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Olympic Double Header ( Now with 100% more molestation )
Yes yes, I am no longer on hiatus and I bring two weeks worth of misery from Olympic Ground Zero. >.>
I'm not really kidding about the molesting either.
Tea Party
I think the yahoos wandering outside have finally caught my scent…..a group of them set up camp on our steps in full view of the security cameras and rang our intercom repeatedly. Not for any particular reason, but just because it was a button and it was shiny. I attempted to verbally abuse them through the intercom, as is my inclination, but they could not hear me over the sounds of their own drunken revelry. After 10 minutes or so of straight....er, whoopary.....they departed.
Unfortunately, they seem to have stolen some chairs from the Starbucks down the street and arranged them around our doorstep so they could have a small tea party before they left. Which is odd because Starbucks normally brings their chairs inside when they close…..so I’m really hoping they just forgot a few outside and the ones on our steps were not…er…liberated in the night.
A Clue, Sherlock!
SC: “Oh, yes I called there earlier about losing my keys and being locked out? I just wanted to let you know I found them in my pocket. They were there the entire time.”
Perhaps I’m a bit of an eccentric fellow myself, but my keys are always in my pocket. Would that not be the very first place you look? In fact does not looking for your keys in your pocket and finding them missing trigger the entire panicked search for missing keys to begin with? I would dare say you can’t even declare them missing until after you have checked your pockets. As they are the primary storage devices of the human automaton. I will accept purses as a valid storage unit as well ( but only if they are particularly fabulous ), however even when a purse is equipped it’s still possible to have pockets as back up key receptacles. In fact it is highly recommended as it increases your inventory slots by at least 4. Still, it stands to reason that you would focus inward and search your own body and mind for the very key to the locked door of your soul and or apartment before you started an external perimeter search, laboring under the fear that you had dropped them or had them stolen. Scenarios you could not even have conceived off unless you bothered to check the original hiding place to discover it vacant in the first place.
Thievery
SC: “Is this Plantronics?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “Do you sell Plantronics headsets?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “…..sooo then, you interested in doin’ business?”
Me: “….excuse me?”
SC: “…….”
Me: “……?”
SC: “<click>”
….I…think I just encountered some sort of headset bandit. A shadowy conman that moves from call centre to call centre, working for a few weeks then quitting and pocketing his headset on the way out before he vanishes without a trace. Drifting from city to city, he slowly builds up a misappropriated stash of precious headsets then fences them off to the highest bidder. What have I done? I let him get away! There’s no telling what sort of damage he’s wrought on us so far, or how much he will in the future. Slipping into our call centres in the dead of night and pilfering our headsets from where we’ve hidden them in the dresser underneath our lacy underthings ( Or maybe that’s just me, but still! ).
It Only Gets Harder From Here On In
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Cathy”
Me: “Is that with a C or a K?”
SC: “……uhhh……”
Really? Really? This is the first question you know. It’s only going to get harder from here on out. You should at the very least know how to spell your own name. It’s a rather fundamental life skill most of us began to grasp around the same time we began to grasp dressing ourselves. You can dress yourself, can’t you? I mean, you must, you are calling to order clothes. I find it difficult to believe it’s possible to rise to such wealth and prominence in Nunavut that one could have a servant whose sole job, whom they were groomed and trained for since childhood, is to zip up pants.
Look, I’ll even help you out here. Lets break it down into simple, muppet like terms: Is it C as in Cat or K as in….well I guess that could also be Kat for you, couldn’t it? Right, I think I see your dilemma now. My apologies.
Okay then
Me: "Good evening, <company> tech support line"
SC: “Yeah, uh, hey what time do you guys sell beer till?
Typically, between the hours of Never Have and Never Will. So just drop right in at anytime in-between and I’ll be glad to assist you.
Wandering Eyes
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “Uhhh…..wait.”
