Tweet
Fecalpaint
Despite all my years at this jump, there are somethings even I haven't heard before... >.>
Patient Zero
SC: “-Hey, listen! I also wanna order number xxxx-”
Me: “-Good evening-”
Wait….were….were you talking to the recording? You were, weren’t you? You were trying to tell the “Please hold for the next available operator” voice what you wanted to order. Oh God. You can’t be serious. That is a level of dimness I have not yet encountered on this line.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “What is your name please?
SC: “…….G’asdj….uh….Roger.”
There are many names which are unisex in nature. Suitable for both man, and.....whatever you are. Vaguely woman? However, “Roger” is not one of them.
Me: “Your name is Roger or you’re ordering for Roger?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “..you’re ordering for Roger?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “May I speak with him then, please?”
SC: “Yep. I’m Roger!”
Me: “…..you just said you were placing an order for Roger.”
SC: “Yeah.”
This…..this is…..how do I put this? This caller is so mentally inept that her stupidity has created its own paradox. I am staring headlong into a Stupidity Paradox. And I am afraid.
Me: “May I speak with him, please?”
SC: “What?”
Me: “May I speak with Roger, please?”
SC: “Steve?”
…Wait, Steve? Who the Hell is Steve? Who was Roger? Who are you? How did you even survive to adulthood?
Me: “….excuse me?”
SC: “Steve?”
Me: “I don’t understand, sorry.”
SC: “Steve!”
Me: “….I still don’t understand what you’re trying to say?”
SC: “Stink?”
Me: “…….”
SC: “………<click>”
Gah! I actually feel like my mind has been damaged somehow by this encounter. You know, a few weeks back when I referred to the northern hordes and a possible zombie like outbreak that could be repelled only by literature, I was joking. However, there is a very real possibility I just encountered Patient Zero. I refuse to believe that someone with actual living, functional brain cells could be that stupid. It’s much easier to accept that it was merely a re-animated corpse hunched over a payphone. She probably came into the hospital suffering from a strange unknown disease and subsequently died. Only to rise again from the morgue, or….whatever passes for the morgue up there. Probably a gas station ice cream cooler. But none the less, this flesh hungry undead husk must have risen and then, driven by faint remnants of its humanity, made a beeline for the nearest pay phone to try and order pants.
Luckily I was not bitten and shall retain my upper brain functions. But the infection will no doubt spread to all of, er….well, maybe one or two more people tops before they all freeze or get dragged off by wolves and polar bears. Really, the arctic is kind of a crappy place for a zombie outbreak to be honest.
Infection
SC: “-buwa de non yay!”
Me: “.......Good evening.”
Its spreading.
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yes, I do sir!”
…..its worst than I thought. The entire village may be in dire jeopardy of……er…..well actually all that would happen would be they’d stumble towards a phone and call us. Then maybe go try and bite one of their neighbours before cold and/or alcohol overwhelms them and they pass out in a snow bank somewhere. Basically what they do anyhow, really. So honestly a zombie apocalypse really wouldn’t change anything that far north.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Jeff-For-Reeeeee”
Me: “With a G or a J?”
SC: “Jaaaaay”
On second thought, Jeff here may be undead, or he may simply be drunk and trying to do a Jack Nicholas impression. It’s difficult to say.
Hit Parade
This requires some context. We have a client with a 24 hour system, but not 24 hour support for said system. They forward their lines to us at night. This is not normally too much of a problem. But once every few months their end of the system goes down causing all 5000 of their clients to call me in a frothing rage for hours on end. At that point they use us as a scape goat, and I am growing deeply resentful of it.
It once again happened this week. Their network went down at 1:30am. They are not in till 6am. So it is Me vs 5000, and the rage. I actually clocked it using our monitoring stat software. One call every 5 seconds for 5 hours. And every last one a screaming asshole. I almost stopped answering them all together. Almost.
Hit Parade #2
SC: “Go to Hell!!!”
