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Office Of The Damned
The curse is spreading. >.>
Setting The Tone....Again
So I come back this week and….….a gas leak? Really? You guys had to evacuate? So just to connect the misery dots here, 2 weeks ago <coworker> accidently locks herself and thus me out of the office for 2 hours, 1 week ago I get skunked and this week the building is evacuated because of a gask leak?
I am well and truly the harbinger of misfortune, aren’t I? As an added bonus, they’re pumping some sort of vanilla scented deodorizer throughout the building. However, its opponent is quite powerful and its taking some time to claim victory. So at the moment there’s this wonderful blend of scents in the air that make the office smell like vanilla with a delicate twist of raw ass.
I Hate When I'm Right
Me: “And your first name please?”
SC: “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnn”
Me: “……can you spell that please?”
SC: “…………..”
Me: “…………..?”
Ah, my apologies. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that was an actual word. When in fact it must have been some sort of unique cry or bellow that indentifies you to the rest of the herd. My bad, I forgot what line I was dealing with for a moment and made the mistaken assumption that more than rudimentary communication would be possible. I must admit I am not sure how to rephrase the question in a manner you would understand. Nor am I paid enough to sit here and utter goat like bleets into my headset in an attempt to secure your order.
Me: “And your last name please?”
SC: “….O-O-O-A-O-O-T”
…….oooaoot? Ok, dude, seriously. That above paragraph? That was a joke. I was just kidding. Joshing around. Having a little fun at your expense. Now you’ve gone and proven me right. You made my joke not a joke anymore. You have taken away the smiles and happiness of mirth and replaced it with only fear and uncertainty.
Why must you ruin everything?
Wrapping Your Head Around It
SC: "Ok so you get 3 tickets for $75?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So the chances are 1 in 300,000?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Does that mean 3 tickets is equal to 1? How does that work? Is 3 tickets 3 tickets?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So, uh, the minimum you have to buy is 3 right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So that means the odds are….uh…..300,000 tickets…..meaning like….each ticket is one ticket right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Oh……alright, so that means the odds are……uh……so 3 tickets you buy for $75 is considered 3 tickets, right?”
Me: “...Yes.”
SC: “and uh…..ok…..uh…..how many tickets are sold as a package?”
Me: “3 is the minimum sold as a package.”
SC: “So 3 is a package, ok, so, uh, so the odds are, the one ticket is considered like.....You get 3 tickets there……and uh…..ok….ummm….........uh....”
I never thought I would say this but: I’m afraid you’re just not intellectually qualified to purchase a lottery ticket. This entire exchange has been the verbal equivalent of putting a Chinese finger trap on a monkey. Let me know when you decide to stop pulling on the ends and manage to actually reason your way out of this. When or if you do, I’ll be here, waiting to take your credit card information.
There’s a banana in it for you.
The Cat And I
SC: “I seem to be having some problems because I smoke and I have a cat.”
Can’t help you. I too know feline terror and I fear I have already been compromised. I cannot speak ill of her lest she find out and I am severely puni-I mean yes they are wonderful, loving creatures and in no way do I live in constant anguish-er, yes, loving.
( Send help. )
SC: “The guy you sent last time complained about it. I don't want him over here again. Find me someone that won't complain about it or just cancel my appointment.”
Me: “....Alright, I'll notify the office in the morning, but they're closed right now.”
SC: “Yeah, I guess so. Well, I was just thinking about it all evening and I was sitting here watching my Law & Order shows with the cat.”
Its 3am, you’re awake, smoking with your cat and watching Law & Order? Good times, good times.
Hate
( So much hate. )
Not that this has anything to do with <client>'s on call technician, but I’d just like to mention that anyone who has recorded a song ( Especially a "novelty" one ) as their answering machine message should be beaten with that answering machine until that answering machine no longer functions and can no longer play back that song.
You know, just as a totally innocent, off hand observation.
Don't Wanna Know
( Yeah, we have a new client that sells domains. It's been.....interesting, so far. )
Me: “And what was the domain name you were interested in?”
SC: “Well I’m not going to say it out loud over the phone, heh heh heh.....”
Oh good, from the moment we got this account I was just waiting ( and quietly fearing ) for someone to inquire about more, let’s say lurid domain names. As they present me with a most unpleasant conundrum. I do not want to know what domain name your strange fur pelt lingerie website calls for. But at the same time, I cannot enter an inquiry for you without the domain name.