….this is the very first item. I should not have to wait. You should have this information immediately on hand, in front of you, ready to be presented to me on a metaphorical silver platter. I can even hear you furiously flipping pages trying to find it. So you must have had the catalog right there, in front of you, waiting to go. Which means you drifted away from the item you had intended to purchase and were checking out other items on the side. How uncouth. You expect me to sit here and just sell you a pair of pants now when you’ve proven you can’t even be faithful to them even for the time it took to say “I do”? I can’t do that to them! They’re young and naïve. I can’t willing let you break their poor, tender hearts. You, you pants philanderer.
Oh, you will alright
SC: “When’s the prize draw?”
Me: “June 10th.”
SC “Well, I’ll hear from you then! Haw haw!”
Yes….ha ha. Very droll. The only way you’ll hear from me on June 10th is if I phone you to personally congratulate you on utterly failing to win anything and wishing you luck on the continued sadness and complete lack of fabulous prizes in your life from here on out. A course of action I must admit I am beginning to seriously consider.
Hot Tips
SC: “Remember, Jesus is coming back like a thief in the night so be on the watch, ok?”
Me: “…okay.”
Note to self: Jesus really is coming back but it’s not for our salvation, it’s for our stereo.
Patriarch
Me: “I’m afraid <product> is only available locally in BC.”
SC: “Well I use to live in BC! I lived there for 30 years and have always been a great customer the whole and now you're telling me I can't buy it?!”
That’s…odd….what exactly are you trying to d-…ooooooh, wait. I see. You’re attempting to invoke guilt in me, in the hopes that it will rise up and override my instructions. Thus putting my job in jeopardy for your own selfish ends. Well, I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for a human being when in fact I’m actually a CSR. There’s quite a difference you know. Oh, sure, there’s no real difference when one first becomes a CSR. But over the years we undergo a slow, steady change that drains away our humanity and turns us into dark, nefarious creatures that command awe ( or at least mild annoyance ) inspiring powers.
Unfortunately, one of the side effects of this transformation is we naturally begin to lose our ability to feel sympathy or caring for any living being holding a phone receiver. In an Elder CSR such as myself, who is now entering the Lich stage I might add, this effect is so powerful that I feel absolutely nothing towards you when you’re touching any sort of telecommunications device. It’s nothing personal, mind you.
You should remember that, actually. Holding a phone negates any and all feelings of caring and sympathy we might have. So if you’re ever in a terrible accident and you need help, but only nearby witness is just staring at you with detached curiosity, try putting your iPhone down. It could save your life one day.
Why, of course!
SC: “Yeah, uh, I’m from Ontario but I’m staying with some buddies in Vancouver. But my uh, camera is in his apartment and he’s asleep can you let me into his apartment to get it?”
Hmm….lesse, so you’re not a tenant, aren’t even from Vancouver, claim to be a friend of someone in the building whom you cannot name and want me to arrange to let you, a total stranger, into this “friend’s” apartment so you can take expensive electronics…………..sure! Sounds completely legit to me. Lemme get a hold of the manager for you!
Evolution
After a suspicious succession of calls this evening I have come to the conclusion that the northern manlings who torment my nights have in fact somehow mutated or evolved like some sort of tragic Pokemon. I use the term “evolved” loosely and only in the most technical sense. It is true that this new…creature is more advanced then its predecessors. However, this desperate attempt at a genetic leap forward has cast this new species valiantly ahead of its ancestors annnnd off of a short pier into the cold, dark waters of incoherency. Yes, it’s true they seem to have more computational power, but as a result they have utterly no patience and no ability to curb the stream of verbal grunts and hoots being emitted as a response to every question. They no longer have those blank, vacant pause where their brain requires 10-15 seconds to process a new directive.
This leads to a wonderful situation where they just blather out each piece of information as fast as possible. Despite the fact they do not possess the verbal skills, jaw structure or reliably low blood alcohol level to communicate at such speeds. So my simple inquiries such as “And your phone number please?” are met with a manic verbal geyser of numbers and grunts of varying intensity. At best I can pick out perhaps a third of the relevant digits from this sewer run off drain of communication. As for the other two thirds…..well, I imagine you could record them and use them to herd sheep. But beyond that they seem to serve no purpose.
