Tweet
Wherein We Explore Alternative Means Of Opening A Door
The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club.
No Problem, I'll Just Wait Right Here
SC: “Can you tell me your website? So I can check and tell you exactly what I want to order.”
Hah! Such meager things are well within my vast, limitless power. Very well, peasant, I shall grant you this boon. But only this once! For I feel generous this evening. Your peculiar voice has led me to mentally picture a man with a strangely shaped head, much to my amusement. So I will give you this pittance as thanks for the inadvertent mirth your existence brings me.
SC: “Are you busy? Can you wait and I will choose which I want to order?”
Me: “I can’t stay on the line too long, how long do you need?”
SC: “Maybe 5 minutes?”
Hah! Ahhhh, you do indeed provide me with mirth. Though once again, it is completely inadvertent. You think that I, the dark master of this nocturnal domain, lord over all I see ( Temporarily, sort of, ok really just my desk and even then ) am going to sit here in silence for 5+ minutes whilst you indecisively browse the website? Probably in your underwear? I think not! For you see, with my limitless power and wisdom I can predict exactly how this will unfold: You will take upwards of 10-15 minutes to decide all the while asking me foolish questions, seeking opinions and reassurances I cannot give you on matters of the personal tastes of whomever you're shopping for.
Untamed Credit
Me: “And the card number please?”
SC: “Oh wait, I’m running to it.”
Ah, yes, they are rather fast ones, aren’t they? Why, in the wild, a Visa card can easily hit 80 km/h across the Serengeti. It’s no wonder you’re having trouble catching yours. The thing to remember though is that they don’t have a lot of stamina. You can run them down if you keep after them. You’ve got to wear them out. Be careful though, they’ll try and zig zag to throw you off. Make you trip up. If you can, chase it into a smaller room where it doesn’t have much space to maneuver. Then it’s only a matter of time before you can get close enough for a mortal strike.
Try to latch onto the throat if you can.
5 Minutes
SC: “I just wanna make an order.”
5 minutes. I believe that was your astute estimate of the time it would take you to come to a decision. You informed me of your delusional and overtly optimistic estimate 25 minutes ago. You have a remarkably skewed sense of time, peasant. We are most displeased, but at the same time thankful we did not have to endure the 25 minutes in question along with you.
Me: “And what message would you like on the card?”
SC: “I love you.”
I am flattered, peasant, but there are many who grovel before my likeness in adoration an-oh, you mean on the card? Right. Sorry.
SC: “Can you make it more literary? Like, make it more dramatic for me?”
You want me to pen loving poetry to your wife for you? I think not. What are you even doing ordering flowers at 1 in the morning anyhow? Let along trying to convince moi to enrapture your wife for you? You did something wrong, didn’t you? Really, really wrong. Like “Anniversary at Wendy’s” wrong or "Naked with the dog and a jar of peanut butter" wrong. ( In the latter case I recommend at least a dozen roses ).
Me: “And the card number, please?”
SC: “I wanna change my order-“
…after you have already greedily consumed 15 minutes of my time you wish to go straight back to the beginning? I find myself slowly coming to the realization that the biggest regret I have in life is that I cannot choke people remotely with the Force.
You Waited For That?
SC: “Yeah, I was on hold so long I just went ahead and placed the order online anyway.”
Well…er…I…guess I appreciate that you continued to wait on hold just so you could rub that in my face. Thank you. Why did you just place it online to begin with? That would have been easier, faster, and more appropriate at 3 in the god damn morning then picking up the phone.
Of Course!
SC: “I don’t know her address, if I give you her phone number can you call her and get the address from her? Don't tell her who you are though, this is suppose to be a surprise.”
Of course! No problem! Because that’s not at all creepy. Hey, we’d totally like to deliver....something.....to you from some random dude that called us but he doesn’t know where you live……yet. Would you mind telling us? Who are we? Oh, nobody in particular. Oh hey, did you want me to write her loving poetry on the card on your behalf as well? Apparently that’s a service I should be providing. Maybe something really romantic like “I AM ALWAYS WATCHING”.
I Was Hoping You Did
Me: “And your number there, please?”
SC: “Oh good God, who knows?”
Well, to be honest, I was rather hoping you did seeing as you’re the one calling from it. But once again it appears I have set my expectations for callers just a tad too high. My apologies. In the future I will endeavor to hold out absolutely no hope that any of you can formulate a response to even the most basic of questions. Once again, I am sorry. I have clearly set a standard you cannot possibly hope to live up too. Thus irreparably damaging your self esteem and shattering what little confidence you had in life. There is nothing left for you now but a downward spiral into depression and heavy Kool-Aid abuse.
That's Not How This Works
Me: “By credit card or COD?
SC: “Uhhh, I have to put money to the card first.”
Me: “Did you want it by COD then?”
SC: “Nope.”
You…do realize those are the only two possibilities, right? I do not have any other methods by which you may exchange currency for pants. Dare I ask what method you wish to employ?
