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It's All A Conspiracy
Naturally. >.>
The First Step Is Always a Doozy
Me: “And your first name please, sir?”
SC: “Uuhhhhh…….ummmmm……”
You know, normally I would make fun of you for this. But if your answer to this rather simplistic question is any indication, then simply locating a telephone and dialing our number must have been a grueling, inspirational journey full of both hardships and hope. Easily worthy of a made for TV movie.
Of Course, What Else Would I Be Doing?
SC:“So what are you up for so early? Are you roasting coffee?”
Damn straight. Just me, a donkey and half a ton of Columbian dark roast. Made from fresh, fair trade Arabica beans from high in the Andes and personally hiked down the mountain side by this exact donkey. Whom the locals refer to in hushed whispers as “El Gran Semental De Le Haba”, the Great Bean Stallion. He was then shipped straight to the west coast right in the container with the beans and to our doorstep. That’s the secret to the freshest coffee you know. It’s kind of like how you put a piece of bread in with cookies to keep them soft and fresh. With coffee, you need to keep a live donkey in there with them at all times to keep them fresh.
Trick Questions
Me: “and your address please?”
SC: “Uh……what's an “address”?”
Ahhh, a newcomer. This must be your first time using the magic box to speak with what we refer to as “Civilization”. Very well, it seems we must give you a crash course in what it takes to be at least a dimly functioning component of society. Your “address” is where you live. It is the physical location that you currently occupy. But not in a literal sense. I mean we only need to know which mail box or which house is yours in your particular town. I don’t need to know that you generally live on a couch or in your living room or face down in a snow bank with a blood alcohol level over 0.5. Those particular details are irrelevant. I merely need enough information to ensure your package, and the fabulous wonders within, reach you in a timely fashion.
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “It’s 0…0…0…ch…fhsfags, uh..TRIPLE ZERO!”
You know, I was trying to make a joke with the blood alcohol level thing. But yet again it appears I was much closer to the truth than I had anticipated. I can’t even make fun of you anymore because every wisecrack I make or exaggerated scenario I come up with turns out to be dangerously close to reality. Then it’s not funny anymore. It’s just kind of scary.
Crack A Window
C: “You’re very good! You repeat everything!”
Ah, one of the few types of callers I actually like! The easily impressed. Though, I feel I must confess something. Half of the reason I repeat everything is indeed to confirm the information is correct. However, the other half is a dangerous, hulking beast we all fear and respect known as “QA”. Even as I speak, I am beneath it’s ever watchful gaze and must be careful to make no sudden movements.
Me: “Alright, I will page the on call tech and have him return your call shortly-“
SC: “Oh my goodness, really? That is so soon! Thank you so much!”
You’re just a bit too cheerful me thinks. I mean when the thought of making a 3am call to have your printer fixed fills you with wide eyed wonder, you might want to crack a window. Because I’d wager you’re inhaling some sort of fumes and could probably use the ventilation.
It Was The One Armed Man
SC: “Is this someone real that I’m talking too?”
I’m afraid so, yes. But if it makes you feel better, feel free to think of me as a very sophisticated phone system or a rather vivid hallucination.
SC: “I was just arrested wrongfully.”
Mhmm. I’m sure you were. You and half of everyone who calls this line. Why, with the sheer level of injustice that apparently transpires here every night, the statue of Lady Justice up by the court house is probably peeking through her blindfold and wagging a disapproving finger by now. But yes, you’re right. I’m sure this was totally a big mistake and you’re completely innocent. Merely another poor victim of The Man™. Who is currently doing his best to keep you down.
SC: “I feel really threatened right now!”
Yes, I’m sure police are planning to toss you into the harbour with a bag of souvenir cat litter tied to each ankle. You know, right after they let you call a lawyer and let them know exactly who, what and where you are. This is the kind of nefarious genius we’re up against in the fight for true justice.
SC: “They brought me here and put me in a holding cell.”
The nerve! Why, it sounds like they’re treating you like absolutely everyone else. This is an outrage!
SC: “They said I was being arrested for mischief, which is really vague!”
Well, actually, that is a criminal charge per the criminal code of Canada. C-34, S-430 to be specific! How about that? Sure you’re in jail, but you’re learning!
SC: “I asked the guard a question and he threatened to break my nose!”
Dude. You’re being charged with Mischief. You’re not a big time felon at odds with the system. Seriously, you’ll spend the night in jail and they’ll let you out in the morning with an order to appear in court. You are not in, around or remotely even near the “Big House” as it were. This does not make you a hardened criminal. On the Jail Bird scale, you clock in at “Briefly Inconvenienced Chickadee”.
