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There's Something In The Water
It's the only explaination. They're getting worse. >.>
Guidelines
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “C-O-J-O-C-T-O-O-N-O-O-I-C”
Oh! I’m sorry, but that’s too many O’s. Per the new guidelines I put in place last week, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disqualify you from ordering. I know, it sucks. But thems the rules now. It’s not all doom and gloom though. You only need to find some way to compact that…name….into more digestible bits. I mean really, 6 O’s? You don’t need 6 O’s. Surely you can do without at least one or two of them. 4 O’s is pushing it but just barely skirts within the guidelines. But at least you could order then. So really, all you need do is take a deep breath, move forward and put at least two of these O’s behind you.
It will hurt at first. But it's for the best in the long run.
Hot Tips: Tokyo Rose
( This guy has decided to become a regular. )
SC: “My name is Ed. I’m a friend of Darrin K. Heb. Who is the executive assistant to the director of presidential correspondence.”
And I am the Queen-Consort of Palau. We are pleased to make your acquaintance. Note it is customary for visitors to offer a gift to royalty when coming to call. Traditionally, a white feral cat wrapped in tobacco and mint leaves is considered appropriate. But please do not let go of it until after your audience has concluded. It is considered back luck otherwise. It is also considered an ill omen if you bleed on the ground at any point while in our presence.
SC: “I was wondering if you have any nice young secretaries that would like to go out to dinner next week.”
We have many things. And while it is true we could technically facilitate this request, we are the Queen-Consort, not the Queen-Pimp. So we will have to decline.
Me: “…no, no we don’t.”
SC: “Why not?”
Your desperate and honestly almost kind of sad to look upon attempt to grasp some sort of shred of female companionship is of no concern to the US or Palau governments. Please take your quest for vagina elsewhere. Peasent.
Oh For..
SC: “He’s been banging and yelling for help for 5 minutes.”
Me: “Have you called 911?”
SC: “No, should I?”
Sometimes, there is no joke I can make. All I can do is sit here and bang my head into the desk.
Hot Tips: Tokyo Rose
SC: “I’d like to send Nancy Sinatra a nice Christmas gift. Can I send it through you guys?”
We are also not the Queen-Postmaster.
Swiftness
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “No, I want to buy a coat.”
Ahh, a swift one I see. Very well, I shall attempt to lower my verbal communication down to your level. I assume we’ll be working with single syllable words alone? Bare with me here, I haven’t quite pinpointed your level of swiftness yet. It may be a minute before I can come up with an accurate diagnosis. I’m hovering somewhere between “molasses uphill” and “William Shatner on a treadmill” at the moment.
Me: “…so, you’re calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Right, “Betty White in the Amazing Race” it is. Got it. Thanks for waiting.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Sarah”
Hello, Sarah. You know it’s 3 in the morning, right? And that anyone seriously shopping for a coat at this hour probably has much deeper issues in their life they need to be attending too? Not that I’m implying anything of course. I’m just saying.
Me: “And your phone number, please?”
SC: “xxxx-xx-xxx”
Me: “I’m sorry, what was that again?”
SC: “xx....xx.......xxxxxxx”
Me: “xxx-xxxx?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “Alright, what’s the area code for the phone number please?”
SC: “Um…..Sarah.”
Me: “No, what’s your area code please?”
SC: “Manitoba?”
Me: “No, your area code?”
SC: “Area?”
Me: “Yes, area code.”
SC: “<postal code>?”
Me “…no, your area code please? For your phone number? The first three numbers?”
SC: “Oh….uh…..um……….<click>”
Ah, a textbook case of “Oh god I don’t understand, quick! Tell him everything I know! Something might be the right answer!.”. Well, ok your mental voice probably isn’t that coherent and probably slurs. But still, you get the idea. Well, no, you probably don’t I suppose. I’m just talking to myself now anyway. You’re probably hiding behind the couch with the dog.
Friday 1:32am
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “What?!”
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “WHAT?!!”
Me: “I said, are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “One sec, let me turn the TV down.”
No no, please don’t. I quite enjoy having to shout everything and this is a really good episode of Law & Order. Really, I could not paint a more perfect picture of how I’d love to spend an evening then sitting here screaming into my headset only to be periodically interrupted by that “DUN DUN” noise.
Hey, next time it goes to commercial could you flick over to Dancing With The Stars and tell me if Bristol was eliminated yet?