Me: “……then how would you like to pay for it?”
SC: “I’ll pay for it in the morning”
…..Right, ok. Look, I realize that the outskirts of your village constitute the entire world to you. However, I regret to inform you that out here in the actual real world, “Oh, yeah I’ll totally pay fer it later, trust me” isn’t an acceptable form of payment. It only works within the confines of your village because the owner of the only store for 500kms is your uncle and/or cousin and/or boyfriend.
Unless, of course, have a bushel of grain and a goat? In which case perhaps we can work something out.
Maybe?
SC: “Do you think a size 12 for those shoes would fit a 2 year old?”
Not unless he’s father’s a sasquatch, no. Though I will concede when you get that far north such a thing becomes a distinct possibility. So, maybe?
Clever
Me: “Was there any time of day you would like them to call?”
SC: “When I’m home.”
Ah, right. I’m sorry, but my information form here doesn’t seem to have a checkbox for “Caller requested a representative with psionic abilities”. Would a normal, mundane human rep be alright? If you like I can ask him to pretend to be a leprechaun or something for you? You know, spice it up a little. You obviously have some rather elaborate expectations, I’m sure we can find something in the land of immaaaaagination that would work for you.
Faux Pas
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “What number are you going to call me on?”
Which….ever….one you give me? Hence the question? I must have missed something here, Bob. You clearly believe that I, and perhaps everyone, should already be aware of your phone numbers and thus be able to make a selection. Without having to openly inquire about them. Now, you will have to forgive me, as I tend to slumber during the day. So I may have missed the news that you had recently been crowned emperor of Earth and all were expected to know the numbers by which you can be reached. My failure to do so, even if out of ignorance, has likely doomed me to a lifetime in the salt mines for my transgression against your eminence.
Locked Out? No Problem!
I find that once again I must clarify that this is not an all encompassing emergency line. This is only for property management emergencies. You know, things like say, a water leak or a noise complaint. Things that reside within the realm of building maintenance. So if, for example, your drunken neighbour has locked his drunken wife out of the suite, and she is now trying to stab her way back into her own suite with a hammer and a steak knife, that’s just not something we can help you with. That’s a situation that calls for someone with access to a tazer and a baton. Such a police officer or, depending on how intoxicated she is, possibly animal control.
Either way, it’s not really our area of expertise.
Big Words
Me: “And which colour would you like?”
SC: “Polar…poolar…poolareesed?”
Me: “Polarized.”
SC: “Yeah!”
Please select products that you can actually pronounce. Preferably single syllables that you can safely handle such as “Red pants” or “Black hat” or “Brown foot things”.
“And which colour would you like?”
“I-reee....ree.....day-um.....Ree-dam....."
"Iridium."
"Yeah
Please, heed my warnings. These calls would go much faster if you didn’t attempt anything above a grade 2 reading level. I appreciate that you’re trying, but you’re just aiming far too high given your current capabilities.
Know your limit, read within it.
Dedication To The Craft
( This guy was on hold for near 10 minutes due to a problem caller I was having )
SC: “Oh my goodness sir! I have been waiting for I don’t know how long!”
Indeed! I am actually quite impressed you waited on hold that long just for a prank call. You must truly be an artist to devote yourself so to the craft.
SC: “My toilet, it would not flush and it is starting to clog up! I am very worried that my wife or children will notice, for I may have been doing something that does not need to be mentioned!”
Wink wink, nudge nudge. Say no more, say no more.
SC: “I need a step by step through for what to do! All I have is a plunger and some tools!”
Me: “I’m afraid I am the dispatch service, I am not a tech myself. Do you need me to page one for you?”
SC: “…..Uh……”
I sense I have deviated from the script you planned out in your head.
SC: “I do not know what that is sir! This is the first time I have called one of these numbers!”
Do you need a moment to think up something new? I mean, you’re really giving this your all. It would be a shame to let it all go to waste now. Come on man, you're a professional, improvise!
SC: “Explain to me what that is!”
Me: “I am a dispatch service, do you require immediate service? Do you need someone to come to your home?”
SC: “….uh…..It’s not, it’s just....uh......um.....that is clogged. It, uh, it just the....inside the toilet. Do you know what I should do to solve that problem?”
I admire that you’re trying to stick with the script, but I fear I have already adlibbed far too much for us to recovery the scene now. You’re going to have to think of something else. Quickly! The audience is starting to wonder what’s going on.
Me: “I cannot walk you through this, I am not a technician myself.”
SC: “What can I do with my plunger and/or wrenches?”
I can think of several things you can do with your plunger and/or wrenches but elaborating would likely end my employment.
Me: “As I said, I am not a technician, I cannot assist you in this matter.”
SC: “Well, that was a waste of my time and your time sir!”
Me: “Indeed it was, sir!
SC: “I am deeply disappointed, sir, and will hang up with glee!”
Me: "I look forward to that, sir, also with glee!"
You gotta give him credit for riding it out till the bitter end regardless.