So you’ll have to give up on your dreams of trading cigarettes for toilet bowl moonshine.
SC: “All these guards, they’re all together, you know what I mean?”
Ah, so now it’s a conspiracy. They’re all in on it, are they? Conspiring to charge you with Mischief under $5000. A charge which results in a fine ( gasp ) on the best of days. Yes, truly you have been greatly wronged and this is all a plot by the police to fine innocent upstanding citizens such as yourself. So they can raise illicit funds for Timbits.
SC: “There was someone that made a threat to my life! He said that he was going to break my nose!”
Contrary to your poor grasp of human anatomy, a broken nose is not actually a life threatening injury. I sincerely doubt you are in any physical danger what so ever. Never mind mortal danger. The only thing in danger here is the patience of the officer standing outside the cell right now, rolling his eyes and massaging his temples as you gesture wildly at the phone.
SC: “You do not want this on your conscience if I pass away in here!”
Oh, don't worry, I'd get over it.
On The Case
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Jennifer.”
Jennifer, eh? If you’re a Jennifer, I’m an Amanda.
Me: “I’m sorry, but your name is Jennifer?”
SC: “……..uh, yeah.”
Me: “………..”
SC: “………<click>”
Well, so much for that cunning attempt at subterfuge. Good thing Amanda was on the case!
Things I've Learned
SC: “There’s construction going on in front of our building. Still going on. They’re working really hard and it’s so noisy!”
Ah, of course! Ignoring the fact there's fuck all I can do about that and you totally have the wrong number, I’ve actually had this kind of complaint before. So allow me to pass along what I learned to you, the caller, before you take any needless actions. Such as, say, storm out there and threaten to stand in front of their equipment in your bath robe. Which I believe is what happened the last time someone called me about this sort of thing. I pray you will be somewhat more rational or at least somewhat more clothed.
First of all, if they’re working at night, it’s because it’s an emergency or they have a permit. Said permits are issued by city hall. Before you ask, I had nothing to do with the permit, do not know who issued the permit, have absolutely no association with those that issued the permit, am not even part of the same company, department or office that issued the permit and most importantly have absolutely no power to stop the cruel tormenters that currently possess said permit.
SC: “I don’t believe you, but ok. Bye.”
Your lack of faith wounds me, truly. Yes, I admit it! I am but a pawn of The Man™. The conspiracy is everywhere. The city, the police, your resident manager, you name it. All for the sake of Timbits. They have a permit because they can clock OT hours working overnight which directly translates into yet more funds for Timbits. You have no idea how far the conspiracy goes and whose in on it! Why, it goes all the way up to Parliament. Legislating Canada Post back to work? Every day they spend not at work is another day they don’t stop at Tim Hortons on the way to work.
No one knows the true masterminds behind it. They are shadowy figures known only as the Sugar Coated Seven, and much like the chocolate Timbits, they’re already gone by the time you get to them.
Well, Ok Then
SC: “I got da box open n' I’ve spent two days studyin’ dis n’ tryin’ ta figure out what the Hell-“
You’ve spent two days studying the instructions and still haven’t gotten passed opening the box? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you’re qualified to undertake this project. You may wish to obtain the assistance of a friend or family member. Or at least find someone who can spot you while you work on this and hopefully help you ward off severe injury.
SC: "-and one of tha parts is missing!"
Me: “Oh, alright. That's not a problem, I can send you out a replacement part under warranty. It'll only take a couples days a-"
SC: “YEW AIN'T SENDIN' ME SHIT!"
....Okay. Is there some particular reason you don’t want a replacement for the piece that’s missing from the box? It would seem to be that it would be the easiest way to solve the dilemma you face.
SC: “I ain’t fuckin’ fixin’ yer mistake!”
….O….kay then. You’re a charming one, aren’t you? Let me get this straight: You’re calling because there’s a piece missing from the box. But you don’t want me to replace that piece for you because you don’t want to “fix” our mistake…..despite the fact you are not actually fixing or repairing anything as you have not even begun to assemble the product. So you quite literally called just to tell us where we could stick it. Instead of simply allowing us to rectify the problem. Which would have been quick, painless and totally free. Costing you nothing save a couple minutes or your time to obtain your shipping information.
But no, apparently the better solution to your problem is just to call and abuse some random CSR for no reason whatsoever who will naturally spread the tale of your dickery along with your indentification ensuring you will be never get a replacement part. Got it. Please enjoy your totally useless product whose retail sticker price I believe was around $250?
Oh, by the way the store will not take it back as a return and will refer you right back to us.
Right-O
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yappa-jer-doodle!”
And a fine whackity-smackity-doo to you as well, ma’am.
annnnd rest.