Really? Go to Hell? That’s the best you can do? I’ve been called things on this line I couldn’t repeat out loud long as my mother still walks this Earth. And you’re sitting here going “Go to Hell”? Come on man, put some effort into it. I’ve been called every possible swear word in the English language in at least 5 different accents in the last 2 hours alone. You’re going to have to step up your game here if you want to compete.
Hit Parade #3
SC: "THEN WHY THE FUCK DO THEY EVEN FUCKING HAVE YOU ANSWERING YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!"
Ahhh, yeah, there’s the stuff. Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel. Embrace the anger. Let it fill you. Give yourself to the Dark Side.
Hit Parade #4
SC: "Why the FUCK do you even ANSWERING THE PHONE!?"
Believe me when I say I’ve been wondering the exact same thing myself for the last 2 hours.
Hit Parade #5
SC: “You fucking son of a bitch! FUCK YOU!"
Hey now, leave my mom out of your rage filled descent into despair. All the other screaming and yelling is fine but let’s set some ground rules here: No talking about anyone’s mother, no shots below the belt, pets are off limits, no scratching, no biting and absolutely no wet willy’s. Indian burns and wedgies are fine, but only for up to 30 seconds at a time.
Hit Parade #6
SC: “FUCKING KILL THAT BASTARD!”
I’m……not sure who you’re referring too. As that outburst came rather randomly at the end of your sentence. It doesn’t seem to be me personally you’re wishing death upon. So I assume it’s someone at the client's office. However, I’m unfamiliar with this “Bastard” person you speak of. Does Mr Bastard have a first name? If you can narrow it down a bit, perhaps I could leave him a message.
Hit Parade #7
SC: “There’s around 5000 of us using this fucking system, you know!”
Me: "Believe me I am very aware of that."
You said that like I’m already not vividly, brutally aware of this fact. You do seem to have enough cognitive power to be aware of how many people are using the system. If you took just one little step of logic forward from there and realized that they all have this phone number too. Then perhaps you could grasp my current and most unfortunate situation.
Hit Parade #8
SC: “Yeah, thank you for help.”
Ahhhh…..sarcasm. Thank you, that’s a nice change of pace! If you can’t tell, that too was sarcasm!
Hit Parade #9
SC: “You should just fucking shut your business down already!”
Believe me, at this point such an event would come as a sweet, merciful relief.
Farewell to a Champion
SC: “Hi, my name is Vick.”
Hello, Uncle Vick. Pardon me if I’m a bit terse this evening. What can I do for you?
SC: “I’m letting you guys know I’m moving at the end of the month.”
Me: “…..”
SC: “At the end of the year I’m going back to my homeland in Andhra Pradesh, India”
…..India…..not that I doubt your cultural heritage, Vick. But, well….your name is Vick and you actually manage to sound whiter than Rick Astley.
SC: “Where’s only 13 million of us. Okay?”
Me: “Alllright….”
….13 million of “us”? Who is “us”? Are there more of you? Do you head some sort of organization? …..That is not a thought I wish to contemplate, to be honest.
SC: “I’m tired of fighting stuff that I don’t have no control over.”
Court ordered psych evaluations?
SC: “I love fighting for you guys, but it seems I’m in a losing battle. I wanna go home and just raise a family.”
I’m not sure what to say, Vick. Truly we have lost a great patriot and champion of freedom this day. If Al-Qaeda ever shows up at your sister’s place in Surrey again, who will stop them? Without you, your sister’s couch would be lost to terror. You leave us with a great hole in our hearts Vick, and we shall remember you always. Mostly in bemused conversation intermixed with snickering, but we shall remember.
Musical Interlude
On my way out of the station this evening I was asked if the platform I was departing from goes to Waterfront. I responded yes. At which point the inquirer turned to his friend and went “Yo foo! We be goin’ west!”. Ahhhh, We Be Goin’ West. I remember that song!
Be goin’ west,
Life be peaceful der
Be goin’ west
Shit got open air
Be goin’ west
Where da sky be blue
Be goin’ west
Foo, dats what we do!