It's Called Afterhours
Me: “Minimum call out is $200 plus material.”
SC: “Holy cow! How come it’s so expensive?”
Would you get out of bed in the middle of the night and drive down town to spend several hours fixing someone else's shit for anything less than $200?
SC: “Why $200?”
Me: “That is the minimum call out fee, because we’re afterhours at the moment.”
SC: “Do you know somebody that’s cheaper than that?”
You….want me to recommend another company? I must have misheard that. Did you seriously ask me if I could recommend a competitor? That’s….not exactly what I would classify as good business sense. Nor is you asking that question what I would classify as good common sense. You don’t seriously expect me to tell you to go to a competitor, do you?
Me: “I’m afraid I could not recommend another company. For obvious reasons.”
SC: “Well thanks, you’re a very nice guy. Thank you very much. <click>”
And now you’re getting sarcastic with me because I wouldn’t recommend a competing business? Really? Hey, I know. You run a restaurant downtown right? Awesome. Hey, can you recommend another restaurant that’s better than yours? I don’t really want to have to go to yours if I don’t have too ( The owner’s kind of a dick ). But obviously you must know if there’s another restaurant around that’s better, right?
Now, per requests, I'll reprise last week's post for those that missed it:
Payment Options
Me: “Alright, and which credit card would you like to use?”
SC: “Oh, I’ll use my community card.”
Me: “Your what, sorry?
SC: “Community card”
Me: “Is that a Visa or Mastercard or?”
SC: “Oooh, you want one of those credit cards.”
Yes, one of those credit cards. I know, sorry, they’re kind of obscure so not a lot of people really know about them. I mean you can barely find anywhere that accepts them. I don’t even know why we do for that matter. It’s not like anyone actually has a Visa or Mastercard. Seriously, we should just go back to our original payment options: Bartering for grain and livestock. Oh, you laugh now, but let me tell you, you bring us a bushel of grain and a goat and by god you’ve got yourself some pants.
Hot Tips
SC: “Oh, I meant to phone a different number, but while I’ve got you on the phone here I would like to say that a Mrs has been hurting my fertility with a person nicknamed Vinny.”
…..Alright then. I would just like to take a moment to say that I appreciate that you are so dedicated to your craft that even when you phone us by accident you still make sure to have a fresh carton of crazy ready to go just in case. It’s that little bit of effort to go the extra mile that truly elevates you above all other challengers.
Good Times
Despite your impression, I assure you I really do want to take a message for you. Honest! However, the message you are trying to leave with me is that someone is calling in sick…..buuuuut you don’t actually know who. You know what his name sounds like. Part of it anyway. You don’t actually know his full name, or how to spell it, or where he works or what time he’s suppose to work at. In fact you confessed that you’d never even met the man you’re supposedly calling for. Which raises a whole host of interesting questions by itself. How exactly did you come across this particular message if you have never met the guy you’re professing to pass along the message of? Did he stuff it in a bottle and hurdle it out his window in lieu of calling himself? Just hoping some kindly passerby would notice and call in sick for him? Did he send you smoke signals? Did you see a vision?
Whatever the method, you stubbornly refused to give me even the slightest hint about him or yourself with which I might unravel this mystery. As if you viewed me as some sort of diabolical Soviet interrogator to your charming, American spy. I would ask you where the microfilm was, you’d refuse to answer and crack a joke. I would pretend to laugh for a moment then suddenly stop. Then I would slap you before adjusting my monocle and calling you a capitalist pig dog. You'd spit out a tooth then tell me I hit like a girl. Your false bravado would continue right up until I had an underling wire the car battery to your nipples.
Good times, good times.
Operation Indifference
I was inadvertently and unwilling launched into the forefront of a sting operation this evening. Which, if I do say so myself, has to qualify as going above and beyond in our customer service. As last I checked “Doing battle with criminal scum” wasn’t on our list of advertised services ( Though it totally should be ).
It all began innocently with a call from a tenant from a tenant, who was locked out of his suite. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. However, when I called the manager, he informed me that this particular tenant had a warrant out for his arrest and they were just waiting for him to try and come back to this place. So that they might spring their cunning trap upon him. However, this revelation put me into the forefront of this particular sting operation. Because hey, guess who has to talk to him and convince him to stay put so the police can get there in time? Me! The manager wanted no part of it and informed me not to call him about if he called again, but try to keep him there. So it was all upon moi to ensure the criminal mastermind was kept in place while the drag net tightens around him.
….Buuuuuuut unfortunately, the police appear to take a rather leisurely approach to these sorts of things. Meaning I had to weave a intricate web of deception over the course of several calls as he wondered why it was taking so long with increasing levels of desperation and suspicion. This ended up going on for over 3 hours with no sign of the calvary. 3 hours! Before the dejected quarry finally gave up and left. Waltzing back out of the trap entirely by virtue of boredom. So just to review: Wanted criminal, shows up where they were waiting for him, police are called, but it takes them so long to respond the suspect gets bored and wanders away.
