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Wherein My Sexual Orientation Is Called Into Question
Couple rather...special....callers this week. >.>
Never Give Up
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Is this Yellow Cab?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “Black Top Taxi?”
Your refusal to give up hope is admirable, but I fear you are only setting yourself up for even greater disappointment. Walk away man, walk away.
Whiskey Tailor Foxtrot
SC: “Hallo?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Yesh, masha finda toad, uh. Coat.”
Oh wow. You, my friend, are sloshed. I have absolutely no idea what you just said beyond “Coat”. Everything before it was a rambling mishmash of sounds that tried to make it from your brain to your mouth but ended up drowning in a river of whiskey somewhere inbetween.
Me: “What was that, sorry?”
SC: “Double breshted, double coat.”
Me: “This is regarding a product?”
SC: “Colour ish blark.”
Well, that bunch was smart enough to use a boat to cross the river. Sadly, their boat was still set upon by Captain Morgan half way across.
SC: “Yesh, I’m on innanet. Item eshkey.”
…Eshkey? I’m…not 100% sure what an eshkey is to be honest. I assume because I don’t have a blood alcohol content high enough to kill mosquitoes.
SC: “Jush throughtesh niece.”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
SC: “Jush throughtesh niece.”
This is actually kind of amazing in a way. Normally with an inebriated caller I can still grasp the general gist of what they’re saying. But you, my friend, I haven’t the slightest idea what it is you’re trying to communicate to me. It’s actually kind of impressive you’re still conscious and haven’t been hospitalized.
SC: “I’m trynna order”
Oh Lord help you. And me. Ordering requires that you provide me with a substantial amount of accurate information. Seeing as it took you near a full two minutes just to explain you wanted to place an order, this doesn’t bode well for the future.
Me: “What size?”
SC: “My neck is, uh, 90 inches wide”
…Your neck is 90 inches? Um….well, I guess that actually helps me out a bit. I was worried I wouldn’t even be able to get a name out of you for your order. But your dimensions have given it away.
Tell me, do you prefer “Jabba The Hutt” or just “Jabba T. Hutt”?
Me: “I’m sorry…you wanted what size?”
SC: “Neck is 40 inchs long….no, 20 inchs…..bout 55 inchs long I guess.”
That was a joke. I was joking. Please stop and just give me an actual, reasonable size you would like to order.
SC: “Shoulder ish bout 57 inches….butt is 47 inches wide….”
You are painting a most terrifying image.
SC: “and ma arms is 35 inches long.”
Ok, let me see if I have this horrifying mental image right: Your neck is 7 and a half feet wide and 4 and a half feet tall. Your shoulders are also around 4 and a half feet wide. Your butt is 4 feet wide and your arms are around 3 feet long?
So….basically……you have the figure of Shaggy from Scooby Doo, wearing an ice cream cone costume?
The Octagon
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “BIRDFIGHTER HAT!!!”
..I….what? I feel like I just walked in on a particularly drunken game of Mad Libs. What exactly is a “Birdfighter Hat”? Ignoring the obvious question of why someone would actively be looking to fight birds, exactly what kind of hat does one wear in order to engage birds in combat?
Alright…so….it’s a UFC hat? That….that confuses me even more I must admit. Is Bird Fighter a legitimate title or style of combat in the UFC? Or do they just throw one man with a bag of French fries into the octagon with 40 seagulls? Come to think of it, that would be awesome. I would totally watch that.
By Your Powers Combined
SC: “The smell is awful!”
Again? You know, almost every call we've taken over the last two weeks is you and you alone. Are you sure the problem isn’t just that your place alone stinks?
SC: “I’m losing my voice!”
Then there is a God and he has listened to my pleas.
SC: “No one else has called?”
Nope. No one. Ever. You are the only one who ever calls about this from that building.
SC: “They’re so lucky that there’s so many Chinese and East Indians living here.”
What…does that even mean? I mean I know you’re being
racist…..somehow……..again, but I don’t understand how and that actually makes it worse. I know I should be offended, but I can’t understand why. Which is probably why no one ever calls you on it. Because they never quite understand exactly what you’re trying to imply.
Ok?
Me: “And would like to leave a secondary phone number?”
SC: “Yeah! Secondary’s are great!”
Um….sure. If you say so? I wasn’t aware having multiple phone numbers was something to get really excited over. But very well, if that is the case: Viva la…um….second lines? ….Are you sure this is something exciting? Sorry, it just strikes me as somewhat mundane. I could be mistaken of course. But I’ve never seen a bumper sticker that read “Ladies, You Can Reach Me At My Other Number”.
Oh God
( Apparently I pronounce certain words "wrong" >.> )
SC: “You’re not from around here, are you boy?”