Ah yes, truly a classic. By Mr. T, if I remember right. Why, I was still humming it when I got up to street level and walked past a man playing an accordion with his husky. Which….well, no, I’m not even going to ask. It’s Granville street. You just have to take things in stride. After all, 20 feet up from him on the corner was a girl who was embarrassingly white trying to rap out a song whose refrain seemed to be “Skytrain Dick”. Tough call really. If you only had a quarter in spare change and two awful Granville street acts to choose between would you go with Accordion Husky or Skytrain Dick? I think I might have to lean towards Accordion Husky. Skytrain Dick was creative, but poorly executed. But Accordion Husky was flawless. Still an accordion granted, but flawless performance none the less.
The Right Foot
( He was on hold for literally 10 seconds according to my call timer )
SC: “I’m sleepin’ here, been waiting so long.”
Ah, thank you. This is literally my first call of the shift and you’re starting it off on the right foot.
Me: “Are you calling from BC?”
SC: “Yeees, duh.”
I’m not sure what I have done to earn this level of childish spite. I don’t think I’ve even been speaking with you long enough to create such a rift between us. So it can’t be a personal issue. I can only logically conclude you are this much of a jerk on a normal, day to day basis. That’s a relief. I thought I may have done something, but you’re just naturally like this.
Me: “Do you have an customer ID?”
SC: “Whatever that is.”
The correct answer is either “Yes” or “No”. We’ve already established that you’re kind of a butthole. There is no need to keep reinforcing the point. You’ve already convinced me, it’s ok now. Let it go.
Me: “And your phone number, please?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx”
Me: “250 or 604?”
SC: “250! Vancouver is the only place you got 604. Everywhere else is 250!”
….no…no it isn’t. Also, again, that was a question with only two possible answers. Neither of which is “Act like an insufferable, cankerous old wanker to someone that’s just trying to do their job”.
Me: “How many tickets would you like?”
SC: “How much are they?! You guys don’t even put a price in the ad!!!”
You just gave me all your information and your credit card number without knowing how much the tickets cost? I guess I can pen in “Idiot” under “Cankerous” but before “Insufferable”. At the rate you’re revealing character traits it may be wise of me to organize the list alphabetically for quick reference.
So Lonely
Alright. You have a little tiny leak under your sink. A “Minor Water Leak™” if you will. How did you convey that? Did you say “Minor Water Leak”? No, of course not. You used, let’s see…..over 3 paragraphs actually. And honestly you didn’t even mention “water” until the end of the second paragraph. You were even about to go into a 4th paragraph when I decided I must stage an intervention. This had mixed results. As you still launched into the 4th Paragraph despite my pleading. I did finally manage to cut you off and explain that I did not need the 5th. A fact which seemed to leave you rather disappointed.
Look, it’s alright to admit your lonely and need someone to talk too. It’s just that “someone” shouldn’t be your plumber. He’s just not qualified for it. Neither am I, for that matter.
Yes, I'm An Asshole
Me: “And your last name please?”
SC: “Anderson”
Ahhh, Mr Anderson.
Me: “A-N-D-E-R-S-O-N?”
SC: “Uuhhh….<muttering to himself> a-n-d-e-r...uh....-s-o-n…..yeah!”
Repeating your last name back to yourself to try and figure out if its right…..this is a level of intellectual sadness that can really only be found at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Several bottles. At a young age. For many, many years. Possibly in the womb.
Me: “And your phone number please, Mr Anderson?”
SC: “Uh, xxxx”
Me: “……”
SC: “…you need the whole number?”
Me: “Yes, please.”
SC: “…..uh….the area code too?”
I sense…….fear? Really? The prospect of trying to mentally formulate your entire phone number is actually inspiring terror?
Me: “Alright, what size?”
SC: “X-Large”
Me: “Alright. Will there be anything else, Mr Anderson?”
