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The Depths of Apathy
I'm not dead, just....asleep. >.>
Last week was rather bad I must admit. Actually...really bad now that I look back. This isn't going to be pretty...
Technology
SC: “I recently changed my Internet number and I just wanted to update it with you.”
Your…..”Internet number” you say? The geek in my immediately thinks “IP Address”, but the CSR in me immediately thinks “Haha, you think he actually knows what an IP Address is?”. So I’m going to assume that perhaps you mean your email address. Though I have no idea how you managed to cross the gaping crevasse from “email” to “Internet number”. But really, after this many years working this shift I should know better then to bother asking anymore. I’m at the point where I automatically assume every caller on my shift has the mental capabilities of toast until they prove otherwise. Not good toast from bakery fresh bread either. But rather that one loaf of $5 Wonderbread at 7/11 that’s been on the shelf longer than Obama’s been in office. Just in case the clerk needs a makeshift weapon to bludgeon a would be robber.
Storytime!
SC: “Oh, gosh are you open?”
Me: “I'm the afterhours emergency, the office itself is closed.”
This may sound like an odd question, but just humour me a moment: Why did you call if you thought we were closed?
SC: “I was just on the bus and uh, I spoke to a fellow and he gave me this number. I asked him, I said you know what, I wouldn’t mind doing your kind of work. I’m 42 and I got married in the Thailand, I wasn’t expecting to have a child also. Oh boy, I really, I gotta find a job, I worked at Best Buy for 5 years and what happened there-“
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up there. You seem to be laboring under the tragic mistake that I in any way care about your life, health or wellbeing. I have absolutely no idea why you’re telling me all this and you’ll find that our supplies of Sympathy and Pity are actually put back in the storage room at 10pm. They won’t be taken out again till the morning staff gets here. So I’m afraid I have none to offer you. They only thing that gets left out for me at night is several boxes of Disdain and I have to go easy on them to make them last the whole shift.
Me: “Alright, I’m the afterhours, so-“
SC: “Oh, right, if I phone back, how do I apply for a job?”
Me: “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, you’ll have to speak to the office in the morning.”
SC: “But later in the morning I could phone this number?”
Me: "Yes:
You do whatever it is you want to do, just stop talking and get off my line. Oh, right. Whoops, where are my manners? Thank you for calling and get off my line, please.
SC: “The guy told me they’re hiring, oh boy, that sounds good. I don’t wanna work 3 hours a day you know. But I’ll take anything you know.”
Me: “...Yes, I would just give them a call back in the morning and ask then.”
SC: “Yeah, I’ll give them a call back in the morning. I’ve been here for about a year without doing nothing. My VISA’s are just climbing up and I don’t want to lose my credit-”
I. Don’t. Care. I believe I explained my purpose and function here already. At no point did I use the words “counseling” or “therapy”. The kind of assistance you seem to be mistakenly craving from me is well above my pay grade. It doesn’t matter how long you spin this tale of woe and guilt, you will not pierce my apathy sphere to reach the cold, dark heart within. Many have come before you, and they have all crashed their waves of self pity on my unfeeling shoreline. Knowledge of my existence is the leading cause of low self-esteem amongst Carebears villains.
I know callers such as yourself rarely listen to the recorded message before getting through to a live operator. But if you’d paid attention you would have heard the “Abandon all hope, ye who dial here” part. It’s right after it asks you to press 1 for English or 2 for French.
Darwin Award
SC: “I can smell fumes from the furnace. I think its leaking gas.”
Me: “Have you turned the furnace off?”
SC: “No, it’s too cold out.”
……really? In the choice between “Inhaling gas while slowly building up an explosive death chamber” vs “Put on a sweater” you went with the exposive option? Me thinks it’s time for you to be introduced to the term “Darwinism” and learn how its surely looming over several aspects of your life.
You Did What?