The First Step Is Always a Doozy
Me: “And your first name please, sir?”
SC: “Uuhhhhh…….ummmmm……”
You know, normally I would make fun of you for this. But if your answer to this rather simplistic question is any indication, then simply locating a telephone and dialing our number must have been a grueling, inspirational journey full of both hardships and hope. Easily worthy of a made for TV movie.
Of Course, What Else Would I Be Doing?
SC:“So what are you up for so early? Are you roasting coffee?”
Damn straight. Just me, a donkey and half a ton of Columbian dark roast. Made from fresh, fair trade Arabica beans from high in the Andes and personally hiked down the mountain side by this exact donkey. Whom the locals refer to in hushed whispers as “El Gran Semental De Le Haba”, the Great Bean Stallion. He was then shipped straight to the west coast right in the container with the beans and to our doorstep. That’s the secret to the freshest coffee you know. It’s kind of like how you put a piece of bread in with cookies to keep them soft and fresh. With coffee, you need to keep a live donkey in there with them at all times to keep them fresh.
Trick Questions
Me: “and your address please?”
SC: “Uh……what's an “address”?”
Ahhh, a newcomer. This must be your first time using the magic box to speak with what we refer to as “Civilization”. Very well, it seems we must give you a crash course in what it takes to be at least a dimly functioning component of society. Your “address” is where you live. It is the physical location that you currently occupy. But not in a literal sense. I mean we only need to know which mail box or which house is yours in your particular town. I don’t need to know that you generally live on a couch or in your living room or face down in a snow bank with a blood alcohol level over 0.5. Those particular details are irrelevant. I merely need enough information to ensure your package, and the fabulous wonders within, reach you in a timely fashion.
Me: “And the item number please?”
SC: “It’s 0…0…0…ch…fhsfags, uh..TRIPLE ZERO!”
You know, I was trying to make a joke with the blood alcohol level thing. But yet again it appears I was much closer to the truth than I had anticipated. I can’t even make fun of you anymore because every wisecrack I make or exaggerated scenario I come up with turns out to be dangerously close to reality. Then it’s not funny anymore. It’s just kind of scary.
Crack A Window
C: “You’re very good! You repeat everything!”
Ah, one of the few types of callers I actually like! The easily impressed. Though, I feel I must confess something. Half of the reason I repeat everything is indeed to confirm the information is correct. However, the other half is a dangerous, hulking beast we all fear and respect known as “QA”. Even as I speak, I am beneath it’s ever watchful gaze and must be careful to make no sudden movements.
Me: “Alright, I will page the on call tech and have him return your call shortly-“
SC: “Oh my goodness, really? That is so soon! Thank you so much!”
You’re just a bit too cheerful me thinks. I mean when the thought of making a 3am call to have your printer fixed fills you with wide eyed wonder, you might want to crack a window. Because I’d wager you’re inhaling some sort of fumes and could probably use the ventilation.
It Was The One Armed Man
SC: “Is this someone real that I’m talking too?”
I’m afraid so, yes. But if it makes you feel better, feel free to think of me as a very sophisticated phone system or a rather vivid hallucination.
SC: “I was just arrested wrongfully.”
Mhmm. I’m sure you were. You and half of everyone who calls this line. Why, with the sheer level of injustice that apparently transpires here every night, the statue of Lady Justice up by the court house is probably peeking through her blindfold and wagging a disapproving finger by now. But yes, you’re right. I’m sure this was totally a big mistake and you’re completely innocent. Merely another poor victim of The Man™. Who is currently doing his best to keep you down.
SC: “I feel really threatened right now!”
Yes, I’m sure police are planning to toss you into the harbour with a bag of souvenir cat litter tied to each ankle. You know, right after they let you call a lawyer and let them know exactly who, what and where you are. This is the kind of nefarious genius we’re up against in the fight for true justice.
SC: “They brought me here and put me in a holding cell.”
The nerve! Why, it sounds like they’re treating you like absolutely everyone else. This is an outrage!
SC: “They said I was being arrested for mischief, which is really vague!”
Well, actually, that is a criminal charge per the criminal code of Canada. C-34, S-430 to be specific! How about that? Sure you’re in jail, but you’re learning!
SC: “I asked the guard a question and he threatened to break my nose!”
Dude. You’re being charged with Mischief. You’re not a big time felon at odds with the system. Seriously, you’ll spend the night in jail and they’ll let you out in the morning with an order to appear in court. You are not in, around or remotely even near the “Big House” as it were. This does not make you a hardened criminal. On the Jail Bird scale, you clock in at “Briefly Inconvenienced Chickadee”.