What? It's called "personalizing" the call! QA tells me to do it all the time. I'm just following instructions. <cough>
Sorry, We Don't Accept That Card Here
Me: “You’re just being detained, correct? Not arrested?”
SC: “That’s what they said, but you know, I’m just like everyone else. Came here for vacation, did a few things. They just pull you over and give you a hard time. Thousand other people get to walk through, you know. I guess they don’t like my colour, obviously.”
Wait wait wait wait wait….did you just play the race card? In Vancouver? …ha….hahahahah…..bahahahaha! Seriously? I mean, seriously? Dude, did you look outside even once since you’ve been here? We’re more multicultural then the building crew of the Tower of Babel the day they got their pink slips.
I mean for Christ sakes, I spoke with the officer that brought you in before speaking with you and he was East Indian.
SC: “I didn’t know you couldn’t visit another country, you know what I’m saying?”
No, actually, no I don’t.
SC: “Cus this is ridiculous, we let them come to the US and from other places.”
Them™? I’m not sure what you mean by…..ooooh, wait, you think I’m American too, don’t you? This is the part where I’m suppose to agree with you and we both lament about damn foreigners coming to Amerika and stealing our jerbs? Sorry, but I’m actually Canadian and technically you’re the foreigner at the moment. Though I do not fear you will commit thievery upon our job market. Mainly because they’re throwing you out of the country now.
How Romantic
Lets say you think your neighbour in the apartment across the hall is kind of cute. You've talked to her a few times. Have a bit of a crush on her. You're working up the courage to ask her out when one day you see her leaving her apartment with a male suitor. Gasp!
Do you A) Give up on her, she's obviously taken. B) Ask her out anyway, perhaps you can woo her away or C) Wait till she's gone, break into her place, bring your own beer, get drunk, piss on the couch, piss on the carpet, piss in the bed, destroy all her family photos, tear out her closest, piss in it for good measure then finger paint all of the walls in her apartment with your own feces.
If you actually answered C, then both me, the building manager and the Vancouver Police would like to have a word with you.
annnnd rest.
Patient Zero
SC: “-Hey, listen! I also wanna order number xxxx-”
Me: “-Good evening-”
Wait….were….were you talking to the recording? You were, weren’t you? You were trying to tell the “Please hold for the next available operator” voice what you wanted to order. Oh God. You can’t be serious. That is a level of dimness I have not yet encountered on this line.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Huh?”
Me: “What is your name please?
SC: “…….G’asdj….uh….Roger.”
There are many names which are unisex in nature. Suitable for both man, and.....whatever you are. Vaguely woman? However, “Roger” is not one of them.
Me: “Your name is Roger or you’re ordering for Roger?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “..you’re ordering for Roger?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “May I speak with him then, please?”
SC: “Yep. I’m Roger!”
Me: “…..you just said you were placing an order for Roger.”
SC: “Yeah.”
This…..this is…..how do I put this? This caller is so mentally inept that her stupidity has created its own paradox. I am staring headlong into a Stupidity Paradox. And I am afraid.
Me: “May I speak with him, please?”
SC: “What?”
Me: “May I speak with Roger, please?”
SC: “Steve?”
…Wait, Steve? Who the Hell is Steve? Who was Roger? Who are you? How did you even survive to adulthood?
Me: “….excuse me?”
SC: “Steve?”
Me: “I don’t understand, sorry.”
SC: “Steve!”
Me: “….I still don’t understand what you’re trying to say?”
SC: “Stink?”
Me: “…….”
SC: “………<click>”
Gah! I actually feel like my mind has been damaged somehow by this encounter. You know, a few weeks back when I referred to the northern hordes and a possible zombie like outbreak that could be repelled only by literature, I was joking. However, there is a very real possibility I just encountered Patient Zero. I refuse to believe that someone with actual living, functional brain cells could be that stupid. It’s much easier to accept that it was merely a re-animated corpse hunched over a payphone. She probably came into the hospital suffering from a strange unknown disease and subsequently died. Only to rise again from the morgue, or….whatever passes for the morgue up there. Probably a gas station ice cream cooler. But none the less, this flesh hungry undead husk must have risen and then, driven by faint remnants of its humanity, made a beeline for the nearest pay phone to try and order pants.