The VPD is truly a well oiled machine.
O..kay?
Me: “-and your order should arrive in 1-2 weeks-“
SC: “Sauce!”
S…sauce? That random outburst may make sense in your normally medication controlled world, but I fear it doesn’t make a shred of sense to me in the context you are using it. Sauce for what? Your tickets? You do realize they are not technically edible, right? Well, actually perhaps technically they are, but only technically in that they are likely made of paper and can probably pass through the human digestive system without causing permanent damage. But just because you can does not mean you should. If you expanded your diet to “technically edible” I fear many office supplies and/or household pets may be in grave danger.
The dictionary informs me that this another example of me not being “down with it”. A status which I make no effort to correct and in many ways, pride myself on avoiding. This is apparently some sort of admittedly lame slang for something “Desirable or praiseworthy”. At least I desperately hope that is the context you are using it. As the other definitions range from odd to implying remarkably disturbing things about our relationship.
A Cunning Plan
Me: “And how do you spell your last name, please?”
SC: “Take a half a pill! You’re not going to make me mad!”
Me: “…….”
SC: “Sorry.”
That’s quite alright. I don’t usually get through a shift without at least one psychotic outburst. So don’t worry, I’m quite use to it at this point. By all means, if you feel your precarious grip on sanity slipping away go right ahead and just froth at the receiver for a moment or two until you’re “better”.
Me: “And did you want to leave an alternative number?”
SC: “That one is fine, if I win..... <whisper> I don’t want anyone else to know.”
….I…meant a second number for yourself. Not just some random person’s number. Or are you operating under the belief your other lines are tapped? Hmmmm, yes, I can see your concern. A true criminal mastermind wouldn’t just break into your house and steal all your stuff. Oh no, a true criminal would think long term and go through all the time and effort of tapping your phone lines just in case you purchased a lottery ticket and managed to beat the odds to win a prize. All in preparation for the glorious day when he can mug you for a $50 Futureshop gift card.
SC: “I would like a ticket out of your batch now, then another ticket down the road somewhere else.....”
Congratulations! That’s even more deluded then the people who insist on random numbered tickets. So you want to buy two tickets, but you want me to send you one now out of the current “batch”, then wait a few weeks and send you the other one from a different “batch”? Clever. With two different tickets from two different batches you can ensure you have at least one ticket that will avoid the inevitable warlock hex that you seem to believe afflicts at least one batch of tickets every year.
…Granted, considering how often I myself attempt to hex a given batch of tickets, I suppose I can’t quite fault you on this one.
Dissappointed
Alright, look. I’m going to level with you here, ok? This is me, bearing my heart. Being straight with you. No lies, bro. Ok? I’m not trying to hurt your feelings here. But, look….just…..ok I’ll just level with you: You’re an idiot. There, I said it. It’s out there. It’s in the open. We can talk about it now, you and me. I know, I know, you’re hurt, you’re confused, you’re….ok, you probably don’t even comprehend what I’m talking about. But trust me, you have the intellectual capabilities of a throw cushion and around about the same level of education.
Now, I’m not one to just throw around wild accusations without evidence. So allow me to demonstrate. You stated you were on the website ( An amazing feat onto itself, seeing as it means you have operated a computer without hospitalizing yourself or burning your house down. This time, anyway. ). Thus you are staring directly at the page of the item you wish to order. You then asked for that item in 2XL….despite the fact that the webpage for the item clearly shows it is not available in 2XL. 2XL is not even mentioned anywhere on the page. It’s not like it says 2XL, but it’s out of stock. It literally does not say it’s available in 2XL whatsoever. Yet despite having this glaring evidence before you, you pushed forward anyhow. You didn’t even ask “Oh hey, does this come in 2XL?” you plowed on right ahead and assumed it came in 2XL despite absolutely no evidence to support your theory.
Had you taken all of 5 seconds to look at, well, anything about the item description beyond the picture you would have realized this. Thus avoiding the tragic disappointment you are currently experiencing.
..........
SC: “There’s a guy in the hallway. He's not breathing, I don't think he lives here."
…..let me see if I follow along here. There’s a corpse in the hallway and your immediate reaction was “I better call maintenance”? Not, say, calling 911? But rather the dude who fixes leaky sinks? What exactly do you expect the maintenance to do? Help you bury him at an undisclosed location? I don't think he's pay enough for that.
SC: “Can you do something about this? If he’s dead there’s gonna be stink in the building.”
……ok, so…..your biggest problem with finding a corpse is the potential amount of Lysol you may need to purchase in the immediate future? What exactly were you calling maintenance for? Did you want someone to come by and arrange the body to better suit the building’s Feng Shui until a coroner arrived? Nothing like a corpse to really ruin the ambience of a room I guess? I mean I know I just hate it when I come home and there’s a body on the floor. Because it means I totally have to Febreeze the entire carpet again.
annnnd rest
No Problem, I'll Just Wait Right Here
SC: “Can you tell me your website? So I can check and tell you exactly what I want to order.”