...maybe?
Me: “Alright, do you have a pen there?”
SC: “Oh, no. Wait, hold on. Maybe I’ll find one….”
Right, two points before you depart: 1) The recording that plays before you even get to me tells you to have a pen ready. As you can see, this was sage advice. 2) The phrase “Maybe I’ll find one” is rather foreboding. It implies you do not have one, do not know where to get one but are willing to embark on a lengthy adventure to obtain one. An epic quest which could take you hours, days or even weeks depending on your strength, wits and the fellowship of heroic companions you surround yourself with in your travels. Technically speaking our target average these calls is about 2 minutes. Therefore I do not really have the time to sit around waiting for you to retrieve the legendary Bic of the Covenant.
Hot Tips: Pro Tips Edition
In my time fielding the tired, poor, delusional huddled masses there have been numerous occurrences with callers of a…let’s say less then rational mind. These closet conspiracy theorists often times reach me after navigating the automated menu and pressing the button for emergencies. Incorrectly believing their perceived delusional threat to self or nation(s) falls into this category. After much involuntary research data I believe I have developed a check list of issues that can be added to our automated recording in order to reduce these types of calls. A point by point evaluation of sanity a caller can go down to determine whether or not their lunacy qualifies them to speak with me. If you answer yes to any of these questions, you are disqualified and must hang up immediately.
Let us begin:
#1: You’re going to mention any intelligence agency in any capacity
Mentioning the CIA, CSIS, KGB or any other intelligence agency is an automatic disqualification. None of these agencies are about to assist you with issues in Canada. You must go to local authorities if you truly believe They(tm) are out to get you. Your excuse that the RCMP are “Clowns that mock me from within the Dream World” and thus are not qualified to understand the complex criminal or international threast to your person that you perceived after spotting secret messages in a Shamwow commercial is not a valid excuse for me to raise the terrorist alert level.
#2: You’re going to claim to know top ranking members of the government. Any government.
The chance of me believing you when you tell me you're such close friends with Hillary Clinton that you did her last breast self exam for her and need speak with her immediately on a matter of national security because of something you saw on Jersey Shore is rather low. My decision will not be swayed by your reasoning that you were deep undercover while sitting on your couch in your underwear, watching Jersey Shore, and thus do not have a direct contact for her.
#3: You think <insert agency here> is stalking you.
You are sitting on your couch, half naked, elbow deep in a bag of Cheetos contemplating if you even want to bother getting up to pee during the commercial break after Jersey Shore or just reach for an empty Budweiser. I can state with a rather high level of confidence that the FBI, RCMP, CIA, CSIS and KGB have utterly no interest in you. Even if they did for some reason have such an interest and I was aware of it, I would not reveal it to you anyway and you would have to return to your paranoid delusions which I can neither confirm nor deny. Sleep well.
#4: You think you know where the terrorists are.
I appreciate that you think you can help. However, thinking you spotted Bin Laden in the background during a rerun of the Price’s Right is not compelling evidence. Not to mention actually believing your power to gather critical military intelligence from your couch somehow exceeds that of the CIA or CSIS is rather hopeful of you.
#5: You have a grievance with the government over something they have done at any point in the last 200 years, real or imagined.
I am not a suggestion box. Any comments, concerns or frothing obscenity laced tirades about secret liberal concentration camps you might have are not going to be funneled straight to the desk of the President or the Prime Minister just because you blathered them out to me from a payphone at 3am.
I Feel Dirty
I can confidently say that I received more ( utterly uninvited and somewhat creepy ) love and affection between the Skytrain and the office then I have collectively received from all of my loved ones in the last 6 months. Emerging from Granville into an ocean of drunken yahoos who immediately greeted me, and everyone else within a 10 foot radius, with pats on the back, sweaty hugs, ass slaps and poorly coordinated attempts at high fives. This inescapable physical molestation of my person lasted for two blocks till I was able to escape the Maple Love. By which time I felt shamed and dirty.
