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The receptionist buzzes my phone. She has a call for me that she thinks I should handle. This means either she is ticked at me, thinks I am far beyond the competency level of the others here, or knows I love insane people on the phone.
Yep, it is the last one.
I answer with my normal, cheerful, “Good morning. This is South Texan. How can I help you?”
“Yeah,” the scratchy, female voice rattles quickly on the other end, “I wanna sue my neighbor. She can’t do what she done did to me.”
“Uh oh,” I say still in a cheerful manner, “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Well,” she says at a pace far too fast for standard conversation, “We on the phone an’ she tellin’ me that my dog (shat) on her yard – but she ain’t got nothin’ but crap in that yard anyhow – and how she gonna come over ta my house and throw it at me. An’ I tol’ her I like to see her try. An’ then she call me a (BATCH). She don’t have the right to disrespect me like that, so I wanna sue her.”
“Great,” I think to myself, the receptionist had this one pegged.
“Well…” I start, “let me go over this again. Now this happened just between the two of you on the phone?”
“Yeah,” she answers, “but SHE da REAL (BATCH). You should see da (stuff) she do an’…” At this point I begin to tune her out as I hear about how the neighbor whores around, has a house in ill repair, never is nice to anyone, is a drunk, has a skanky daughter, etc.
“OK,” I say trying to get back onto the topic, “she called you a name on the phone. Did anyone else hear it?”
“I tol’ EVERYONE in my neighbo’hood,” she says. “So everyone hear it.”
“But they heard it from you,” I interrupt. “Not from her?”
“Oh. Yeah,” she says. “I wanna sue her fo’ a million.”
Now anyone who knows anything about slander knows that someone besides the injured party must have heard the horribly incorrect and damaging statements from the source in order to even begin to make a case. That the “injured” party told everyone about it on her own really destroys that aspect. I decide, though, that rather than trying to explain this to her, I will try to get her to back down on her own.
“Does your neighbor have a million dollars?” I ask.
“(Shat), no,” the woman replies. “That skank ho don’ have nuthin’.”
“So,” I continue, “how do you expect to get a million dollars from her if you win your lawsuit?”
“Well, ain’t there some fund da state has dat pays when they ain’t no money? she asks.
“No,” I say in my friendly but sympathetic voice. “There is no such fund. I’m sorry.”
“Then whut da (fark) can I do?” she whines. “This ain’t right.”
“I am really sorry,” I reply, “but it takes money to sue someone; and if we would not get a piece of the damage award to at least cover our costs, would you be able to pay for everything?”
“WHAT DA (SHAT)????” I get as a reply. “Yoo mean ta tell me *I* gots ta pay fo’ it if she don’t????”
“I’m afraid that’s how it is,” I reply.
A string of expletives pounds my ear before I hear the *click* of the call ending.
Sometimes the stupidity of this world still amazes me.
Yep, it is the last one.
I answer with my normal, cheerful, “Good morning. This is South Texan. How can I help you?”
“Yeah,” the scratchy, female voice rattles quickly on the other end, “I wanna sue my neighbor. She can’t do what she done did to me.”
“Uh oh,” I say still in a cheerful manner, “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Well,” she says at a pace far too fast for standard conversation, “We on the phone an’ she tellin’ me that my dog (shat) on her yard – but she ain’t got nothin’ but crap in that yard anyhow – and how she gonna come over ta my house and throw it at me. An’ I tol’ her I like to see her try. An’ then she call me a (BATCH). She don’t have the right to disrespect me like that, so I wanna sue her.”
“Great,” I think to myself, the receptionist had this one pegged.
“Well…” I start, “let me go over this again. Now this happened just between the two of you on the phone?”
“Yeah,” she answers, “but SHE da REAL (BATCH). You should see da (stuff) she do an’…” At this point I begin to tune her out as I hear about how the neighbor whores around, has a house in ill repair, never is nice to anyone, is a drunk, has a skanky daughter, etc.
“OK,” I say trying to get back onto the topic, “she called you a name on the phone. Did anyone else hear it?”
“I tol’ EVERYONE in my neighbo’hood,” she says. “So everyone hear it.”
“But they heard it from you,” I interrupt. “Not from her?”
“Oh. Yeah,” she says. “I wanna sue her fo’ a million.”
Now anyone who knows anything about slander knows that someone besides the injured party must have heard the horribly incorrect and damaging statements from the source in order to even begin to make a case. That the “injured” party told everyone about it on her own really destroys that aspect. I decide, though, that rather than trying to explain this to her, I will try to get her to back down on her own.
“Does your neighbor have a million dollars?” I ask.
“(Shat), no,” the woman replies. “That skank ho don’ have nuthin’.”
“So,” I continue, “how do you expect to get a million dollars from her if you win your lawsuit?”
“Well, ain’t there some fund da state has dat pays when they ain’t no money? she asks.
“No,” I say in my friendly but sympathetic voice. “There is no such fund. I’m sorry.”
“Then whut da (fark) can I do?” she whines. “This ain’t right.”
“I am really sorry,” I reply, “but it takes money to sue someone; and if we would not get a piece of the damage award to at least cover our costs, would you be able to pay for everything?”
“WHAT DA (SHAT)????” I get as a reply. “Yoo mean ta tell me *I* gots ta pay fo’ it if she don’t????”
“I’m afraid that’s how it is,” I reply.
A string of expletives pounds my ear before I hear the *click* of the call ending.
Sometimes the stupidity of this world still amazes me.
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