Hah! Such meager things are well within my vast, limitless power. Very well, peasant, I shall grant you this boon. But only this once! For I feel generous this evening. Your peculiar voice has led me to mentally picture a man with a strangely shaped head, much to my amusement. So I will give you this pittance as thanks for the inadvertent mirth your existence brings me.
SC: “Are you busy? Can you wait and I will choose which I want to order?”
Me: “I can’t stay on the line too long, how long do you need?”
SC: “Maybe 5 minutes?”
Hah! Ahhhh, you do indeed provide me with mirth. Though once again, it is completely inadvertent. You think that I, the dark master of this nocturnal domain, lord over all I see ( Temporarily, sort of, ok really just my desk and even then ) am going to sit here in silence for 5+ minutes whilst you indecisively browse the website? Probably in your underwear? I think not! For you see, with my limitless power and wisdom I can predict exactly how this will unfold: You will take upwards of 10-15 minutes to decide all the while asking me foolish questions, seeking opinions and reassurances I cannot give you on matters of the personal tastes of whomever you're shopping for.
Untamed Credit
Me: “And the card number please?”
SC: “Oh wait, I’m running to it.”
Ah, yes, they are rather fast ones, aren’t they? Why, in the wild, a Visa card can easily hit 80 km/h across the Serengeti. It’s no wonder you’re having trouble catching yours. The thing to remember though is that they don’t have a lot of stamina. You can run them down if you keep after them. You’ve got to wear them out. Be careful though, they’ll try and zig zag to throw you off. Make you trip up. If you can, chase it into a smaller room where it doesn’t have much space to maneuver. Then it’s only a matter of time before you can get close enough for a mortal strike.
Try to latch onto the throat if you can.
5 Minutes
SC: “I just wanna make an order.”
5 minutes. I believe that was your astute estimate of the time it would take you to come to a decision. You informed me of your delusional and overtly optimistic estimate 25 minutes ago. You have a remarkably skewed sense of time, peasant. We are most displeased, but at the same time thankful we did not have to endure the 25 minutes in question along with you.
Me: “And what message would you like on the card?”
SC: “I love you.”
I am flattered, peasant, but there are many who grovel before my likeness in adoration an-oh, you mean on the card? Right. Sorry.
SC: “Can you make it more literary? Like, make it more dramatic for me?”
You want me to pen loving poetry to your wife for you? I think not. What are you even doing ordering flowers at 1 in the morning anyhow? Let along trying to convince moi to enrapture your wife for you? You did something wrong, didn’t you? Really, really wrong. Like “Anniversary at Wendy’s” wrong or "Naked with the dog and a jar of peanut butter" wrong. ( In the latter case I recommend at least a dozen roses ).
Me: “And the card number, please?”
SC: “I wanna change my order-“
…after you have already greedily consumed 15 minutes of my time you wish to go straight back to the beginning? I find myself slowly coming to the realization that the biggest regret I have in life is that I cannot choke people remotely with the Force.
You Waited For That?
SC: “Yeah, I was on hold so long I just went ahead and placed the order online anyway.”
Well…er…I…guess I appreciate that you continued to wait on hold just so you could rub that in my face. Thank you. Why did you just place it online to begin with? That would have been easier, faster, and more appropriate at 3 in the god damn morning then picking up the phone.
Of Course!
SC: “I don’t know her address, if I give you her phone number can you call her and get the address from her? Don't tell her who you are though, this is suppose to be a surprise.”
Of course! No problem! Because that’s not at all creepy. Hey, we’d totally like to deliver....something.....to you from some random dude that called us but he doesn’t know where you live……yet. Would you mind telling us? Who are we? Oh, nobody in particular. Oh hey, did you want me to write her loving poetry on the card on your behalf as well? Apparently that’s a service I should be providing. Maybe something really romantic like “I AM ALWAYS WATCHING”.
I Was Hoping You Did
Me: “And your number there, please?”
SC: “Oh good God, who knows?”
Well, to be honest, I was rather hoping you did seeing as you’re the one calling from it. But once again it appears I have set my expectations for callers just a tad too high. My apologies. In the future I will endeavor to hold out absolutely no hope that any of you can formulate a response to even the most basic of questions. Once again, I am sorry. I have clearly set a standard you cannot possibly hope to live up too. Thus irreparably damaging your self esteem and shattering what little confidence you had in life. There is nothing left for you now but a downward spiral into depression and heavy Kool-Aid abuse.
That's Not How This Works
Me: “By credit card or COD?
SC: “Uhhh, I have to put money to the card first.”
Me: “Did you want it by COD then?”
SC: “Nope.”
You…do realize those are the only two possibilities, right? I do not have any other methods by which you may exchange currency for pants. Dare I ask what method you wish to employ?
Me: “……then how would you like to pay for it?”