Luckily I was not bitten and shall retain my upper brain functions. But the infection will no doubt spread to all of, er….well, maybe one or two more people tops before they all freeze or get dragged off by wolves and polar bears. Really, the arctic is kind of a crappy place for a zombie outbreak to be honest.
Infection
SC: “-buwa de non yay!”
Me: “.......Good evening.”
Its spreading.
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yes, I do sir!”
…..its worst than I thought. The entire village may be in dire jeopardy of……er…..well actually all that would happen would be they’d stumble towards a phone and call us. Then maybe go try and bite one of their neighbours before cold and/or alcohol overwhelms them and they pass out in a snow bank somewhere. Basically what they do anyhow, really. So honestly a zombie apocalypse really wouldn’t change anything that far north.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Jeff-For-Reeeeee”
Me: “With a G or a J?”
SC: “Jaaaaay”
On second thought, Jeff here may be undead, or he may simply be drunk and trying to do a Jack Nicholas impression. It’s difficult to say.
Hit Parade
This requires some context. We have a client with a 24 hour system, but not 24 hour support for said system. They forward their lines to us at night. This is not normally too much of a problem. But once every few months their end of the system goes down causing all 5000 of their clients to call me in a frothing rage for hours on end. At that point they use us as a scape goat, and I am growing deeply resentful of it.
It once again happened this week. Their network went down at 1:30am. They are not in till 6am. So it is Me vs 5000, and the rage. I actually clocked it using our monitoring stat software. One call every 5 seconds for 5 hours. And every last one a screaming asshole. I almost stopped answering them all together. Almost.
Hit Parade #2
SC: “Go to Hell!!!”
Really? Go to Hell? That’s the best you can do? I’ve been called things on this line I couldn’t repeat out loud long as my mother still walks this Earth. And you’re sitting here going “Go to Hell”? Come on man, put some effort into it. I’ve been called every possible swear word in the English language in at least 5 different accents in the last 2 hours alone. You’re going to have to step up your game here if you want to compete.
Hit Parade #3
SC: "THEN WHY THE FUCK DO THEY EVEN FUCKING HAVE YOU ANSWERING YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!"
Ahhh, yeah, there’s the stuff. Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel. Embrace the anger. Let it fill you. Give yourself to the Dark Side.
Hit Parade #4
SC: "Why the FUCK do you even ANSWERING THE PHONE!?"
Believe me when I say I’ve been wondering the exact same thing myself for the last 2 hours.
Hit Parade #5
SC: “You fucking son of a bitch! FUCK YOU!"
Hey now, leave my mom out of your rage filled descent into despair. All the other screaming and yelling is fine but let’s set some ground rules here: No talking about anyone’s mother, no shots below the belt, pets are off limits, no scratching, no biting and absolutely no wet willy’s. Indian burns and wedgies are fine, but only for up to 30 seconds at a time.
Hit Parade #6
SC: “FUCKING KILL THAT BASTARD!”
I’m……not sure who you’re referring too. As that outburst came rather randomly at the end of your sentence. It doesn’t seem to be me personally you’re wishing death upon. So I assume it’s someone at the client's office. However, I’m unfamiliar with this “Bastard” person you speak of. Does Mr Bastard have a first name? If you can narrow it down a bit, perhaps I could leave him a message.
Hit Parade #7
SC: “There’s around 5000 of us using this fucking system, you know!”
Me: "Believe me I am very aware of that."
You said that like I’m already not vividly, brutally aware of this fact. You do seem to have enough cognitive power to be aware of how many people are using the system. If you took just one little step of logic forward from there and realized that they all have this phone number too. Then perhaps you could grasp my current and most unfortunate situation.
Hit Parade #8
SC: “Yeah, thank you for help.”