Now, just judging from your company's website, you're a diverse group of people with a background of excellence in law enforcement. Motivated individuals dedicated to bringing you piece of mind with their excellence and professionalism. Truly, a crack team of integrated security and monitoring that will let you rest easy at night. Knowing you and your business are safe and secure. If such highly skilled individuals as yourselves are calling me, it must mean one of your keen eyed security teams has spotted something out of place and like a bloodhound with 3 cans of Red Bull in him, have glued themselves to the mystery with wide eyed intent. Alerting their handlers of any possible trace of the criminal element they can sniff out.
Oh, what’s that? Two members of your elite security patrol units have somehow managed to lock themselves out of one of our properties? …….on a balcony? …..on the 7th floor? …..and now they’re stuck up there until morning unless someone comes down to let them back in? But…how did they even….I mean…..that’s just…..no, no, don’t tell me. This is the kind of scenario only an elite security patrol dedicated to excellence and professionalism could get themselves into. The average civilian such as myself probably couldn’t comprehend the dazzling array of expertise required to get oneself into such a predicament.
( And yes the property manager suggested just leaving them there all night when I called him -.- ).
What?
SC: “I just had Prostate Resurrection Surgery and now I'm-“
Wait wait wait, stop right there a minute…..Prostate Resurrection Surgery? …..Are you sure that’s what the procedure was called? Please think hard and try to remember, it’s very important. While it’s not stated publically anywhere, we have a zero tolerance policy for necromancy. If one of our clients is a practicing necromancer we need to know immediately. Zombie’s are not a joke you know. We’ll need to terminate their account and take the necessary precautions to increase our staffing levels for the inevitable rise in call volume a mindless horde of shuffling husks would bring us.
Yeah, That'll Work
SC: “Yeah, can you page <office member> for me?”
Me: "I'm afraid she's not on duty this evening, so I can't page her for you. You'll have to call back in the morning when she's back in the office."
SC: "It's really urgent! I need to talk to her!"
Me: "If it's an emergency, I can page the on duty person for you."
SC: "No, I need to talk to her!"
Me: "She's not on duty."
SC: “Well I’m just going to stay on the line till you page her for me!”
….really? That’s your cunning plan? You do realize your entire threat hinges around me being willing to sit here in awkward silence with you while you metaphorically hold your breath, right? I believe I have already clarified the leveling of caring I am willing to dispense at this hour.
( He ended up calling back 4 more times over the next 15 minutes due to my...er....let's say unwillingness to stay on the line with him. )
Sigh
Me: “Do have an account number with us?”
SC: “No, but I have an account number.”
Oh, well, that’s even better! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? If I’d known you had an account number I never would have asked for an account number. I mean come on. There’s just no comparison.
I'm Not That Kind Of Operator!! <sob>
Me: “Can I help you?”
SC: “What?”
Me: “Can I help you?”
SC: “Slower, please.”
I’m not exactly speaking fast to begin with, but very well. I shall decelerate my verbal communication in the hopes you can better process my inquiries. But only because you asked nicely.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Slower”
Me: “And…your…name…please?”
SC: “Say it slooower.”
……..I’m beginning to suspect you have an ulterior motive here that’s completely unrelated to your hearing abilities. I feel the need to once again remind you that I am not that kind of operator. Despite the unsettlingly constant wishes to the contrary I’ve been encountering on a weekly basis.
I'm So Sorry
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Puppy.”
Me: “How do you spell that, please?”
SC: “P-U-P-P-Y”
You sir, have my sincerest condolences on what I can only imagine was a most traumatic childhood.
Revealing
Me: “Alright, and what was the email address?”
SC: “BigDyke69 at <domain>”
I’m impressed you gave that out, without a little voice in the back of your head going: “Hey! Uh, maybe we shouldn’t be giving out this particular email to a complete stranger and his entire company. As it probably reveals a tad more about our personal life then we really should be sharing.”
What? No.
Me: "Good evening, <blatantly a computer related company>"
SC: “Do you sell tiramisu?”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “Do you sell tiramisu pudding?”
Me: “….No.”
SC: “Are you sure?”
Me: “Quite sure, yes.”