SC: “I’ll pay for it in the morning”
…..Right, ok. Look, I realize that the outskirts of your village constitute the entire world to you. However, I regret to inform you that out here in the actual real world, “Oh, yeah I’ll totally pay fer it later, trust me” isn’t an acceptable form of payment. It only works within the confines of your village because the owner of the only store for 500kms is your uncle and/or cousin and/or boyfriend.
Unless, of course, have a bushel of grain and a goat? In which case perhaps we can work something out.
Maybe?
SC: “Do you think a size 12 for those shoes would fit a 2 year old?”
Not unless he’s father’s a sasquatch, no. Though I will concede when you get that far north such a thing becomes a distinct possibility. So, maybe?
Clever
Me: “Was there any time of day you would like them to call?”
SC: “When I’m home.”
Ah, right. I’m sorry, but my information form here doesn’t seem to have a checkbox for “Caller requested a representative with psionic abilities”. Would a normal, mundane human rep be alright? If you like I can ask him to pretend to be a leprechaun or something for you? You know, spice it up a little. You obviously have some rather elaborate expectations, I’m sure we can find something in the land of immaaaaagination that would work for you.
Faux Pas
Me: “And your phone number please?”
SC: “What number are you going to call me on?”
Which….ever….one you give me? Hence the question? I must have missed something here, Bob. You clearly believe that I, and perhaps everyone, should already be aware of your phone numbers and thus be able to make a selection. Without having to openly inquire about them. Now, you will have to forgive me, as I tend to slumber during the day. So I may have missed the news that you had recently been crowned emperor of Earth and all were expected to know the numbers by which you can be reached. My failure to do so, even if out of ignorance, has likely doomed me to a lifetime in the salt mines for my transgression against your eminence.
Locked Out? No Problem!
I find that once again I must clarify that this is not an all encompassing emergency line. This is only for property management emergencies. You know, things like say, a water leak or a noise complaint. Things that reside within the realm of building maintenance. So if, for example, your drunken neighbour has locked his drunken wife out of the suite, and she is now trying to stab her way back into her own suite with a hammer and a steak knife, that’s just not something we can help you with. That’s a situation that calls for someone with access to a tazer and a baton. Such a police officer or, depending on how intoxicated she is, possibly animal control.
Either way, it’s not really our area of expertise.
Big Words
Me: “And which colour would you like?”
SC: “Polar…poolar…poolareesed?”
Me: “Polarized.”
SC: “Yeah!”
Please select products that you can actually pronounce. Preferably single syllables that you can safely handle such as “Red pants” or “Black hat” or “Brown foot things”.
“And which colour would you like?”
“I-reee....ree.....day-um.....Ree-dam....."
"Iridium."
"Yeah
Please, heed my warnings. These calls would go much faster if you didn’t attempt anything above a grade 2 reading level. I appreciate that you’re trying, but you’re just aiming far too high given your current capabilities.
Know your limit, read within it.
Dedication To The Craft
( This guy was on hold for near 10 minutes due to a problem caller I was having )
SC: “Oh my goodness sir! I have been waiting for I don’t know how long!”
Indeed! I am actually quite impressed you waited on hold that long just for a prank call. You must truly be an artist to devote yourself so to the craft.
SC: “My toilet, it would not flush and it is starting to clog up! I am very worried that my wife or children will notice, for I may have been doing something that does not need to be mentioned!”
Wink wink, nudge nudge. Say no more, say no more.
SC: “I need a step by step through for what to do! All I have is a plunger and some tools!”
Me: “I’m afraid I am the dispatch service, I am not a tech myself. Do you need me to page one for you?”
SC: “…..Uh……”
I sense I have deviated from the script you planned out in your head.
SC: “I do not know what that is sir! This is the first time I have called one of these numbers!”
Do you need a moment to think up something new? I mean, you’re really giving this your all. It would be a shame to let it all go to waste now. Come on man, you're a professional, improvise!
SC: “Explain to me what that is!”
Me: “I am a dispatch service, do you require immediate service? Do you need someone to come to your home?”
SC: “….uh…..It’s not, it’s just....uh......um.....that is clogged. It, uh, it just the....inside the toilet. Do you know what I should do to solve that problem?”
I admire that you’re trying to stick with the script, but I fear I have already adlibbed far too much for us to recovery the scene now. You’re going to have to think of something else. Quickly! The audience is starting to wonder what’s going on.
Me: “I cannot walk you through this, I am not a technician myself.”
SC: “What can I do with my plunger and/or wrenches?”
I can think of several things you can do with your plunger and/or wrenches but elaborating would likely end my employment.
Me: “As I said, I am not a technician, I cannot assist you in this matter.”
SC: “Well, that was a waste of my time and your time sir!”
Me: “Indeed it was, sir!
SC: “I am deeply disappointed, sir, and will hang up with glee!”
Me: "I look forward to that, sir, also with glee!"
You gotta give him credit for riding it out till the bitter end regardless.
It's Called Afterhours
Me: “Minimum call out is $200 plus material.”
SC: “Holy cow! How come it’s so expensive?”