It seems we are at a crossroads with thongweasel.com hanging in the balance.
Confidence
( Lottery account again, hisss~ )
SC: “Can you confirm my name again? Just so you know who to call.”
……when your credit card is declined? Of course!
Sigh
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Ya, I wanna to order lots of stuff!”
And you want to do this in the middle of a lottery deadline when we have 30 calls in queue. As if you subconsciously sensed just how deep in the shit we were and were unwaveringly drawn straight to us so you could frolic amidst it. Like some sort of misery dung beetle. Now you’re going to waste 10 minutes of my time rolling it into a little ball around me while you slobber off 6 or 7 item numbers for pants.
What Do You Say To That?
Me: “I’m sorry, you’ve called the wrong number.”
SC: “Why?”
Me: “….be….cause you dialed the number wrong…?”
SC: "Oh."
Really, I don’t know how else to explain this to you. Let alone understand why you would actually ask me that question. So congratulations, you have rendered me just as confused as you are. I assume that now that you have dragged me down to your level, you will proceed to beat me with experience.
I fearfully await the agony of defeat.
Gradin' Honeys
This evening, much to my chagrin, I was enclosed in the Skytrain tube with a couple of self proclaimed “pimps” who were having a lengthy discussion on how one might evaluate females. The scent of Axe bodyspray was of course overwhelmingly present. But specifically they had developed a system of currency conversion whereby all females in a given location are assigned a monetary value ranging from a nickel to a quarter. This had triggered a lively debate whereby one of thesewould be pimps insisted on going straight to the quarters, while the other professed a strategy whereby you would make friends with several nickels and could exchange them for a quarter. As the more nickels or dimes you knew, the more likely one of them knew a quarter and could introduce you.
I couldn’t help but note that despite their supposed expertise in females, neither one of them was accompanied by a female. Not even a nickel.
Off To A Good Start
Me: “Good evening, <company>. How can I help you?”
SC: “…….uhhhhhh…….”
That was exactly the response I was looking for, thank you. Nothing reassures me more on lines that deal with complex technical issues than a caller whose first utterance is little more than the deeply confused noise of air escaping the skull. Unless this was not confusion but in fact some sort of pressure release valve I’m unaware of. Perhaps the inner workings of your brain are some sort of older, cold war era Soviet model and prone to overheating in more temperate climates?
Unintended Side Effects
Its rapidly becoming evident that this client ( The domain seller ) has two rather critical flaws: A) People are stupid and B) The Internet reaches the entire world. Thus allowing the dull witted and weak minded across the entire globe free access to our unfortunate selves. I’ve been getting an alarming number of calls, easily half of all calls, from people who go to a website domain, see our number under the "For sale" part than call the phone and ask about the topic of the domain. This so far has lead to people from all voer the world calling me to ask about school courses, cell phones, radios, cars and “exotic dancing” classes amongst other things.
No one has inquired about crotchless weasel pelt panties yet though. Yet.
Fine Dining
C: “Yeah I got problem here with a credit card sale stuck in the system.”
Me: “Alright, what’s the name of the store please?”
C: “The Taco Hole.”
Mhmmmm. Doesn’t that just make your mouth water? “The Taco Hole”, oh yes. Truly this must be a glistening den of culinary delights. I must track down this establishment and bare witness to its glory with my own eyes. Help me out here Google…..ahh, here we are. Even a printable menu. My tastebuds quiver with excitement......wait, ahhhh, here's the problem. Literally the first thing on your menu is that you sell Corona by the bucket. By the bucket.
So I assume you’re having trouble with a credit card because no one’s ever used one in your establishment before.
Ugh.
( One of our clients has a new on call tech. He's......yeah. )
Me: “Hi, it’s <company>., I just have a new work order for you.”
OC: “Dammit, you guys always call at the worst time. It’s like you know when a guy’s just about to get it on and have some you know, fun.”
.....right, ok. Let me be the first to assure you that neither I, nor your callers have the ability to remotely sense when you're aroused. So this is all just an unfortunate coincidence.
So let us never speak of this again.
annnnnd rest.
My office is cursed. Its the only explaination Even after the gas leak, the next day we had the busiest lottery deadline in 2 years. Then the morning after that someone committed suicide on the street next door to our building so anyone leaving, such as myself, exited directly into a crime scene. >.>
The strange misfortune is beginning to spread to coworkers too....