The Resistence
SC: “Yeah, I’ve been up doing my laundry since midnight and-“
Let me just stop you right there a sec, my friend. It’s 6 in the morning. You’ve been doing laundry all night in the dead of night. For 6 hours. Please understand that absolutely everything else you say from this point on will be held in suspect based on your activities alone. The entire time you are speaking, I will be wondering what set of circumstances and/or mental illnesses led you to this point in your life. Do you manage a soccer team with a flight leaving at 6am? But forgot to wash the uniforms yesterday? Do you just own so many clothes that you can go 2 months without washing anything but need to clean everything for 12 hours once every 60 days? Are dry shirts trying to kill you, and this is the only way can stop them?
Understand my position here. You have said something vaguely crazy. Which is actually worse than saying something utterly crazy. If it was utterly crazy I could just write you off to begin with. But there’s just enough doubt here to make your statement troubling. Because there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation, or even just a whacky set of unfortunate events that led you to this point. But on the other hand, you could have spent the last 6 hours trying to drown the shirt people’s 5th battalion. I don’t know, and there’s really no tactful way for me to inquire. So I must view everything you report from here on through the lens of suspicion.
SC: “My neighbour’s been running his bath water since midnight.”
Well don’t just sit there, man! He’s probably engaged with the shirt people’s 4th battalion and has been struggling desperately all night just like you. You have to save your comrade in arms. It is your duty, soldier. Hurry! The shirt people don’t take prisoners.
Hot Tips
SC: “Do you know what I learned in university?”
Oh god help me. No, but I suppose you’re going to tell me.
SC: “Someone that’s in to the British heritage and the Queen and all that? They’re an Anglophile.”
Fascinating. I assume Prince Charles is about to factor into this somewhere?
SC: “You know Prince Charles is PC and Proud, and he’s also known as Pedophile Charlie.”
Yes, he’s known by that moniker in many circles. All of which are entirely in your head.
SC: “And he’s going to take over the United States with an army of Anglophiles.”
..…Prince Charles is going to take over the US with an army of people who are rather fond of tea? I seem to recall them trying that once before and deciding it really wasn't worth it.
SC: “What do you think about that?”
I think that somewhere in Vancouver there’s a mental health worker at an assisted living facility desperately searching the building for you.
Hot Tips
SC: “Just a little piece of information for you. Read the Friday’s edition of the Ottawa Citizen.”
Because when I’m looking for reading material, you’re the person whose opinion I’ll turn to. Although, I must admit, you have surprisingly mundane literary tastes. I would have expected something more like, say, recommending I read a Dora the Explorer colouring book because it reveals communist patterns in the British monarchy. But the Ottawa Citizen? At least your reading material is relatively normal-
SC: "These cops in Ottawa raped this black woman! And Stephen Harper didn't say ANYTHING about it!"
-scratch that, here comes the twist again.
SC: "It happened in his city, right under his nose and he's not saying anything? Why? Is he in on it?"
Let me see if I have the tally right so far: Prince Charles is a pedophile, Stephen Harper is a rapist and the Queen wanted to pay me to help her grow a beard? Is that about right?
I'd ask what colour the sky is in your world, but I fear the answer would be "Poptart".
Invalid
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “V1…………..Oh God.”
Hmmm, nope. V1O G0D isn’t a valid postal code. Are you sure?
Difficulties
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “It’s V………uh……let me think.”
Go ahead. But, don’t strain yourself.
SC: “…..uh……..can you hold on?”
You strained yourself, didn’t you?
SC: “….uh……just give me a minute…..um…..”
Take your time. I mean, I asked a really complicated question after all. You’re lucky you’re even still standing. Normal people just clutch their heads and fall to the floor twitching after I lay my cruel riddles upon them mid call.
SC: “Uh….V4….something…..um…..hold on.”
Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone?
.......
SC: “It’s hard to talk on the phone! Especially when you’re woman!”
I….er….you know there’s really nothing I can say to that that won’t get me in trouble with at least one member of one gender or the other. So I will plead the 5th.
Argh...
Me: “Good morning, <company tech support>, how may I help you?”
SC: “I’d like to find out whether we can book into a friend’s hotel on Feb 14th.”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, wrong number?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Do you have the right number?”
Me: “I would have no idea.”
Yet again we encounter this particular failure of mental acuity. There is absolutely no reason that I, the wrong number, would be able to tell you the right number for the completely unknown place you meant to call. You are, if you will pardon my French, a fucking idiot for asking and I would fucking amazing if I knew.
SC: “It said to call this number.”
Good for it.
Me: “This is <company tech support>, so I wouldn’t know what you're referring too.”
SC: “Alright, but just so you know you’re giving out this number.”
No, we’re not giving out the number. They are giving out the number incorrectly. Or, as is the far more likely scenario based on established evidence, you misdialed because you are an idiot.