Of course, upon escaping the main maple mass, I encountered the peripheral packs of roving American fans who upon scenting maple upon me, informed me extremely loudly that they were going to commit repeated unlawful sexual assaults on my person of a nature that typically occurs in prison shower facilities. Though the actual terms they used were not quite that polite.
One Item Encore
I don’t mean to be impatient, or rude, or anything but you called to order one item. One item. Just one. Yet when I asked you what this singular object was, so that I might provide it, it took you 5 minutes of mental struggling followed by a tag out to another person in the room. 5 minutes and two different people just to tell me the one item that you would like to order. You do not perceive anything wrong with this scenario?
Perhaps this is the local standard up there, and its common place to bring a friend or family member with you so that you may travel in pairs in the event you have to overcome some arduous hurdle like ordering a #5 combo meal at McDonalds. However, this is not the norm throughout the rest of the civilized world. Or uncivilized world for that matter. I’m pretty sure that if I trekked deep into the Amazon and discovered a completely new tribe of people that had been totally untouched by the modern world for hundreds of years. Then showed them several pairs of fanciful pants and asked them which one they would like even they would not have to consult nearby friends and family for several minutes to make a decision.
That is Not An Option
Me: “Alright, I only have that in small and medium”
SC: “uhh….can I get it in 1XL?”
….no, no you can’t. I presented the only two options you have. You must select one of them. There are no other choices. Do you go up to pop machines, look at the buttons for “Coke” and “Diet Coke”, then start randomly jabbing the front of the machine trying to get “Toothbrush”?
Think Harder
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “Oh…um……uhh…..damn I keep forgetting all these questions.”
I find that startling difficult to believe in light of the fact you have called at least once every 24 hours for the past two weeks for help with the exact same problem incurring a $700 service fee each time. At this point I can answer all the questions for you to be bluntly honest. In fact, I may as well. You just go sit down somewhere and try not to break anything. Again. I’ll page a technician to walk you through fixing the exact same problem for the 11th time in a row. A fix which I might add is another critical piece of information you can’t seem to recall despite having worked through it at least 11 times in the last two weeks.
I'm tempted to ask the tech to just tell me so I can tell you the second you call and identify yourself. Of course then you wouldn't incur the $700 stupidity penalty. So it wouldn't be as much fun.
Hot Tips
SC: “Do you know how they messed up in Vietnam?”
No, but I bet 50 cents and a Roasted Mixed Nut granola bar that it has something to do with Prince Charles.
SC: “You see, Prince Charles didn’t like that they called em Charlies-“
Fuck ya~! Mixed Nuts, baby!
The Enigma Machine
Me: “Can you spell your name please?”
SC: “R R Voo Nuh Deux A Deux Nuh O Maria!”
….I….tha…..wha….what the heck was that? Those were not letters. I know what letters sound like and those were not them. That was a strange, confused mix of letters, grunts and French numbers followed by a Hail Mary. I’m normally pretty good at deciphering accents, but that is not an accent. That is an encryption.
Ok, you’re going to have to work with me here. Let’s try that again….please, if you would, define each segment of the code in a method I might understand.
SC: “R like the first letter of the alphabet”
…that’s…not the first letter of the alphabet but ok. R = A. Got it.
SC: “R like the first again”
Ok, so another R = A.
SC: “Deux for Victory”
….I…wha….D? D = V? Umm…ok.
SC: “Inn, like Newman”
….right, so I = N.
SC: “Deux like demand”
And D = D…..wait, D = D and V?
SC: “E like Empire”
Ok, E is E, that works….
SC: “Deux like golfer”
….D = G? But…..but you said D = V…and D = D. What’s…what’s going on? Oh god.
SC: “Nuah like No”
O…ok….N = N? Right? Is that right? You’re not going to change it in a minute to J = N? Or X = N? N is N, right?
SC: “O like Aura”
….O….O = A? But…but, you said…you said R = A. Not O, it can’t be R and O! That doesn’t make any sense! What are you trying to do to me!?
SC: “O’Maria!”