Setting The Tone....Again
So I come back this week and….….a gas leak? Really? You guys had to evacuate? So just to connect the misery dots here, 2 weeks ago <coworker> accidently locks herself and thus me out of the office for 2 hours, 1 week ago I get skunked and this week the building is evacuated because of a gask leak?
I am well and truly the harbinger of misfortune, aren’t I? As an added bonus, they’re pumping some sort of vanilla scented deodorizer throughout the building. However, its opponent is quite powerful and its taking some time to claim victory. So at the moment there’s this wonderful blend of scents in the air that make the office smell like vanilla with a delicate twist of raw ass.
I Hate When I'm Right
Me: “And your first name please?”
SC: “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnn”
Me: “……can you spell that please?”
SC: “…………..”
Me: “…………..?”
Ah, my apologies. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that was an actual word. When in fact it must have been some sort of unique cry or bellow that indentifies you to the rest of the herd. My bad, I forgot what line I was dealing with for a moment and made the mistaken assumption that more than rudimentary communication would be possible. I must admit I am not sure how to rephrase the question in a manner you would understand. Nor am I paid enough to sit here and utter goat like bleets into my headset in an attempt to secure your order.
Me: “And your last name please?”
SC: “….O-O-O-A-O-O-T”
…….oooaoot? Ok, dude, seriously. That above paragraph? That was a joke. I was just kidding. Joshing around. Having a little fun at your expense. Now you’ve gone and proven me right. You made my joke not a joke anymore. You have taken away the smiles and happiness of mirth and replaced it with only fear and uncertainty.
Why must you ruin everything?
Wrapping Your Head Around It
SC: "Ok so you get 3 tickets for $75?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So the chances are 1 in 300,000?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Does that mean 3 tickets is equal to 1? How does that work? Is 3 tickets 3 tickets?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So, uh, the minimum you have to buy is 3 right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “So that means the odds are….uh…..300,000 tickets…..meaning like….each ticket is one ticket right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Oh……alright, so that means the odds are……uh……so 3 tickets you buy for $75 is considered 3 tickets, right?”
Me: “...Yes.”
SC: “and uh…..ok…..uh…..how many tickets are sold as a package?”
Me: “3 is the minimum sold as a package.”
SC: “So 3 is a package, ok, so, uh, so the odds are, the one ticket is considered like.....You get 3 tickets there……and uh…..ok….ummm….........uh....”
I never thought I would say this but: I’m afraid you’re just not intellectually qualified to purchase a lottery ticket. This entire exchange has been the verbal equivalent of putting a Chinese finger trap on a monkey. Let me know when you decide to stop pulling on the ends and manage to actually reason your way out of this. When or if you do, I’ll be here, waiting to take your credit card information.
There’s a banana in it for you.
The Cat And I
SC: “I seem to be having some problems because I smoke and I have a cat.”
Can’t help you. I too know feline terror and I fear I have already been compromised. I cannot speak ill of her lest she find out and I am severely puni-I mean yes they are wonderful, loving creatures and in no way do I live in constant anguish-er, yes, loving.
( Send help. )
SC: “The guy you sent last time complained about it. I don't want him over here again. Find me someone that won't complain about it or just cancel my appointment.”
Me: “....Alright, I'll notify the office in the morning, but they're closed right now.”
SC: “Yeah, I guess so. Well, I was just thinking about it all evening and I was sitting here watching my Law & Order shows with the cat.”
Its 3am, you’re awake, smoking with your cat and watching Law & Order? Good times, good times.
Hate
( So much hate. )
Not that this has anything to do with <client>'s on call technician, but I’d just like to mention that anyone who has recorded a song ( Especially a "novelty" one ) as their answering machine message should be beaten with that answering machine until that answering machine no longer functions and can no longer play back that song.
You know, just as a totally innocent, off hand observation.
Don't Wanna Know
( Yeah, we have a new client that sells domains. It's been.....interesting, so far. )
Me: “And what was the domain name you were interested in?”
SC: “Well I’m not going to say it out loud over the phone, heh heh heh.....”
Oh good, from the moment we got this account I was just waiting ( and quietly fearing ) for someone to inquire about more, let’s say lurid domain names. As they present me with a most unpleasant conundrum. I do not want to know what domain name your strange fur pelt lingerie website calls for. But at the same time, I cannot enter an inquiry for you without the domain name.