So you’ll have to give up on your dreams of trading cigarettes for toilet bowl moonshine.
SC: “All these guards, they’re all together, you know what I mean?”
Ah, so now it’s a conspiracy. They’re all in on it, are they? Conspiring to charge you with Mischief under $5000. A charge which results in a fine ( gasp ) on the best of days. Yes, truly you have been greatly wronged and this is all a plot by the police to fine innocent upstanding citizens such as yourself. So they can raise illicit funds for Timbits.
SC: “There was someone that made a threat to my life! He said that he was going to break my nose!”
Contrary to your poor grasp of human anatomy, a broken nose is not actually a life threatening injury. I sincerely doubt you are in any physical danger what so ever. Never mind mortal danger. The only thing in danger here is the patience of the officer standing outside the cell right now, rolling his eyes and massaging his temples as you gesture wildly at the phone.
SC: “You do not want this on your conscience if I pass away in here!”
Oh, don't worry, I'd get over it.
On The Case
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “Jennifer.”
Jennifer, eh? If you’re a Jennifer, I’m an Amanda.
Me: “I’m sorry, but your name is Jennifer?”
SC: “……..uh, yeah.”
Me: “………..”
SC: “………<click>”
Well, so much for that cunning attempt at subterfuge. Good thing Amanda was on the case!
Things I've Learned
SC: “There’s construction going on in front of our building. Still going on. They’re working really hard and it’s so noisy!”
Ah, of course! Ignoring the fact there's fuck all I can do about that and you totally have the wrong number, I’ve actually had this kind of complaint before. So allow me to pass along what I learned to you, the caller, before you take any needless actions. Such as, say, storm out there and threaten to stand in front of their equipment in your bath robe. Which I believe is what happened the last time someone called me about this sort of thing. I pray you will be somewhat more rational or at least somewhat more clothed.
First of all, if they’re working at night, it’s because it’s an emergency or they have a permit. Said permits are issued by city hall. Before you ask, I had nothing to do with the permit, do not know who issued the permit, have absolutely no association with those that issued the permit, am not even part of the same company, department or office that issued the permit and most importantly have absolutely no power to stop the cruel tormenters that currently possess said permit.
SC: “I don’t believe you, but ok. Bye.”
Your lack of faith wounds me, truly. Yes, I admit it! I am but a pawn of The Man™. The conspiracy is everywhere. The city, the police, your resident manager, you name it. All for the sake of Timbits. They have a permit because they can clock OT hours working overnight which directly translates into yet more funds for Timbits. You have no idea how far the conspiracy goes and whose in on it! Why, it goes all the way up to Parliament. Legislating Canada Post back to work? Every day they spend not at work is another day they don’t stop at Tim Hortons on the way to work.
No one knows the true masterminds behind it. They are shadowy figures known only as the Sugar Coated Seven, and much like the chocolate Timbits, they’re already gone by the time you get to them.
Well, Ok Then
SC: “I got da box open n' I’ve spent two days studyin’ dis n’ tryin’ ta figure out what the Hell-“
You’ve spent two days studying the instructions and still haven’t gotten passed opening the box? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you’re qualified to undertake this project. You may wish to obtain the assistance of a friend or family member. Or at least find someone who can spot you while you work on this and hopefully help you ward off severe injury.
SC: "-and one of tha parts is missing!"
Me: “Oh, alright. That's not a problem, I can send you out a replacement part under warranty. It'll only take a couples days a-"
SC: “YEW AIN'T SENDIN' ME SHIT!"
....Okay. Is there some particular reason you don’t want a replacement for the piece that’s missing from the box? It would seem to be that it would be the easiest way to solve the dilemma you face.
SC: “I ain’t fuckin’ fixin’ yer mistake!”
….O….kay then. You’re a charming one, aren’t you? Let me get this straight: You’re calling because there’s a piece missing from the box. But you don’t want me to replace that piece for you because you don’t want to “fix” our mistake…..despite the fact you are not actually fixing or repairing anything as you have not even begun to assemble the product. So you quite literally called just to tell us where we could stick it. Instead of simply allowing us to rectify the problem. Which would have been quick, painless and totally free. Costing you nothing save a couple minutes or your time to obtain your shipping information.
But no, apparently the better solution to your problem is just to call and abuse some random CSR for no reason whatsoever who will naturally spread the tale of your dickery along with your indentification ensuring you will be never get a replacement part. Got it. Please enjoy your totally useless product whose retail sticker price I believe was around $250?
Oh, by the way the store will not take it back as a return and will refer you right back to us.
Right-O
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “Yappa-jer-doodle!”
And a fine whackity-smackity-doo to you as well, ma’am.
annnnd rest.
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