EVERYTHING YOU SAY IS CANCER AND MADNESS.
annnnd rest....<whimper>
I'm not really kidding about the molesting either.
Tea Party
I think the yahoos wandering outside have finally caught my scent…..a group of them set up camp on our steps in full view of the security cameras and rang our intercom repeatedly. Not for any particular reason, but just because it was a button and it was shiny. I attempted to verbally abuse them through the intercom, as is my inclination, but they could not hear me over the sounds of their own drunken revelry. After 10 minutes or so of straight....er, whoopary.....they departed.
Unfortunately, they seem to have stolen some chairs from the Starbucks down the street and arranged them around our doorstep so they could have a small tea party before they left. Which is odd because Starbucks normally brings their chairs inside when they close…..so I’m really hoping they just forgot a few outside and the ones on our steps were not…er…liberated in the night.
A Clue, Sherlock!
SC: “Oh, yes I called there earlier about losing my keys and being locked out? I just wanted to let you know I found them in my pocket. They were there the entire time.”
Perhaps I’m a bit of an eccentric fellow myself, but my keys are always in my pocket. Would that not be the very first place you look? In fact does not looking for your keys in your pocket and finding them missing trigger the entire panicked search for missing keys to begin with? I would dare say you can’t even declare them missing until after you have checked your pockets. As they are the primary storage devices of the human automaton. I will accept purses as a valid storage unit as well ( but only if they are particularly fabulous ), however even when a purse is equipped it’s still possible to have pockets as back up key receptacles. In fact it is highly recommended as it increases your inventory slots by at least 4. Still, it stands to reason that you would focus inward and search your own body and mind for the very key to the locked door of your soul and or apartment before you started an external perimeter search, laboring under the fear that you had dropped them or had them stolen. Scenarios you could not even have conceived off unless you bothered to check the original hiding place to discover it vacant in the first place.
Thievery
SC: “Is this Plantronics?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “Do you sell Plantronics headsets?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “…..sooo then, you interested in doin’ business?”
Me: “….excuse me?”
SC: “…….”
Me: “……?”
SC: “<click>”
….I…think I just encountered some sort of headset bandit. A shadowy conman that moves from call centre to call centre, working for a few weeks then quitting and pocketing his headset on the way out before he vanishes without a trace. Drifting from city to city, he slowly builds up a misappropriated stash of precious headsets then fences them off to the highest bidder. What have I done? I let him get away! There’s no telling what sort of damage he’s wrought on us so far, or how much he will in the future. Slipping into our call centres in the dead of night and pilfering our headsets from where we’ve hidden them in the dresser underneath our lacy underthings ( Or maybe that’s just me, but still! ).
It Only Gets Harder From Here On In
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Cathy”
Me: “Is that with a C or a K?”
SC: “……uhhh……”
Really? Really? This is the first question you know. It’s only going to get harder from here on out. You should at the very least know how to spell your own name. It’s a rather fundamental life skill most of us began to grasp around the same time we began to grasp dressing ourselves. You can dress yourself, can’t you? I mean, you must, you are calling to order clothes. I find it difficult to believe it’s possible to rise to such wealth and prominence in Nunavut that one could have a servant whose sole job, whom they were groomed and trained for since childhood, is to zip up pants.
Look, I’ll even help you out here. Lets break it down into simple, muppet like terms: Is it C as in Cat or K as in….well I guess that could also be Kat for you, couldn’t it? Right, I think I see your dilemma now. My apologies.
Okay then
Me: "Good evening, <company> tech support line"
SC: “Yeah, uh, hey what time do you guys sell beer till?
Typically, between the hours of Never Have and Never Will. So just drop right in at anytime in-between and I’ll be glad to assist you.
Wandering Eyes
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “Uhhh…..wait.”