That’s not really the sort of thing you could make a mistake about. I think I’d know damn well whether or not I sold pudding. Especially tiramisu. As I would be sampling my wares as we speak if that were case. Still, that is a rather bizarre follow up question on your end there. Granted, the entire idea of calling around to order pudding over the phone at 2am is somewhat bizarre to begin with. Never mind actually persisting with your line of questioning.
It’s not like an hour from now I’m going to glance in my desk drawer and discover that yes, yes we do in fact sell pudding. In fact, now that I glance we do in fact sell pens, mouse pads and assorted coloured markers if you’re interested. There also appears to be one large Caramilk bar up for grabs.
Thanks.
Thank you for calling us at 6:28am to advise that one of our client's company vans will get towed if it’s not moved before 6:30am. Your quick thinking has surely averted disaster.
Hot Tips
SC: “My name is Vick.”
Sigh, hello Vick. What now?
SC: “I remember back in 1979.”
Oh shut up. No you don’t, you weren’t even born yet. You barely sound old enough to drink legally.
SC: “It was during the Iranian revolution.”
Any memories you think you have of actually being there are a combination of watching CNN while under the effects of heavy narcotics. Unless you’re some sort of time traveler. Wait, don’t answer that. You probably think you're hurdling through time and space on your Meth TARDIS as we speak.
Dubious Awards
Congratulations! You win this week’s “Longest after a sales deadline someone asked about getting in on the sales deadline” award at almost a full 24 hours after the fact! This highly coveted award comes with a grand prize of absolutely nothing, and the secure knowledge that I will keep you in my thoughts for at least the next 5 minutes as I pity you for your tragically skewed sense of time.
Nekomimi Mode
Attention men of Vancouver. Especially weird, skizzy lanky ones on public transit in scruffy leather jackets: There is only a remarkably narrow band of people that can get away with wearing a hoodie or toque with cat ears on it. Largely consisting of young Japanese girls and the occasional sports team mascot. You are neither. Please take those off. You are terrifying all present and we're all staring at you because we half expect you to either break into song for a hidden camera we're unaware of, or sexually assault a fellow transit rider.
Annd....er.....ok I've already had enough rest.
Last week was rather bad I must admit. Actually...really bad now that I look back. This isn't going to be pretty...
Technology
SC: “I recently changed my Internet number and I just wanted to update it with you.”
Your…..”Internet number” you say? The geek in my immediately thinks “IP Address”, but the CSR in me immediately thinks “Haha, you think he actually knows what an IP Address is?”. So I’m going to assume that perhaps you mean your email address. Though I have no idea how you managed to cross the gaping crevasse from “email” to “Internet number”. But really, after this many years working this shift I should know better then to bother asking anymore. I’m at the point where I automatically assume every caller on my shift has the mental capabilities of toast until they prove otherwise. Not good toast from bakery fresh bread either. But rather that one loaf of $5 Wonderbread at 7/11 that’s been on the shelf longer than Obama’s been in office. Just in case the clerk needs a makeshift weapon to bludgeon a would be robber.
Storytime!
SC: “Oh, gosh are you open?”
Me: “I'm the afterhours emergency, the office itself is closed.”
This may sound like an odd question, but just humour me a moment: Why did you call if you thought we were closed?
SC: “I was just on the bus and uh, I spoke to a fellow and he gave me this number. I asked him, I said you know what, I wouldn’t mind doing your kind of work. I’m 42 and I got married in the Thailand, I wasn’t expecting to have a child also. Oh boy, I really, I gotta find a job, I worked at Best Buy for 5 years and what happened there-“
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up there. You seem to be laboring under the tragic mistake that I in any way care about your life, health or wellbeing. I have absolutely no idea why you’re telling me all this and you’ll find that our supplies of Sympathy and Pity are actually put back in the storage room at 10pm. They won’t be taken out again till the morning staff gets here. So I’m afraid I have none to offer you. They only thing that gets left out for me at night is several boxes of Disdain and I have to go easy on them to make them last the whole shift.
Me: “Alright, I’m the afterhours, so-“
SC: “Oh, right, if I phone back, how do I apply for a job?”
Me: “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, you’ll have to speak to the office in the morning.”
SC: “But later in the morning I could phone this number?”