Remember, the simpliest answer is most likely the correct one and you my friend are by far the simpliest answer.
annd rest......for now. ( Tired >.> )
Guidelines
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “C-O-J-O-C-T-O-O-N-O-O-I-C”
Oh! I’m sorry, but that’s too many O’s. Per the new guidelines I put in place last week, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disqualify you from ordering. I know, it sucks. But thems the rules now. It’s not all doom and gloom though. You only need to find some way to compact that…name….into more digestible bits. I mean really, 6 O’s? You don’t need 6 O’s. Surely you can do without at least one or two of them. 4 O’s is pushing it but just barely skirts within the guidelines. But at least you could order then. So really, all you need do is take a deep breath, move forward and put at least two of these O’s behind you.
It will hurt at first. But it's for the best in the long run.
Hot Tips: Tokyo Rose
( This guy has decided to become a regular. )
SC: “My name is Ed. I’m a friend of Darrin K. Heb. Who is the executive assistant to the director of presidential correspondence.”
And I am the Queen-Consort of Palau. We are pleased to make your acquaintance. Note it is customary for visitors to offer a gift to royalty when coming to call. Traditionally, a white feral cat wrapped in tobacco and mint leaves is considered appropriate. But please do not let go of it until after your audience has concluded. It is considered back luck otherwise. It is also considered an ill omen if you bleed on the ground at any point while in our presence.
SC: “I was wondering if you have any nice young secretaries that would like to go out to dinner next week.”
We have many things. And while it is true we could technically facilitate this request, we are the Queen-Consort, not the Queen-Pimp. So we will have to decline.
Me: “…no, no we don’t.”
SC: “Why not?”
Your desperate and honestly almost kind of sad to look upon attempt to grasp some sort of shred of female companionship is of no concern to the US or Palau governments. Please take your quest for vagina elsewhere. Peasent.
Oh For..
SC: “He’s been banging and yelling for help for 5 minutes.”
Me: “Have you called 911?”
SC: “No, should I?”
Sometimes, there is no joke I can make. All I can do is sit here and bang my head into the desk.
Hot Tips: Tokyo Rose
SC: “I’d like to send Nancy Sinatra a nice Christmas gift. Can I send it through you guys?”
We are also not the Queen-Postmaster.
Swiftness
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “No, I want to buy a coat.”
Ahh, a swift one I see. Very well, I shall attempt to lower my verbal communication down to your level. I assume we’ll be working with single syllable words alone? Bare with me here, I haven’t quite pinpointed your level of swiftness yet. It may be a minute before I can come up with an accurate diagnosis. I’m hovering somewhere between “molasses uphill” and “William Shatner on a treadmill” at the moment.
Me: “…so, you’re calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Right, “Betty White in the Amazing Race” it is. Got it. Thanks for waiting.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Sarah”
Hello, Sarah. You know it’s 3 in the morning, right? And that anyone seriously shopping for a coat at this hour probably has much deeper issues in their life they need to be attending too? Not that I’m implying anything of course. I’m just saying.
Me: “And your phone number, please?”
SC: “xxxx-xx-xxx”
Me: “I’m sorry, what was that again?”
SC: “xx....xx.......xxxxxxx”
Me: “xxx-xxxx?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “Alright, what’s the area code for the phone number please?”
SC: “Um…..Sarah.”
Me: “No, what’s your area code please?”
SC: “Manitoba?”
Me: “No, your area code?”
SC: “Area?”
Me: “Yes, area code.”
SC: “<postal code>?”
Me “…no, your area code please? For your phone number? The first three numbers?”
SC: “Oh….uh…..um……….<click>”
Ah, a textbook case of “Oh god I don’t understand, quick! Tell him everything I know! Something might be the right answer!.”. Well, ok your mental voice probably isn’t that coherent and probably slurs. But still, you get the idea. Well, no, you probably don’t I suppose. I’m just talking to myself now anyway. You’re probably hiding behind the couch with the dog.
Friday 1:32am
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “What?!”
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “WHAT?!!”
Me: “I said, are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “One sec, let me turn the TV down.”
No no, please don’t. I quite enjoy having to shout everything and this is a really good episode of Law & Order. Really, I could not paint a more perfect picture of how I’d love to spend an evening then sitting here screaming into my headset only to be periodically interrupted by that “DUN DUN” noise.
Hey, next time it goes to commercial could you flick over to Dancing With The Stars and tell me if Bristol was eliminated yet?
The Resistence
SC: “Yeah, I’ve been up doing my laundry since midnight and-“
Let me just stop you right there a sec, my friend. It’s 6 in the morning. You’ve been doing laundry all night in the dead of night. For 6 hours. Please understand that absolutely everything else you say from this point on will be held in suspect based on your activities alone. The entire time you are speaking, I will be wondering what set of circumstances and/or mental illnesses led you to this point in your life. Do you manage a soccer team with a flight leaving at 6am? But forgot to wash the uniforms yesterday? Do you just own so many clothes that you can go 2 months without washing anything but need to clean everything for 12 hours once every 60 days? Are dry shirts trying to kill you, and this is the only way can stop them?
