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Wherein We Ruin Many A Christmas
Yes yes, I've been lazy because of the holidays. So now I have to play catch up and post the last two weeks worth of tomfoolery. Many Christmases were ruined. All of them were my fault. Apparently. >.>
Christmases Ruined: 1
How To Ruin Christmas In Two Easy Steps:
Number 1: Gather all of your children’s presents that are destined to be “From Santa” and, in a stroke of genius(?) decide to hide them outside of your home so your children don’t find them. Specifically, for some reason, stuff them in the building’s storage room.
Number 2: Neglect to realize that the storage room gets locked at night for security reasons.
Obviously this is my fault too of course. I have totally ruined Christmas because there's no way I'm waking up your property manager at 3am to see if he has the keys and feels like driving 45 minutes down to your building.
That Must Be Inconvenient
Me: “Alright, and the email address please?”
SC: “Oh, I don’t have that. I’m a dinosaur.”
Yes, I can see how that might present a problem. Typing would be a tad difficult with fore claws the size of basketballs. Still, you did manage to dial. Though I suppose it’s possible you have a smart phone and were able to dial with verbal commands. In which case, good for you! There are many obstacles to being a dinosaur in today’s world, but you’ve successfully overcome some of them and for that I’m proud of you. It must be difficult wandering around with a brain the size of a walnut, but rest assured, when it comes to my callers, you’re frankly not alone.
Christmases Ruined: 2
I appreciate your persistence and creativity, good sir. However, no matter how many times and how many different ways you ask there is utterly no way I’m going to guarantee that if you place an order right now you’ll get it by Christmas ( Seeing as you're calling all of 24 hours prior ). Yes, I realise I am ruining Christmas. Again. But making such a commitment on my part would require the possibility of pulling off a Christmas miracle. If I had the capability to pull off such a thing, I would not be wasting it on getting you the Christmas gifts you totally forgot to order. I would, instead, wish for an clandestine Russian submarine mission in the arctic to go dangerously wrong resulting in the phone lines across the seabed being completely severed by an errant torpedo. Cutting off the phone service of all of arctic Canada for several weeks until they can be fully repaired.
Please, Santa?
Christmases Ruined: 3
Let me give you a little tip here for your future dealing with customer service: You see, I completely sympathized with you and your missing package which will not arrive in time for Christmas. That certainly sucks ( Though perhaps in the future you won’t use the 7-10 day US Postal shipping option 10 days before Christmas then expect them to deliver on the weekend ). I can certainly see what we can do about trying to figure out what happened to it. ( Though again, you used the cheap USPS ground shipping so they don’t offer tracking or confirmation on delivery, way to go ). But when you begin fishing for freebies and dropping lines on me line like:
“I want to know what you’re going to make me happy”
You immediately remove any and all sympathy I had for you. Especially when you persist by waxing on about how this is your first time ordering from us and how this is totally a negative experience while repeatedly eluding to how we could give you something to “make you happy” I assume in the form of discounts or free stuff. You know, to help you recover from this horrible experience largely of your own creation.
Rules Of Engagement
We need to have a little chat, you and I. As I don’t think you quite know what the rules of the game are here. See, when I ask you to spell your name, and you do, then I repeat it back to you: What I’m seeking from you is simple confirmation or denial that I have performed my task correctly and captured the correct sequence of letters required by your moniker. You need only say “Yes” or “No”. Or any variant thereof. I will accept a variety of positive affirmations such as “Yeah”, “Yep”, “You got it”, “Ci”, “Oui” or “Whoa, high five dude!”. I need only know that I have succeeded or failed at my task. If you just repeat how to spell your name again…..four more times, you are not actually helping the situation. In fact, you are locking us into a dangerous feedback loop from which neither of us will ever be able to escape.
We will spend eternity locked in this bitter verbal engagement. Circling each other, weary and panting, looking for any sign of weakness so we can put what little strength we have left into a final last ditch attempt to end our shared misery.
I Need A Florida Tag
SC: “Do you celebrate Christmas in Canada?”
Fortunately, I managed to mute my mic before the involuntary strangled noise of shock and disdain was overhead.
Christmases Ruined: 4
Really, I shouldn't have to point this kind of thing out. But just for future reference if you need a gift by Christmas and you go to order it online 3 days before and it says "Out Of Stock" next to it, then pops up a window that says "Out Of Stock" when you add it to your cart then pops up a window that says "Out Of Stock, this item can be backordered but will require an additional 1-2 weeks to ship" when you click on check out. It's probably not going to arrive in time for Christmas.
Just, you know, FYI.
Story Time!
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “What is your name?!”
My friends call me Irked, but you may call me Mr. Suddenly Slightly Annoyed.