Me: "Yes:
You do whatever it is you want to do, just stop talking and get off my line. Oh, right. Whoops, where are my manners? Thank you for calling and get off my line, please.
SC: “The guy told me they’re hiring, oh boy, that sounds good. I don’t wanna work 3 hours a day you know. But I’ll take anything you know.”
Me: “...Yes, I would just give them a call back in the morning and ask then.”
SC: “Yeah, I’ll give them a call back in the morning. I’ve been here for about a year without doing nothing. My VISA’s are just climbing up and I don’t want to lose my credit-”
I. Don’t. Care. I believe I explained my purpose and function here already. At no point did I use the words “counseling” or “therapy”. The kind of assistance you seem to be mistakenly craving from me is well above my pay grade. It doesn’t matter how long you spin this tale of woe and guilt, you will not pierce my apathy sphere to reach the cold, dark heart within. Many have come before you, and they have all crashed their waves of self pity on my unfeeling shoreline. Knowledge of my existence is the leading cause of low self-esteem amongst Carebears villains.
I know callers such as yourself rarely listen to the recorded message before getting through to a live operator. But if you’d paid attention you would have heard the “Abandon all hope, ye who dial here” part. It’s right after it asks you to press 1 for English or 2 for French.
Darwin Award
SC: “I can smell fumes from the furnace. I think its leaking gas.”
Me: “Have you turned the furnace off?”
SC: “No, it’s too cold out.”
……really? In the choice between “Inhaling gas while slowly building up an explosive death chamber” vs “Put on a sweater” you went with the exposive option? Me thinks it’s time for you to be introduced to the term “Darwinism” and learn how its surely looming over several aspects of your life.
You Did What?
Now, just judging from your company's website, you're a diverse group of people with a background of excellence in law enforcement. Motivated individuals dedicated to bringing you piece of mind with their excellence and professionalism. Truly, a crack team of integrated security and monitoring that will let you rest easy at night. Knowing you and your business are safe and secure. If such highly skilled individuals as yourselves are calling me, it must mean one of your keen eyed security teams has spotted something out of place and like a bloodhound with 3 cans of Red Bull in him, have glued themselves to the mystery with wide eyed intent. Alerting their handlers of any possible trace of the criminal element they can sniff out.
Oh, what’s that? Two members of your elite security patrol units have somehow managed to lock themselves out of one of our properties? …….on a balcony? …..on the 7th floor? …..and now they’re stuck up there until morning unless someone comes down to let them back in? But…how did they even….I mean…..that’s just…..no, no, don’t tell me. This is the kind of scenario only an elite security patrol dedicated to excellence and professionalism could get themselves into. The average civilian such as myself probably couldn’t comprehend the dazzling array of expertise required to get oneself into such a predicament.
( And yes the property manager suggested just leaving them there all night when I called him -.- ).
What?
SC: “I just had Prostate Resurrection Surgery and now I'm-“
Wait wait wait, stop right there a minute…..Prostate Resurrection Surgery? …..Are you sure that’s what the procedure was called? Please think hard and try to remember, it’s very important. While it’s not stated publically anywhere, we have a zero tolerance policy for necromancy. If one of our clients is a practicing necromancer we need to know immediately. Zombie’s are not a joke you know. We’ll need to terminate their account and take the necessary precautions to increase our staffing levels for the inevitable rise in call volume a mindless horde of shuffling husks would bring us.
Yeah, That'll Work
SC: “Yeah, can you page <office member> for me?”
Me: "I'm afraid she's not on duty this evening, so I can't page her for you. You'll have to call back in the morning when she's back in the office."
SC: "It's really urgent! I need to talk to her!"
Me: "If it's an emergency, I can page the on duty person for you."
SC: "No, I need to talk to her!"
Me: "She's not on duty."
SC: “Well I’m just going to stay on the line till you page her for me!”
….really? That’s your cunning plan? You do realize your entire threat hinges around me being willing to sit here in awkward silence with you while you metaphorically hold your breath, right? I believe I have already clarified the leveling of caring I am willing to dispense at this hour.