Ahhhh…..sarcasm. Thank you, that’s a nice change of pace! If you can’t tell, that too was sarcasm!
Hit Parade #9
SC: “You should just fucking shut your business down already!”
Believe me, at this point such an event would come as a sweet, merciful relief.
Farewell to a Champion
SC: “Hi, my name is Vick.”
Hello, Uncle Vick. Pardon me if I’m a bit terse this evening. What can I do for you?
SC: “I’m letting you guys know I’m moving at the end of the month.”
Me: “…..”
SC: “At the end of the year I’m going back to my homeland in Andhra Pradesh, India”
…..India…..not that I doubt your cultural heritage, Vick. But, well….your name is Vick and you actually manage to sound whiter than Rick Astley.
SC: “Where’s only 13 million of us. Okay?”
Me: “Alllright….”
….13 million of “us”? Who is “us”? Are there more of you? Do you head some sort of organization? …..That is not a thought I wish to contemplate, to be honest.
SC: “I’m tired of fighting stuff that I don’t have no control over.”
Court ordered psych evaluations?
SC: “I love fighting for you guys, but it seems I’m in a losing battle. I wanna go home and just raise a family.”
I’m not sure what to say, Vick. Truly we have lost a great patriot and champion of freedom this day. If Al-Qaeda ever shows up at your sister’s place in Surrey again, who will stop them? Without you, your sister’s couch would be lost to terror. You leave us with a great hole in our hearts Vick, and we shall remember you always. Mostly in bemused conversation intermixed with snickering, but we shall remember.
Musical Interlude
On my way out of the station this evening I was asked if the platform I was departing from goes to Waterfront. I responded yes. At which point the inquirer turned to his friend and went “Yo foo! We be goin’ west!”. Ahhhh, We Be Goin’ West. I remember that song!
Be goin’ west,
Life be peaceful der
Be goin’ west
Shit got open air
Be goin’ west
Where da sky be blue
Be goin’ west
Foo, dats what we do!
Ah yes, truly a classic. By Mr. T, if I remember right. Why, I was still humming it when I got up to street level and walked past a man playing an accordion with his husky. Which….well, no, I’m not even going to ask. It’s Granville street. You just have to take things in stride. After all, 20 feet up from him on the corner was a girl who was embarrassingly white trying to rap out a song whose refrain seemed to be “Skytrain Dick”. Tough call really. If you only had a quarter in spare change and two awful Granville street acts to choose between would you go with Accordion Husky or Skytrain Dick? I think I might have to lean towards Accordion Husky. Skytrain Dick was creative, but poorly executed. But Accordion Husky was flawless. Still an accordion granted, but flawless performance none the less.
The Right Foot
( He was on hold for literally 10 seconds according to my call timer )
SC: “I’m sleepin’ here, been waiting so long.”
Ah, thank you. This is literally my first call of the shift and you’re starting it off on the right foot.
Me: “Are you calling from BC?”
SC: “Yeees, duh.”
I’m not sure what I have done to earn this level of childish spite. I don’t think I’ve even been speaking with you long enough to create such a rift between us. So it can’t be a personal issue. I can only logically conclude you are this much of a jerk on a normal, day to day basis. That’s a relief. I thought I may have done something, but you’re just naturally like this.
Me: “Do you have an customer ID?”
SC: “Whatever that is.”
The correct answer is either “Yes” or “No”. We’ve already established that you’re kind of a butthole. There is no need to keep reinforcing the point. You’ve already convinced me, it’s ok now. Let it go.
Me: “And your phone number, please?”
SC: “xxx-xxxx”
Me: “250 or 604?”
SC: “250! Vancouver is the only place you got 604. Everywhere else is 250!”
….no…no it isn’t. Also, again, that was a question with only two possible answers. Neither of which is “Act like an insufferable, cankerous old wanker to someone that’s just trying to do their job”.
Me: “How many tickets would you like?”
SC: “How much are they?! You guys don’t even put a price in the ad!!!”