….this is the very first item. I should not have to wait. You should have this information immediately on hand, in front of you, ready to be presented to me on a metaphorical silver platter. I can even hear you furiously flipping pages trying to find it. So you must have had the catalog right there, in front of you, waiting to go. Which means you drifted away from the item you had intended to purchase and were checking out other items on the side. How uncouth. You expect me to sit here and just sell you a pair of pants now when you’ve proven you can’t even be faithful to them even for the time it took to say “I do”? I can’t do that to them! They’re young and naïve. I can’t willing let you break their poor, tender hearts. You, you pants philanderer.
Oh, you will alright
SC: “When’s the prize draw?”
Me: “June 10th.”
SC “Well, I’ll hear from you then! Haw haw!”
Yes….ha ha. Very droll. The only way you’ll hear from me on June 10th is if I phone you to personally congratulate you on utterly failing to win anything and wishing you luck on the continued sadness and complete lack of fabulous prizes in your life from here on out. A course of action I must admit I am beginning to seriously consider.
Hot Tips
SC: “Remember, Jesus is coming back like a thief in the night so be on the watch, ok?”
Me: “…okay.”
Note to self: Jesus really is coming back but it’s not for our salvation, it’s for our stereo.
Patriarch
Me: “I’m afraid <product> is only available locally in BC.”
SC: “Well I use to live in BC! I lived there for 30 years and have always been a great customer the whole and now you're telling me I can't buy it?!”
That’s…odd….what exactly are you trying to d-…ooooooh, wait. I see. You’re attempting to invoke guilt in me, in the hopes that it will rise up and override my instructions. Thus putting my job in jeopardy for your own selfish ends. Well, I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for a human being when in fact I’m actually a CSR. There’s quite a difference you know. Oh, sure, there’s no real difference when one first becomes a CSR. But over the years we undergo a slow, steady change that drains away our humanity and turns us into dark, nefarious creatures that command awe ( or at least mild annoyance ) inspiring powers.
Unfortunately, one of the side effects of this transformation is we naturally begin to lose our ability to feel sympathy or caring for any living being holding a phone receiver. In an Elder CSR such as myself, who is now entering the Lich stage I might add, this effect is so powerful that I feel absolutely nothing towards you when you’re touching any sort of telecommunications device. It’s nothing personal, mind you.
You should remember that, actually. Holding a phone negates any and all feelings of caring and sympathy we might have. So if you’re ever in a terrible accident and you need help, but only nearby witness is just staring at you with detached curiosity, try putting your iPhone down. It could save your life one day.
Why, of course!
SC: “Yeah, uh, I’m from Ontario but I’m staying with some buddies in Vancouver. But my uh, camera is in his apartment and he’s asleep can you let me into his apartment to get it?”
Hmm….lesse, so you’re not a tenant, aren’t even from Vancouver, claim to be a friend of someone in the building whom you cannot name and want me to arrange to let you, a total stranger, into this “friend’s” apartment so you can take expensive electronics…………..sure! Sounds completely legit to me. Lemme get a hold of the manager for you!
Evolution
After a suspicious succession of calls this evening I have come to the conclusion that the northern manlings who torment my nights have in fact somehow mutated or evolved like some sort of tragic Pokemon. I use the term “evolved” loosely and only in the most technical sense. It is true that this new…creature is more advanced then its predecessors. However, this desperate attempt at a genetic leap forward has cast this new species valiantly ahead of its ancestors annnnd off of a short pier into the cold, dark waters of incoherency. Yes, it’s true they seem to have more computational power, but as a result they have utterly no patience and no ability to curb the stream of verbal grunts and hoots being emitted as a response to every question. They no longer have those blank, vacant pause where their brain requires 10-15 seconds to process a new directive.
This leads to a wonderful situation where they just blather out each piece of information as fast as possible. Despite the fact they do not possess the verbal skills, jaw structure or reliably low blood alcohol level to communicate at such speeds. So my simple inquiries such as “And your phone number please?” are met with a manic verbal geyser of numbers and grunts of varying intensity. At best I can pick out perhaps a third of the relevant digits from this sewer run off drain of communication. As for the other two thirds…..well, I imagine you could record them and use them to herd sheep. But beyond that they seem to serve no purpose.
...maybe?
Me: “Alright, do you have a pen there?”