...W...What? Of course I am! I am 100% completely American. I…um….I love baseball, yeah! Baseball and…..uh…and…..Nascar? Yeah, Nascar. My favourite is that one guy, that…uh…the guy with the moustache…he…he drives really well. Um. In a circle. Yeah.
Oh God, please don't tell me I have "purdy lips".
Wow, Dude
SC: “You’re only answering calls in case of an emergency, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Well that’s what it is! ……..but it’s not an emergency though.”
Alllright. You sound just a little bit inebriated over there.
SC: “CAN I GET STEVE TO PHONE ME BACK!??!”
Cripes!! Volume, Skippy, volume! Indoor voice. Remember your indoor voice.
Me: “What exactly is the problem you’re having?”
SC: “Well, I think you’re the problem, number one.”
…..Careful, Icarus.
Me: “Do you know his last name? There are a couple of Steve's in the office.”
SC: “STEVE! ….uh, hold on. You’re making things….difficult.”
I’m not making things difficult. Whiskey is making things difficult.
SC: “How’s the mesash, hersh the message, ok? CONTACT! Stesh”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “What?”
Me: “I didn’t understand what you said, sorry.”
SC: “Well that’s because you interrupted me!”
…..Noooo, it’s because you’re talking like Daffy Duck with a 40oz in him.
SC: “That’s why you don’t follow proper instrushions.”
You’re absolutely correct sir. I shall review these ”Instrushions” immediately to ensure this never happens again.
SC: “Contact….<proceeds to scream his name at me letter by letter>”
Me: “There’s no need to yell, sir.”
SC: “Oh, sorry, was I being vocal?”
Yes….”vocal” is putting it politely.
SC: “I’m at <address>. That’s in Vancouver.”
….are....are you seriously pulling the “Snotty 8 year old girl” voice on me?
SC: “That’s in British Columbia. Why don’t I just give you my postal code, hm? So you can figure out where it is.”
You are. Oh, bravo. Here I was thinking this call couldn’t get any better and you went and found some icing for the cake. Bless your heart.
SC: “My instrushions are to buy a lawyer!”
Er,right. Two things: 1) What? and C) Can you buy lawyers? I thought you hired them. But yes, now that you have explained the instrushions, you are correct in that I have no followed them. I apologize.
SC: “It’s not important, it’s not an emergency, it’s not urgent. But just in case I punch, I don't know, my manager.”
Now you’re suggesting violence against your building manager? Wow, you’re just going all out here aren’t you. You realize that not only is this all recorded, but you’ve already helpfully provided me with your name and address, right?
Me: “Is there any message you’d like me to leave?”
SC: “Why?! You don’t even know what Steve it’s for!”
Wait, how is that my fault now?
Me: “All I can do is leave a general message for the office-“
SC: “Thash exactly what I asked you to do!!”
Me: “Yes…that’s what I’m asking, what message would you like me to leave?”
SC: “Well, will it be urgent? Will it be marked what? What do you wanna mark it?”
We are now at the 7 minute mark of these shenanighans. I tire.
Me: “Alright, look. Sir, would you like to leave a message? Otherwise I’m going to have to terminate this call.”
SC: "YEAH I KNOW YOU WILL, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT"
Ah. Excellent. Homophobic slurs. Classy. Welp, I know someone I’m not talking too anymore! I bet you’ll never guess who it is! Go on, guess. You have until I reach the disconnect key.
Good For You
SC: “I ordered a pants.”
….Did you now? You must be thrilled. Did they fit? It would be a shame if you couldn’t fit into a pants. Then you’d have to order another a pants.
Wow, Dude II
SC: “Is this the same fucker I just talked too?”
Me: "Why yes, yes it is, and I refuse to provide you with any service whatsoever. Goodbye, sir."
SC: "<incoherent rage sputter>"
How kind of you to offer me a second chance to hang up on you. The first time was fairly satisifying, but didn't quite scratch the entire itch.
Why Thank You
C: “You have the most amazing telephone voice.”
.....please don't tell me I have "purdy lips".
Just The Messenger
C: “Can I page them again without, you know, jeopardizing what you do there?”
Awww, your concern for my continued employment is sweet. But I fear I am merely a dispatch. It is you who must face her wrath alone, young Padawan. Prepare yourself. Know that I am with you in spirit!
Wow Dude III
SC: “Can I leave a message?”
Me: “No, I refuse to speak with you. You may call the office in the morning if you want, but we will not be providing you service."
SC: “You know my manager is a lesbian, a fag like you should get along with her.”
Once again, I thank you kindly for leaving me all of your information in the first call. Including your name, phone number and address. I'm sure your building manager will be quite thrilled to learn you threatened to punch her in the face in a homophobic rage.