Understand my position here. You have said something vaguely crazy. Which is actually worse than saying something utterly crazy. If it was utterly crazy I could just write you off to begin with. But there’s just enough doubt here to make your statement troubling. Because there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation, or even just a whacky set of unfortunate events that led you to this point. But on the other hand, you could have spent the last 6 hours trying to drown the shirt people’s 5th battalion. I don’t know, and there’s really no tactful way for me to inquire. So I must view everything you report from here on through the lens of suspicion.
SC: “My neighbour’s been running his bath water since midnight.”
Well don’t just sit there, man! He’s probably engaged with the shirt people’s 4th battalion and has been struggling desperately all night just like you. You have to save your comrade in arms. It is your duty, soldier. Hurry! The shirt people don’t take prisoners.
Hot Tips
SC: “Do you know what I learned in university?”
Oh god help me. No, but I suppose you’re going to tell me.
SC: “Someone that’s in to the British heritage and the Queen and all that? They’re an Anglophile.”
Fascinating. I assume Prince Charles is about to factor into this somewhere?
SC: “You know Prince Charles is PC and Proud, and he’s also known as Pedophile Charlie.”
Yes, he’s known by that moniker in many circles. All of which are entirely in your head.
SC: “And he’s going to take over the United States with an army of Anglophiles.”
..…Prince Charles is going to take over the US with an army of people who are rather fond of tea? I seem to recall them trying that once before and deciding it really wasn't worth it.
SC: “What do you think about that?”
I think that somewhere in Vancouver there’s a mental health worker at an assisted living facility desperately searching the building for you.
Hot Tips
SC: “Just a little piece of information for you. Read the Friday’s edition of the Ottawa Citizen.”
Because when I’m looking for reading material, you’re the person whose opinion I’ll turn to. Although, I must admit, you have surprisingly mundane literary tastes. I would have expected something more like, say, recommending I read a Dora the Explorer colouring book because it reveals communist patterns in the British monarchy. But the Ottawa Citizen? At least your reading material is relatively normal-
SC: "These cops in Ottawa raped this black woman! And Stephen Harper didn't say ANYTHING about it!"
-scratch that, here comes the twist again.
SC: "It happened in his city, right under his nose and he's not saying anything? Why? Is he in on it?"
Let me see if I have the tally right so far: Prince Charles is a pedophile, Stephen Harper is a rapist and the Queen wanted to pay me to help her grow a beard? Is that about right?
I'd ask what colour the sky is in your world, but I fear the answer would be "Poptart".
Invalid
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “V1…………..Oh God.”
Hmmm, nope. V1O G0D isn’t a valid postal code. Are you sure?
Difficulties
Me: “And your postal code please?”
SC: “It’s V………uh……let me think.”
Go ahead. But, don’t strain yourself.
SC: “…..uh……..can you hold on?”
You strained yourself, didn’t you?
SC: “….uh……just give me a minute…..um…..”
Take your time. I mean, I asked a really complicated question after all. You’re lucky you’re even still standing. Normal people just clutch their heads and fall to the floor twitching after I lay my cruel riddles upon them mid call.
SC: “Uh….V4….something…..um…..hold on.”
Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone?
.......
SC: “It’s hard to talk on the phone! Especially when you’re woman!”
I….er….you know there’s really nothing I can say to that that won’t get me in trouble with at least one member of one gender or the other. So I will plead the 5th.
Argh...
Me: “Good morning, <company tech support>, how may I help you?”
SC: “I’d like to find out whether we can book into a friend’s hotel on Feb 14th.”
Me: “You have the wrong number.”
SC: “Oh, wrong number?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Do you have the right number?”
Me: “I would have no idea.”
Yet again we encounter this particular failure of mental acuity. There is absolutely no reason that I, the wrong number, would be able to tell you the right number for the completely unknown place you meant to call. You are, if you will pardon my French, a fucking idiot for asking and I would fucking amazing if I knew.
SC: “It said to call this number.”
Good for it.
Me: “This is <company tech support>, so I wouldn’t know what you're referring too.”
SC: “Alright, but just so you know you’re giving out this number.”
No, we’re not giving out the number. They are giving out the number incorrectly. Or, as is the far more likely scenario based on established evidence, you misdialed because you are an idiot.
Remember, the simpliest answer is most likely the correct one and you my friend are by far the simpliest answer.
annd rest......for now. ( Tired >.> )
)
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