SC: “Oh, no. Wait, hold on. Maybe I’ll find one….”
Right, two points before you depart: 1) The recording that plays before you even get to me tells you to have a pen ready. As you can see, this was sage advice. 2) The phrase “Maybe I’ll find one” is rather foreboding. It implies you do not have one, do not know where to get one but are willing to embark on a lengthy adventure to obtain one. An epic quest which could take you hours, days or even weeks depending on your strength, wits and the fellowship of heroic companions you surround yourself with in your travels. Technically speaking our target average these calls is about 2 minutes. Therefore I do not really have the time to sit around waiting for you to retrieve the legendary Bic of the Covenant.
Hot Tips: Pro Tips Edition
In my time fielding the tired, poor, delusional huddled masses there have been numerous occurrences with callers of a…let’s say less then rational mind. These closet conspiracy theorists often times reach me after navigating the automated menu and pressing the button for emergencies. Incorrectly believing their perceived delusional threat to self or nation(s) falls into this category. After much involuntary research data I believe I have developed a check list of issues that can be added to our automated recording in order to reduce these types of calls. A point by point evaluation of sanity a caller can go down to determine whether or not their lunacy qualifies them to speak with me. If you answer yes to any of these questions, you are disqualified and must hang up immediately.
Let us begin:
#1: You’re going to mention any intelligence agency in any capacity
Mentioning the CIA, CSIS, KGB or any other intelligence agency is an automatic disqualification. None of these agencies are about to assist you with issues in Canada. You must go to local authorities if you truly believe They(tm) are out to get you. Your excuse that the RCMP are “Clowns that mock me from within the Dream World” and thus are not qualified to understand the complex criminal or international threast to your person that you perceived after spotting secret messages in a Shamwow commercial is not a valid excuse for me to raise the terrorist alert level.
#2: You’re going to claim to know top ranking members of the government. Any government.
The chance of me believing you when you tell me you're such close friends with Hillary Clinton that you did her last breast self exam for her and need speak with her immediately on a matter of national security because of something you saw on Jersey Shore is rather low. My decision will not be swayed by your reasoning that you were deep undercover while sitting on your couch in your underwear, watching Jersey Shore, and thus do not have a direct contact for her.
#3: You think <insert agency here> is stalking you.
You are sitting on your couch, half naked, elbow deep in a bag of Cheetos contemplating if you even want to bother getting up to pee during the commercial break after Jersey Shore or just reach for an empty Budweiser. I can state with a rather high level of confidence that the FBI, RCMP, CIA, CSIS and KGB have utterly no interest in you. Even if they did for some reason have such an interest and I was aware of it, I would not reveal it to you anyway and you would have to return to your paranoid delusions which I can neither confirm nor deny. Sleep well.
#4: You think you know where the terrorists are.
I appreciate that you think you can help. However, thinking you spotted Bin Laden in the background during a rerun of the Price’s Right is not compelling evidence. Not to mention actually believing your power to gather critical military intelligence from your couch somehow exceeds that of the CIA or CSIS is rather hopeful of you.
#5: You have a grievance with the government over something they have done at any point in the last 200 years, real or imagined.
I am not a suggestion box. Any comments, concerns or frothing obscenity laced tirades about secret liberal concentration camps you might have are not going to be funneled straight to the desk of the President or the Prime Minister just because you blathered them out to me from a payphone at 3am.
I Feel Dirty
I can confidently say that I received more ( utterly uninvited and somewhat creepy ) love and affection between the Skytrain and the office then I have collectively received from all of my loved ones in the last 6 months. Emerging from Granville into an ocean of drunken yahoos who immediately greeted me, and everyone else within a 10 foot radius, with pats on the back, sweaty hugs, ass slaps and poorly coordinated attempts at high fives. This inescapable physical molestation of my person lasted for two blocks till I was able to escape the Maple Love. By which time I felt shamed and dirty.
