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Disclaimer: This anecdote may contain any of the following – Sarcasm (both scathing and benign), face meet palm worthy ignorance, references to people who shouldn’t be allowed to breed, strong language, and mockery. Continue at your own risk.
This story was not one that happened to me, but was recounted to me by a co-worker of mine. It didn’t happen to him either, though that doesn’t diminish the idiocy. All names have been changed to protect those who might like to keep their current positions.
I currently work with a fellow named Jay, a jovial and very friendly 30 something year old guy with a wife and 2 kids. One of the things Jay is known to do is regale his current group of colleagues with antics from his decade worth of call centre experience. Seeing as he’s quite the storyteller, these are often tales that we get a laugh out of.
So the current story begins with Jay explaining that one of his former co-workers was a sizeable gentleman of African American descent. The guy’s name was Sam, and to talk to him you’d know him to be an intelligent young man, no nonsense, as well as the sort to put the iron fist down on racial commentary. From Jay’s account, I’m led to believe the whole incident went down something like this.
Sam: Thank you for calling XYZ tech support. My name’s Sam. What can I help you with today?
Middle Aged Redneck Asshole (MARA): Oh, thank GOD! A white rep for once!
Sam, calmly: Hello there, sir. Are you calling about phone number 555-1234?
MARA: Yep, my internet’s not working. Must have been them fellas you have in the foreign centre. Worked fine until I talked to that Paki girl the other day.
Sam, after a deep breath: Could I get you to confirm your full name and service address for me, please?
MARA: Yeah, I’m Frank Jones, live at 123 Fake Street, north west Idahnno.
From here Sam did his job with a great deal more courtesy than the customer rightfully deserved. He managed to solve the client’s problem and withstand a great deal more derogatory commentary from this guy. According to Jay, while he was on his own call, he was just watching Sam regulate his breath, his expression showing more and more frustration. After about ten minutes on the line, the guy’s problem was solved, and he was thanking Sam for the courteous service.
As he was wrapping up his own call documentation, Jay caught the end of Sam’s exchange with the guy, which apparently consisted of a very entertaining close.
Sam: Just one more thing, Mr. Jones. For future reference, I’m the biggest, blackest, meanest motherfucker you will ever set eyes on, and now I know where you live.
This story was not one that happened to me, but was recounted to me by a co-worker of mine. It didn’t happen to him either, though that doesn’t diminish the idiocy. All names have been changed to protect those who might like to keep their current positions.
I currently work with a fellow named Jay, a jovial and very friendly 30 something year old guy with a wife and 2 kids. One of the things Jay is known to do is regale his current group of colleagues with antics from his decade worth of call centre experience. Seeing as he’s quite the storyteller, these are often tales that we get a laugh out of.
So the current story begins with Jay explaining that one of his former co-workers was a sizeable gentleman of African American descent. The guy’s name was Sam, and to talk to him you’d know him to be an intelligent young man, no nonsense, as well as the sort to put the iron fist down on racial commentary. From Jay’s account, I’m led to believe the whole incident went down something like this.
Sam: Thank you for calling XYZ tech support. My name’s Sam. What can I help you with today?
Middle Aged Redneck Asshole (MARA): Oh, thank GOD! A white rep for once!
Sam, calmly: Hello there, sir. Are you calling about phone number 555-1234?
MARA: Yep, my internet’s not working. Must have been them fellas you have in the foreign centre. Worked fine until I talked to that Paki girl the other day.
Sam, after a deep breath: Could I get you to confirm your full name and service address for me, please?
MARA: Yeah, I’m Frank Jones, live at 123 Fake Street, north west Idahnno.
From here Sam did his job with a great deal more courtesy than the customer rightfully deserved. He managed to solve the client’s problem and withstand a great deal more derogatory commentary from this guy. According to Jay, while he was on his own call, he was just watching Sam regulate his breath, his expression showing more and more frustration. After about ten minutes on the line, the guy’s problem was solved, and he was thanking Sam for the courteous service.
As he was wrapping up his own call documentation, Jay caught the end of Sam’s exchange with the guy, which apparently consisted of a very entertaining close.
Sam: Just one more thing, Mr. Jones. For future reference, I’m the biggest, blackest, meanest motherfucker you will ever set eyes on, and now I know where you live.
Can we get him cloned?
) HOOOO RAAAHHH!*
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