. Thus, now, we must speak of him. Behind his back. Because he is a wanker.
Frank has an issue. ( Well, issues, is perhaps more accurate. ) An issue that has been going on for some time. It’s been going on so long even Frank can’t quite seem to decide exactly how long he’s been dealing with it. Since I recall when I talked to him last week it had been going on for a year. But this evening his estimate had inexplicably grown to 3 years. At the speed in which Frank appears to be hurdling towards the future, his time left on this Earth must be rather slim.
You see, Frank seems to be engaged in a bitter, unending struggle with Skynet. As there are accursed, unfeeling machines above his apartment which make too much noise for him to sleep. Which forces him to sleep on his couch because….well I don’t know why. But anyway, they have been making too much noise for 3 years, I assume preparing to wrest control from humanity and trigger Judgment Day to bring about our downfall. Frank has told them time and time again to be quiet but heartless robotic killing machines from the future do not have much regard for his pleas. Either that or they, like us, believe Frank to be a wanker.
The inherent problem here is Frank only ever calls about this issue at 2am. I have pleaded with Frank to attempt to contact the office during business hours if this is such a big problem for him. As all I can do for him is leave a message. But he cruelly rejects my attempts to assist him every time. Instead preferring to leave a message at 2am, than call back a week later at 2am to complain that no one heeded his last message at 2am a week ago. This pattern has repeated itself for months now. But, again, usually he bothers Coworker so I have not needed mention his name in bitter jest thus far. It is only now, that he has begun to bother me, that I have roused from my dark slumber to make mockery of his life and suffering.
Wanker #2
( Lives in the same damn building )
Not content to allow Frank to corner the ever coveted Crotchety Old Wanker That <Building> demographic, now we have Steve. Who is calling because he thinks the heat in the building is up too high. He seems to be incapable of turning down the heat himself, as I suggested. Thus he is blaming some malevolent unnamed outside force for turning the heat up in his suite of its own accord. I can only assume that this issue, like the previous one, can be attributed to Skynet. Which must be slowly beginning to initiate its plan to wipe out humanity, one uncomfortably warm middle aged man at a time.
Like Frank, Steve’s issue is actually ongoing and has been occurring all week. Also, like Frank, Steve has wisely chosen to leave it all week then call at 4am on a Sunday just to maximize his chances of not receiving a single shred of assistance.
Steve is also a wanker.
Wanker #3
3:59am:
Dispatched police to go down to <site> to waste their time waking up Bob the security guard after he failed to check in.
4:27am:
Bob calls in to do his check in. I ask him if the police had arrived on site. He says no.
4:30am:
Called police to cancel dispatch. Ask police if they were on site. Police advised they have been on site for quite some time and had been banging on doors and windows to wake Bob up.
4:32am:
Came to conclusion that Bob is also a wanker.
<sigh>
Me: “Is this for <software>?”
SC: “No.”
Me: “Alright, what software is it than?”
SC: “It’s the computer.”
Me: “…..alright, is the computer running <software>?"
SC: “Ok.”
Me: “…….er.....alright, but do you know if you have <software> on the computer?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Right, ok, time out. Before we go any further here, is there anyone else there I could speak too that perhaps has a few more functioning synapses? No offense, but I really don’t think you’re ready for the level of responsibility entailed in operating a phone. So maybe you could take a couple steps away from the counter, turn to the right and hand the receiver off to the Doritos rack? I have a feeling pre-packaged zesty cheese would be more capable of providing relevant information than you are.
Unending Struggle
Me: “Good evening, you’re paging <security guard>”
SC: “Hello?”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “Yeah, its Mark here. The alarm is all going off. Probably sending you guys a signal”
Me: “Ok, I'm afraid I'm just his paging service, do you need me to page him for you?”
SC: “I uh, I have to find out how to…the guard that looks after the…uh….they’re out for the evening. I don’t know how to handle it.”
Me: “Alright, but we’re only his paging service. Would you like me to page him for you?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “Alright, I’ll page-“
SC: “Oh. You’re calling who? Oh no, the number for the….people, uh, uh….uhhhhhhh…what’s my procedure? What do I do?”
Me: “I'm only his paging service, I have to page them for you and have them return your call. Ok?”
SC: “Ok. You’re gonna call….uh…..uh…..so how should I handle this? What should I do?”
Me: “I’m afraid I can’t advise you, this is ONLY a paging service."
SC: "<SIGH> fine. <click>"
Well, that was the conversational equivalent of trying to beat a brick wall at tennis.
Divination
( He's calling security )
SC: “Can you come to <street>?! I want a remove! A person from my apartment!”
Me: "<street>?"
SC: “Yes!"
Me: “..and.....you want somebody removed from your home?”
SC: “YES! I WANT EM REMOVED FROM MY APARTMENT RIGHT NOW.”
Me: “Al-“
SC: “<click>”
Oh, yes, go ahead. Hang up. It’s not like I needed more information or anything. <street> is plenty to go by. I mean, sure, your name, apartment number and contact information would have helped immensely. But don’t worry about it. I just happen to have a crystal ball and a dead chicken on my desk here, so I’m all set. Give me 20 or 30 minutes of furious ball caressing to unlock the forbidden secrets of the universe while I paw through chicken entrails and I’ll have the security guard give you a call back there, alright?
Good thing you at least told me the street. Else I’d have needed an entire goat.
Security Factor
SC: “I settled her down. I threw her out.”
Me: “…o...k?”
SC: “The person I wanted you to remove. She’s outta here already. Thank you for yer….sorry to bother you. But seriously thank you for your security factor.”
Me: “....right"
Apparently, I provide a security factor. What factor, I’m not sure. As I wasn’t about to do anything to assist him from the first call anyhow. So it was more of a placebo effect than anything else. Still, I like the term security factor and assume that I provide at least Security Factor 5 when added to the player’s party.
annnnd rest.
Holy Shit. 
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