Of course, upon escaping the main maple mass, I encountered the peripheral packs of roving American fans who upon scenting maple upon me, informed me extremely loudly that they were going to commit repeated unlawful sexual assaults on my person of a nature that typically occurs in prison shower facilities. Though the actual terms they used were not quite that polite.
One Item Encore
I don’t mean to be impatient, or rude, or anything but you called to order one item. One item. Just one. Yet when I asked you what this singular object was, so that I might provide it, it took you 5 minutes of mental struggling followed by a tag out to another person in the room. 5 minutes and two different people just to tell me the one item that you would like to order. You do not perceive anything wrong with this scenario?
Perhaps this is the local standard up there, and its common place to bring a friend or family member with you so that you may travel in pairs in the event you have to overcome some arduous hurdle like ordering a #5 combo meal at McDonalds. However, this is not the norm throughout the rest of the civilized world. Or uncivilized world for that matter. I’m pretty sure that if I trekked deep into the Amazon and discovered a completely new tribe of people that had been totally untouched by the modern world for hundreds of years. Then showed them several pairs of fanciful pants and asked them which one they would like even they would not have to consult nearby friends and family for several minutes to make a decision.
That is Not An Option
Me: “Alright, I only have that in small and medium”
SC: “uhh….can I get it in 1XL?”
….no, no you can’t. I presented the only two options you have. You must select one of them. There are no other choices. Do you go up to pop machines, look at the buttons for “Coke” and “Diet Coke”, then start randomly jabbing the front of the machine trying to get “Toothbrush”?
Think Harder
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “Oh…um……uhh…..damn I keep forgetting all these questions.”
I find that startling difficult to believe in light of the fact you have called at least once every 24 hours for the past two weeks for help with the exact same problem incurring a $700 service fee each time. At this point I can answer all the questions for you to be bluntly honest. In fact, I may as well. You just go sit down somewhere and try not to break anything. Again. I’ll page a technician to walk you through fixing the exact same problem for the 11th time in a row. A fix which I might add is another critical piece of information you can’t seem to recall despite having worked through it at least 11 times in the last two weeks.
I'm tempted to ask the tech to just tell me so I can tell you the second you call and identify yourself. Of course then you wouldn't incur the $700 stupidity penalty. So it wouldn't be as much fun.
Hot Tips
SC: “Do you know how they messed up in Vietnam?”
No, but I bet 50 cents and a Roasted Mixed Nut granola bar that it has something to do with Prince Charles.
SC: “You see, Prince Charles didn’t like that they called em Charlies-“
Fuck ya~! Mixed Nuts, baby!
The Enigma Machine
Me: “Can you spell your name please?”
SC: “R R Voo Nuh Deux A Deux Nuh O Maria!”
….I….tha…..wha….what the heck was that? Those were not letters. I know what letters sound like and those were not them. That was a strange, confused mix of letters, grunts and French numbers followed by a Hail Mary. I’m normally pretty good at deciphering accents, but that is not an accent. That is an encryption.
Ok, you’re going to have to work with me here. Let’s try that again….please, if you would, define each segment of the code in a method I might understand.
SC: “R like the first letter of the alphabet”
…that’s…not the first letter of the alphabet but ok. R = A. Got it.
SC: “R like the first again”
Ok, so another R = A.
SC: “Deux for Victory”
….I…wha….D? D = V? Umm…ok.
SC: “Inn, like Newman”
….right, so I = N.
SC: “Deux like demand”
And D = D…..wait, D = D and V?
SC: “E like Empire”
Ok, E is E, that works….
SC: “Deux like golfer”
….D = G? But…..but you said D = V…and D = D. What’s…what’s going on? Oh god.
SC: “Nuah like No”
O…ok….N = N? Right? Is that right? You’re not going to change it in a minute to J = N? Or X = N? N is N, right?
SC: “O like Aura”
….O….O = A? But…but, you said…you said R = A. Not O, it can’t be R and O! That doesn’t make any sense! What are you trying to do to me!?
SC: “O’Maria!”
EVERYTHING YOU SAY IS CANCER AND MADNESS.
annnnd rest....<whimper>
*ducks for cover*
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