You may want to begin apartment hunting. But I wouldn't count on a reference.
annnnd rest. -.-
Never Give Up
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “Is this Yellow Cab?”
Me: “No, sorry.”
SC: “Black Top Taxi?”
Your refusal to give up hope is admirable, but I fear you are only setting yourself up for even greater disappointment. Walk away man, walk away.
Whiskey Tailor Foxtrot
SC: “Hallo?”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Yesh, masha finda toad, uh. Coat.”
Oh wow. You, my friend, are sloshed. I have absolutely no idea what you just said beyond “Coat”. Everything before it was a rambling mishmash of sounds that tried to make it from your brain to your mouth but ended up drowning in a river of whiskey somewhere inbetween.
Me: “What was that, sorry?”
SC: “Double breshted, double coat.”
Me: “This is regarding a product?”
SC: “Colour ish blark.”
Well, that bunch was smart enough to use a boat to cross the river. Sadly, their boat was still set upon by Captain Morgan half way across.
SC: “Yesh, I’m on innanet. Item eshkey.”
…Eshkey? I’m…not 100% sure what an eshkey is to be honest. I assume because I don’t have a blood alcohol content high enough to kill mosquitoes.
SC: “Jush throughtesh niece.”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
SC: “Jush throughtesh niece.”
This is actually kind of amazing in a way. Normally with an inebriated caller I can still grasp the general gist of what they’re saying. But you, my friend, I haven’t the slightest idea what it is you’re trying to communicate to me. It’s actually kind of impressive you’re still conscious and haven’t been hospitalized.
SC: “I’m trynna order”
Oh Lord help you. And me. Ordering requires that you provide me with a substantial amount of accurate information. Seeing as it took you near a full two minutes just to explain you wanted to place an order, this doesn’t bode well for the future.
Me: “What size?”
SC: “My neck is, uh, 90 inches wide”
…Your neck is 90 inches? Um….well, I guess that actually helps me out a bit. I was worried I wouldn’t even be able to get a name out of you for your order. But your dimensions have given it away.
Tell me, do you prefer “Jabba The Hutt” or just “Jabba T. Hutt”?
Me: “I’m sorry…you wanted what size?”
SC: “Neck is 40 inchs long….no, 20 inchs…..bout 55 inchs long I guess.”
That was a joke. I was joking. Please stop and just give me an actual, reasonable size you would like to order.
SC: “Shoulder ish bout 57 inches….butt is 47 inches wide….”
You are painting a most terrifying image.
SC: “and ma arms is 35 inches long.”
Ok, let me see if I have this horrifying mental image right: Your neck is 7 and a half feet wide and 4 and a half feet tall. Your shoulders are also around 4 and a half feet wide. Your butt is 4 feet wide and your arms are around 3 feet long?
So….basically……you have the figure of Shaggy from Scooby Doo, wearing an ice cream cone costume?
The Octagon
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “BIRDFIGHTER HAT!!!”
..I….what? I feel like I just walked in on a particularly drunken game of Mad Libs. What exactly is a “Birdfighter Hat”? Ignoring the obvious question of why someone would actively be looking to fight birds, exactly what kind of hat does one wear in order to engage birds in combat?
Alright…so….it’s a UFC hat? That….that confuses me even more I must admit. Is Bird Fighter a legitimate title or style of combat in the UFC? Or do they just throw one man with a bag of French fries into the octagon with 40 seagulls? Come to think of it, that would be awesome. I would totally watch that.
By Your Powers Combined
SC: “The smell is awful!”
Again? You know, almost every call we've taken over the last two weeks is you and you alone. Are you sure the problem isn’t just that your place alone stinks?
SC: “I’m losing my voice!”
Then there is a God and he has listened to my pleas.
SC: “No one else has called?”
Nope. No one. Ever. You are the only one who ever calls about this from that building.
SC: “They’re so lucky that there’s so many Chinese and East Indians living here.”
What…does that even mean? I mean I know you’re being
racist…..somehow……..again, but I don’t understand how and that actually makes it worse. I know I should be offended, but I can’t understand why. Which is probably why no one ever calls you on it. Because they never quite understand exactly what you’re trying to imply.
Ok?
Me: “And would like to leave a secondary phone number?”
SC: “Yeah! Secondary’s are great!”
Um….sure. If you say so? I wasn’t aware having multiple phone numbers was something to get really excited over. But very well, if that is the case: Viva la…um….second lines? ….Are you sure this is something exciting? Sorry, it just strikes me as somewhat mundane. I could be mistaken of course. But I’ve never seen a bumper sticker that read “Ladies, You Can Reach Me At My Other Number”.
Oh God
( Apparently I pronounce certain words "wrong" >.> )
SC: “You’re not from around here, are you boy?”