It seems we are at a crossroads with thongweasel.com hanging in the balance.
Confidence
( Lottery account again, hisss~ )
SC: “Can you confirm my name again? Just so you know who to call.”
……when your credit card is declined? Of course!
Sigh
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Ya, I wanna to order lots of stuff!”
And you want to do this in the middle of a lottery deadline when we have 30 calls in queue. As if you subconsciously sensed just how deep in the shit we were and were unwaveringly drawn straight to us so you could frolic amidst it. Like some sort of misery dung beetle. Now you’re going to waste 10 minutes of my time rolling it into a little ball around me while you slobber off 6 or 7 item numbers for pants.
What Do You Say To That?
Me: “I’m sorry, you’ve called the wrong number.”
SC: “Why?”
Me: “….be….cause you dialed the number wrong…?”
SC: "Oh."
Really, I don’t know how else to explain this to you. Let alone understand why you would actually ask me that question. So congratulations, you have rendered me just as confused as you are. I assume that now that you have dragged me down to your level, you will proceed to beat me with experience.
I fearfully await the agony of defeat.
Gradin' Honeys
This evening, much to my chagrin, I was enclosed in the Skytrain tube with a couple of self proclaimed “pimps” who were having a lengthy discussion on how one might evaluate females. The scent of Axe bodyspray was of course overwhelmingly present. But specifically they had developed a system of currency conversion whereby all females in a given location are assigned a monetary value ranging from a nickel to a quarter. This had triggered a lively debate whereby one of thesewould be pimps insisted on going straight to the quarters, while the other professed a strategy whereby you would make friends with several nickels and could exchange them for a quarter. As the more nickels or dimes you knew, the more likely one of them knew a quarter and could introduce you.
I couldn’t help but note that despite their supposed expertise in females, neither one of them was accompanied by a female. Not even a nickel.
Off To A Good Start
Me: “Good evening, <company>. How can I help you?”
SC: “…….uhhhhhh…….”
That was exactly the response I was looking for, thank you. Nothing reassures me more on lines that deal with complex technical issues than a caller whose first utterance is little more than the deeply confused noise of air escaping the skull. Unless this was not confusion but in fact some sort of pressure release valve I’m unaware of. Perhaps the inner workings of your brain are some sort of older, cold war era Soviet model and prone to overheating in more temperate climates?
Unintended Side Effects
Its rapidly becoming evident that this client ( The domain seller ) has two rather critical flaws: A) People are stupid and B) The Internet reaches the entire world. Thus allowing the dull witted and weak minded across the entire globe free access to our unfortunate selves. I’ve been getting an alarming number of calls, easily half of all calls, from people who go to a website domain, see our number under the "For sale" part than call the phone and ask about the topic of the domain. This so far has lead to people from all voer the world calling me to ask about school courses, cell phones, radios, cars and “exotic dancing” classes amongst other things.
No one has inquired about crotchless weasel pelt panties yet though. Yet.
Fine Dining
C: “Yeah I got problem here with a credit card sale stuck in the system.”
Me: “Alright, what’s the name of the store please?”
C: “The Taco Hole.”
Mhmmmm. Doesn’t that just make your mouth water? “The Taco Hole”, oh yes. Truly this must be a glistening den of culinary delights. I must track down this establishment and bare witness to its glory with my own eyes. Help me out here Google…..ahh, here we are. Even a printable menu. My tastebuds quiver with excitement......wait, ahhhh, here's the problem. Literally the first thing on your menu is that you sell Corona by the bucket. By the bucket.
So I assume you’re having trouble with a credit card because no one’s ever used one in your establishment before.
Ugh.
( One of our clients has a new on call tech. He's......yeah. )
Me: “Hi, it’s <company>., I just have a new work order for you.”
OC: “Dammit, you guys always call at the worst time. It’s like you know when a guy’s just about to get it on and have some you know, fun.”
.....right, ok. Let me be the first to assure you that neither I, nor your callers have the ability to remotely sense when you're aroused. So this is all just an unfortunate coincidence.
So let us never speak of this again.
annnnnd rest.
My office is cursed. Its the only explaination Even after the gas leak, the next day we had the busiest lottery deadline in 2 years. Then the morning after that someone committed suicide on the street next door to our building so anyone leaving, such as myself, exited directly into a crime scene. >.>
The strange misfortune is beginning to spread to coworkers too....
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