Would you get out of bed in the middle of the night and drive down town to spend several hours fixing someone else's shit for anything less than $200?
SC: “Why $200?”
Me: “That is the minimum call out fee, because we’re afterhours at the moment.”
SC: “Do you know somebody that’s cheaper than that?”
You….want me to recommend another company? I must have misheard that. Did you seriously ask me if I could recommend a competitor? That’s….not exactly what I would classify as good business sense. Nor is you asking that question what I would classify as good common sense. You don’t seriously expect me to tell you to go to a competitor, do you?
Me: “I’m afraid I could not recommend another company. For obvious reasons.”
SC: “Well thanks, you’re a very nice guy. Thank you very much. <click>”
And now you’re getting sarcastic with me because I wouldn’t recommend a competing business? Really? Hey, I know. You run a restaurant downtown right? Awesome. Hey, can you recommend another restaurant that’s better than yours? I don’t really want to have to go to yours if I don’t have too ( The owner’s kind of a dick ). But obviously you must know if there’s another restaurant around that’s better, right?
Now, per requests, I'll reprise last week's post for those that missed it:
Payment Options
Me: “Alright, and which credit card would you like to use?”
SC: “Oh, I’ll use my community card.”
Me: “Your what, sorry?
SC: “Community card”
Me: “Is that a Visa or Mastercard or?”
SC: “Oooh, you want one of those credit cards.”
Yes, one of those credit cards. I know, sorry, they’re kind of obscure so not a lot of people really know about them. I mean you can barely find anywhere that accepts them. I don’t even know why we do for that matter. It’s not like anyone actually has a Visa or Mastercard. Seriously, we should just go back to our original payment options: Bartering for grain and livestock. Oh, you laugh now, but let me tell you, you bring us a bushel of grain and a goat and by god you’ve got yourself some pants.
Hot Tips
SC: “Oh, I meant to phone a different number, but while I’ve got you on the phone here I would like to say that a Mrs has been hurting my fertility with a person nicknamed Vinny.”
…..Alright then. I would just like to take a moment to say that I appreciate that you are so dedicated to your craft that even when you phone us by accident you still make sure to have a fresh carton of crazy ready to go just in case. It’s that little bit of effort to go the extra mile that truly elevates you above all other challengers.
Good Times
Despite your impression, I assure you I really do want to take a message for you. Honest! However, the message you are trying to leave with me is that someone is calling in sick…..buuuuut you don’t actually know who. You know what his name sounds like. Part of it anyway. You don’t actually know his full name, or how to spell it, or where he works or what time he’s suppose to work at. In fact you confessed that you’d never even met the man you’re supposedly calling for. Which raises a whole host of interesting questions by itself. How exactly did you come across this particular message if you have never met the guy you’re professing to pass along the message of? Did he stuff it in a bottle and hurdle it out his window in lieu of calling himself? Just hoping some kindly passerby would notice and call in sick for him? Did he send you smoke signals? Did you see a vision?
Whatever the method, you stubbornly refused to give me even the slightest hint about him or yourself with which I might unravel this mystery. As if you viewed me as some sort of diabolical Soviet interrogator to your charming, American spy. I would ask you where the microfilm was, you’d refuse to answer and crack a joke. I would pretend to laugh for a moment then suddenly stop. Then I would slap you before adjusting my monocle and calling you a capitalist pig dog. You'd spit out a tooth then tell me I hit like a girl. Your false bravado would continue right up until I had an underling wire the car battery to your nipples.
Good times, good times.
Operation Indifference
I was inadvertently and unwilling launched into the forefront of a sting operation this evening. Which, if I do say so myself, has to qualify as going above and beyond in our customer service. As last I checked “Doing battle with criminal scum” wasn’t on our list of advertised services ( Though it totally should be ).
It all began innocently with a call from a tenant from a tenant, who was locked out of his suite. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. However, when I called the manager, he informed me that this particular tenant had a warrant out for his arrest and they were just waiting for him to try and come back to this place. So that they might spring their cunning trap upon him. However, this revelation put me into the forefront of this particular sting operation. Because hey, guess who has to talk to him and convince him to stay put so the police can get there in time? Me! The manager wanted no part of it and informed me not to call him about if he called again, but try to keep him there. So it was all upon moi to ensure the criminal mastermind was kept in place while the drag net tightens around him.
….Buuuuuuut unfortunately, the police appear to take a rather leisurely approach to these sorts of things. Meaning I had to weave a intricate web of deception over the course of several calls as he wondered why it was taking so long with increasing levels of desperation and suspicion. This ended up going on for over 3 hours with no sign of the calvary. 3 hours! Before the dejected quarry finally gave up and left. Waltzing back out of the trap entirely by virtue of boredom. So just to review: Wanted criminal, shows up where they were waiting for him, police are called, but it takes them so long to respond the suspect gets bored and wanders away.
The VPD is truly a well oiled machine.
O..kay?
Me: “-and your order should arrive in 1-2 weeks-“
SC: “Sauce!”