...W...What? Of course I am! I am 100% completely American. I…um….I love baseball, yeah! Baseball and…..uh…and…..Nascar? Yeah, Nascar. My favourite is that one guy, that…uh…the guy with the moustache…he…he drives really well. Um. In a circle. Yeah.
Oh God, please don't tell me I have "purdy lips".
Wow, Dude
SC: “You’re only answering calls in case of an emergency, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “Well that’s what it is! ……..but it’s not an emergency though.”
Alllright. You sound just a little bit inebriated over there.
SC: “CAN I GET STEVE TO PHONE ME BACK!??!”
Cripes!! Volume, Skippy, volume! Indoor voice. Remember your indoor voice.
Me: “What exactly is the problem you’re having?”
SC: “Well, I think you’re the problem, number one.”
…..Careful, Icarus.
Me: “Do you know his last name? There are a couple of Steve's in the office.”
SC: “STEVE! ….uh, hold on. You’re making things….difficult.”
I’m not making things difficult. Whiskey is making things difficult.
SC: “How’s the mesash, hersh the message, ok? CONTACT! Stesh”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “What?”
Me: “I didn’t understand what you said, sorry.”
SC: “Well that’s because you interrupted me!”
…..Noooo, it’s because you’re talking like Daffy Duck with a 40oz in him.
SC: “That’s why you don’t follow proper instrushions.”
You’re absolutely correct sir. I shall review these ”Instrushions” immediately to ensure this never happens again.
SC: “Contact….<proceeds to scream his name at me letter by letter>”
Me: “There’s no need to yell, sir.”
SC: “Oh, sorry, was I being vocal?”
Yes….”vocal” is putting it politely.
SC: “I’m at <address>. That’s in Vancouver.”
….are....are you seriously pulling the “Snotty 8 year old girl” voice on me?
SC: “That’s in British Columbia. Why don’t I just give you my postal code, hm? So you can figure out where it is.”
You are. Oh, bravo. Here I was thinking this call couldn’t get any better and you went and found some icing for the cake. Bless your heart.
SC: “My instrushions are to buy a lawyer!”
Er,right. Two things: 1) What? and C) Can you buy lawyers? I thought you hired them. But yes, now that you have explained the instrushions, you are correct in that I have no followed them. I apologize.
SC: “It’s not important, it’s not an emergency, it’s not urgent. But just in case I punch, I don't know, my manager.”
Now you’re suggesting violence against your building manager? Wow, you’re just going all out here aren’t you. You realize that not only is this all recorded, but you’ve already helpfully provided me with your name and address, right?
Me: “Is there any message you’d like me to leave?”
SC: “Why?! You don’t even know what Steve it’s for!”
Wait, how is that my fault now?
Me: “All I can do is leave a general message for the office-“
SC: “Thash exactly what I asked you to do!!”
Me: “Yes…that’s what I’m asking, what message would you like me to leave?”
SC: “Well, will it be urgent? Will it be marked what? What do you wanna mark it?”
We are now at the 7 minute mark of these shenanighans. I tire.
Me: “Alright, look. Sir, would you like to leave a message? Otherwise I’m going to have to terminate this call.”
SC: "YEAH I KNOW YOU WILL, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT"
Ah. Excellent. Homophobic slurs. Classy. Welp, I know someone I’m not talking too anymore! I bet you’ll never guess who it is! Go on, guess. You have until I reach the disconnect key.
Good For You
SC: “I ordered a pants.”
….Did you now? You must be thrilled. Did they fit? It would be a shame if you couldn’t fit into a pants. Then you’d have to order another a pants.
Wow, Dude II
SC: “Is this the same fucker I just talked too?”
Me: "Why yes, yes it is, and I refuse to provide you with any service whatsoever. Goodbye, sir."
SC: "<incoherent rage sputter>"
How kind of you to offer me a second chance to hang up on you. The first time was fairly satisifying, but didn't quite scratch the entire itch.
Why Thank You
C: “You have the most amazing telephone voice.”
.....please don't tell me I have "purdy lips".
Just The Messenger
C: “Can I page them again without, you know, jeopardizing what you do there?”
Awww, your concern for my continued employment is sweet. But I fear I am merely a dispatch. It is you who must face her wrath alone, young Padawan. Prepare yourself. Know that I am with you in spirit!
Wow Dude III
SC: “Can I leave a message?”
Me: “No, I refuse to speak with you. You may call the office in the morning if you want, but we will not be providing you service."
SC: “You know my manager is a lesbian, a fag like you should get along with her.”
Once again, I thank you kindly for leaving me all of your information in the first call. Including your name, phone number and address. I'm sure your building manager will be quite thrilled to learn you threatened to punch her in the face in a homophobic rage.
You may want to begin apartment hunting. But I wouldn't count on a reference.
annnnd rest. -.-
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