( He ended up calling back 4 more times over the next 15 minutes due to my...er....let's say unwillingness to stay on the line with him. )
Sigh
Me: “Do have an account number with us?”
SC: “No, but I have an account number.”
Oh, well, that’s even better! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? If I’d known you had an account number I never would have asked for an account number. I mean come on. There’s just no comparison.
I'm Not That Kind Of Operator!! <sob>
Me: “Can I help you?”
SC: “What?”
Me: “Can I help you?”
SC: “Slower, please.”
I’m not exactly speaking fast to begin with, but very well. I shall decelerate my verbal communication in the hopes you can better process my inquiries. But only because you asked nicely.
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Slower”
Me: “And…your…name…please?”
SC: “Say it slooower.”
……..I’m beginning to suspect you have an ulterior motive here that’s completely unrelated to your hearing abilities. I feel the need to once again remind you that I am not that kind of operator. Despite the unsettlingly constant wishes to the contrary I’ve been encountering on a weekly basis.
I'm So Sorry
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Puppy.”
Me: “How do you spell that, please?”
SC: “P-U-P-P-Y”
You sir, have my sincerest condolences on what I can only imagine was a most traumatic childhood.
Revealing
Me: “Alright, and what was the email address?”
SC: “BigDyke69 at <domain>”
I’m impressed you gave that out, without a little voice in the back of your head going: “Hey! Uh, maybe we shouldn’t be giving out this particular email to a complete stranger and his entire company. As it probably reveals a tad more about our personal life then we really should be sharing.”
What? No.
Me: "Good evening, <blatantly a computer related company>"
SC: “Do you sell tiramisu?”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “Do you sell tiramisu pudding?”
Me: “….No.”
SC: “Are you sure?”
Me: “Quite sure, yes.”
That’s not really the sort of thing you could make a mistake about. I think I’d know damn well whether or not I sold pudding. Especially tiramisu. As I would be sampling my wares as we speak if that were case. Still, that is a rather bizarre follow up question on your end there. Granted, the entire idea of calling around to order pudding over the phone at 2am is somewhat bizarre to begin with. Never mind actually persisting with your line of questioning.
It’s not like an hour from now I’m going to glance in my desk drawer and discover that yes, yes we do in fact sell pudding. In fact, now that I glance we do in fact sell pens, mouse pads and assorted coloured markers if you’re interested. There also appears to be one large Caramilk bar up for grabs.
Thanks.
Thank you for calling us at 6:28am to advise that one of our client's company vans will get towed if it’s not moved before 6:30am. Your quick thinking has surely averted disaster.
Hot Tips
SC: “My name is Vick.”
Sigh, hello Vick. What now?
SC: “I remember back in 1979.”
Oh shut up. No you don’t, you weren’t even born yet. You barely sound old enough to drink legally.
SC: “It was during the Iranian revolution.”
Any memories you think you have of actually being there are a combination of watching CNN while under the effects of heavy narcotics. Unless you’re some sort of time traveler. Wait, don’t answer that. You probably think you're hurdling through time and space on your Meth TARDIS as we speak.
Dubious Awards
Congratulations! You win this week’s “Longest after a sales deadline someone asked about getting in on the sales deadline” award at almost a full 24 hours after the fact! This highly coveted award comes with a grand prize of absolutely nothing, and the secure knowledge that I will keep you in my thoughts for at least the next 5 minutes as I pity you for your tragically skewed sense of time.
Nekomimi Mode
Attention men of Vancouver. Especially weird, skizzy lanky ones on public transit in scruffy leather jackets: There is only a remarkably narrow band of people that can get away with wearing a hoodie or toque with cat ears on it. Largely consisting of young Japanese girls and the occasional sports team mascot. You are neither. Please take those off. You are terrifying all present and we're all staring at you because we half expect you to either break into song for a hidden camera we're unaware of, or sexually assault a fellow transit rider.
Annd....er.....ok I've already had enough rest.
He is my Black Dragon (and yes, a good one) strong, protective, the guardian. I am his Silver Dragon, always by his side, shining for him, cherishing him.
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