S…sauce? That random outburst may make sense in your normally medication controlled world, but I fear it doesn’t make a shred of sense to me in the context you are using it. Sauce for what? Your tickets? You do realize they are not technically edible, right? Well, actually perhaps technically they are, but only technically in that they are likely made of paper and can probably pass through the human digestive system without causing permanent damage. But just because you can does not mean you should. If you expanded your diet to “technically edible” I fear many office supplies and/or household pets may be in grave danger.
The dictionary informs me that this another example of me not being “down with it”. A status which I make no effort to correct and in many ways, pride myself on avoiding. This is apparently some sort of admittedly lame slang for something “Desirable or praiseworthy”. At least I desperately hope that is the context you are using it. As the other definitions range from odd to implying remarkably disturbing things about our relationship.
A Cunning Plan
Me: “And how do you spell your last name, please?”
SC: “Take a half a pill! You’re not going to make me mad!”
Me: “…….”
SC: “Sorry.”
That’s quite alright. I don’t usually get through a shift without at least one psychotic outburst. So don’t worry, I’m quite use to it at this point. By all means, if you feel your precarious grip on sanity slipping away go right ahead and just froth at the receiver for a moment or two until you’re “better”.
Me: “And did you want to leave an alternative number?”
SC: “That one is fine, if I win..... <whisper> I don’t want anyone else to know.”
….I…meant a second number for yourself. Not just some random person’s number. Or are you operating under the belief your other lines are tapped? Hmmmm, yes, I can see your concern. A true criminal mastermind wouldn’t just break into your house and steal all your stuff. Oh no, a true criminal would think long term and go through all the time and effort of tapping your phone lines just in case you purchased a lottery ticket and managed to beat the odds to win a prize. All in preparation for the glorious day when he can mug you for a $50 Futureshop gift card.
SC: “I would like a ticket out of your batch now, then another ticket down the road somewhere else.....”
Congratulations! That’s even more deluded then the people who insist on random numbered tickets. So you want to buy two tickets, but you want me to send you one now out of the current “batch”, then wait a few weeks and send you the other one from a different “batch”? Clever. With two different tickets from two different batches you can ensure you have at least one ticket that will avoid the inevitable warlock hex that you seem to believe afflicts at least one batch of tickets every year.
…Granted, considering how often I myself attempt to hex a given batch of tickets, I suppose I can’t quite fault you on this one.
Dissappointed
Alright, look. I’m going to level with you here, ok? This is me, bearing my heart. Being straight with you. No lies, bro. Ok? I’m not trying to hurt your feelings here. But, look….just…..ok I’ll just level with you: You’re an idiot. There, I said it. It’s out there. It’s in the open. We can talk about it now, you and me. I know, I know, you’re hurt, you’re confused, you’re….ok, you probably don’t even comprehend what I’m talking about. But trust me, you have the intellectual capabilities of a throw cushion and around about the same level of education.
Now, I’m not one to just throw around wild accusations without evidence. So allow me to demonstrate. You stated you were on the website ( An amazing feat onto itself, seeing as it means you have operated a computer without hospitalizing yourself or burning your house down. This time, anyway. ). Thus you are staring directly at the page of the item you wish to order. You then asked for that item in 2XL….despite the fact that the webpage for the item clearly shows it is not available in 2XL. 2XL is not even mentioned anywhere on the page. It’s not like it says 2XL, but it’s out of stock. It literally does not say it’s available in 2XL whatsoever. Yet despite having this glaring evidence before you, you pushed forward anyhow. You didn’t even ask “Oh hey, does this come in 2XL?” you plowed on right ahead and assumed it came in 2XL despite absolutely no evidence to support your theory.
Had you taken all of 5 seconds to look at, well, anything about the item description beyond the picture you would have realized this. Thus avoiding the tragic disappointment you are currently experiencing.
..........
SC: “There’s a guy in the hallway. He's not breathing, I don't think he lives here."
…..let me see if I follow along here. There’s a corpse in the hallway and your immediate reaction was “I better call maintenance”? Not, say, calling 911? But rather the dude who fixes leaky sinks? What exactly do you expect the maintenance to do? Help you bury him at an undisclosed location? I don't think he's pay enough for that.
SC: “Can you do something about this? If he’s dead there’s gonna be stink in the building.”
……ok, so…..your biggest problem with finding a corpse is the potential amount of Lysol you may need to purchase in the immediate future? What exactly were you calling maintenance for? Did you want someone to come by and arrange the body to better suit the building’s Feng Shui until a coroner arrived? Nothing like a corpse to really ruin the ambience of a room I guess? I mean I know I just hate it when I come home and there’s a body on the floor. Because it means I totally have to Febreeze the entire carpet again.
annnnd rest
I AM the evil bastard!
He was a nice guy, and I did need to alter his order after it came up in my system so that two items that normally would ship together would ship as available instead...but I didn't need to spend at least 15 minutes on the phone with him to do that! 
Comment