You just gave me all your information and your credit card number without knowing how much the tickets cost? I guess I can pen in “Idiot” under “Cankerous” but before “Insufferable”. At the rate you’re revealing character traits it may be wise of me to organize the list alphabetically for quick reference.
So Lonely
Alright. You have a little tiny leak under your sink. A “Minor Water Leak™” if you will. How did you convey that? Did you say “Minor Water Leak”? No, of course not. You used, let’s see…..over 3 paragraphs actually. And honestly you didn’t even mention “water” until the end of the second paragraph. You were even about to go into a 4th paragraph when I decided I must stage an intervention. This had mixed results. As you still launched into the 4th Paragraph despite my pleading. I did finally manage to cut you off and explain that I did not need the 5th. A fact which seemed to leave you rather disappointed.
Look, it’s alright to admit your lonely and need someone to talk too. It’s just that “someone” shouldn’t be your plumber. He’s just not qualified for it. Neither am I, for that matter.
Yes, I'm An Asshole
Me: “And your last name please?”
SC: “Anderson”
Ahhh, Mr Anderson.
Me: “A-N-D-E-R-S-O-N?”
SC: “Uuhhh….<muttering to himself> a-n-d-e-r...uh....-s-o-n…..yeah!”
Repeating your last name back to yourself to try and figure out if its right…..this is a level of intellectual sadness that can really only be found at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Several bottles. At a young age. For many, many years. Possibly in the womb.
Me: “And your phone number please, Mr Anderson?”
SC: “Uh, xxxx”
Me: “……”
SC: “…you need the whole number?”
Me: “Yes, please.”
SC: “…..uh….the area code too?”
I sense…….fear? Really? The prospect of trying to mentally formulate your entire phone number is actually inspiring terror?
Me: “Alright, what size?”
SC: “X-Large”
Me: “Alright. Will there be anything else, Mr Anderson?”
What? It's called "personalizing" the call! QA tells me to do it all the time. I'm just following instructions. <cough>
Sorry, We Don't Accept That Card Here
Me: “You’re just being detained, correct? Not arrested?”
SC: “That’s what they said, but you know, I’m just like everyone else. Came here for vacation, did a few things. They just pull you over and give you a hard time. Thousand other people get to walk through, you know. I guess they don’t like my colour, obviously.”
Wait wait wait wait wait….did you just play the race card? In Vancouver? …ha….hahahahah…..bahahahaha! Seriously? I mean, seriously? Dude, did you look outside even once since you’ve been here? We’re more multicultural then the building crew of the Tower of Babel the day they got their pink slips.
I mean for Christ sakes, I spoke with the officer that brought you in before speaking with you and he was East Indian.
SC: “I didn’t know you couldn’t visit another country, you know what I’m saying?”
No, actually, no I don’t.
SC: “Cus this is ridiculous, we let them come to the US and from other places.”
Them™? I’m not sure what you mean by…..ooooh, wait, you think I’m American too, don’t you? This is the part where I’m suppose to agree with you and we both lament about damn foreigners coming to Amerika and stealing our jerbs? Sorry, but I’m actually Canadian and technically you’re the foreigner at the moment. Though I do not fear you will commit thievery upon our job market. Mainly because they’re throwing you out of the country now.
How Romantic
Lets say you think your neighbour in the apartment across the hall is kind of cute. You've talked to her a few times. Have a bit of a crush on her. You're working up the courage to ask her out when one day you see her leaving her apartment with a male suitor. Gasp!
Do you A) Give up on her, she's obviously taken. B) Ask her out anyway, perhaps you can woo her away or C) Wait till she's gone, break into her place, bring your own beer, get drunk, piss on the couch, piss on the carpet, piss in the bed, destroy all her family photos, tear out her closest, piss in it for good measure then finger paint all of the walls in her apartment with your own feces.
If you actually answered C, then both me, the building manager and the Vancouver Police would like to have a word with you.
annnnd rest.
ffers Gravekeeper quilts and homemade cookies:: You sir are a legend among men.
Comment