SC: “This is Frank, I think I phoned you a week or two ago.”
It is possible. I do believe I recall being suddenly slightly annoyed once before sometime prior.
SC: “What happened was that the lady was suppose to come tomorrow but my friend Gloria, I’ve known her 40 years. She wanted me to go to White Spot. It’s the only day she has to meet me for Christmas. So we were going to go to White Spot for Christmas Dinner. The one right down town there?”
…….Alright then. Thank you? That was extremely informative. Utterly unhelpful and straight up confusing as to its purpose or direction. But very informative. I trust that two weeks from now, I shall receive another call to update me on your dining experience and menu choices. Trust that I will be on the edge of my seat as I wait for the next chapter of this stunning serial drama to unfold. I do so hope to learn exactly what type of burger and side Gloria of 40 Year’s prefers. She seems like such a complex, 3 dimensional character and I cannot wait to see how her story arc unfolds this season.
Oh oh, I bet she’s a Cylon.
Christmases Ruined: 5
I sincerely could not care less that I have ruined your grandchildren's Christmas because you selected the wrong shipping option and never bothered to double check the order or the order confirmation email. I am also willing to put down good money that they could not care less either seeing as you bought them scarfs.
....What? I Don't Even....
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “No, you, I, uh, seven o’clock. Yes.”
I….er….what?
Me: “Hello?”
SC: “Uh, I don’t know.”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Hi, I live 17.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “Unit number Eskimo”
Unit number……Eskimo? You appear somewhat confused. I fear I am as well.
Me: “Alright, what’s the name of the building please?”
SC: “North Van satelitte ID”
I….don’t……..what…..are you trying to say? Are you trying to say anything? I mean, I hear words, but not sentences. It’s as if you’ve plucked every word of your magnetic poetry set off the fridge and are just throwing them at the fridge door then reading out loud whatever sticks.
Me: “Sorry, what was the name of it again?”
SC: “17.”
Me: “What’s the name of it please, sir?”
SC: “I told you.”
Me: “I need the name of the building please.”
SC: “93.”
Me: “What’s the name of the building please, sir?”
SC: “49”
Me: “.....Alright, but what’s the name of it please?”
SC: “Uh, dun nao.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “Yes”
Oooooh, oh, wait just a moment. I get it. I know what you’re up too. Ahhh, you thought you were clever didn’t you? You thought you could get me! But I have seen through your nefarious plans. You were trying to confuse me. Get me as muddled in the head as you are. Trying to drag me down to your level, so you could beat me with experience. But no! I have seen through your trickery! Give it up, villain, your plot has failed!
Me: “Excuse me?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “What’s the name of your build please, sir?”
SC: “Yep. Taledo.”
You….you can stop now. I know what you’re up too. You don’t have to keep this up anymore. It’s not going to work. It’s alright.
Me: “But what is the name of your building please, sir?”
SC: “I want somebody here for.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “97”
..…Please stop.
Seriously, Please. Stop.
SC: “My name is Joe, two hours ago I called you and told you I needed hall”
Actually, that was 15 minutes ago.
Me: “What’s the name of your building please, sir?”
SC: “My name?”
Me: “No, the name of your build please.”
SC: “It just has a number!”
Me: “They all have names, sir.”
SC: “I don’t know what! <vaguely incoherent rant that mentions two crossroads>”
That’s….vaguely address sounding. Very well, I shall attempt to locate this building based on the….crossroads(?) you have listed.
Me: “Alright, and what’s the problem?”
SC: “Two hour ago my neighbour in the on top.”
Your neighbour….in the on top? On top as in…above you? Or like…on top of your cupboard? ….Is your neighbor a cat?
SC: “Is that too much noising for me.”
Yes, this is too much noising for me as well.
Thanks
SC: “Oh, you’re just the answering machine, so you’re not useful. Do you have anyone there that’s useful?”
You wound me, good sir. I would like to think that I am quite helpful seeing as is practically my job description. However, it is true that I cannot send someone down to your building in the dead of night to help you figure out how to get the machine to display the total left on your laundry card. “Useful” is not quite the term I would use for this scenario.
“Hilariously unlikely” perhaps.
Let It Go, Man
SC: “On Sept 7th, I called in about a coin return not working on the washing machine so I had lost a dollar. I wanted my dollar back.”
From Sept 7th? Dude, it’s a dollar. A dol-lar. Let it go, man. Let it go. You can’t seriously be so hard up as to be pursuing the refund of a dollar you lost over 3 months ago. The scruffy homeless guy holding the door open at the Skytrain station with his tip cup is in better financial shape than you and he smelled like Big Macs and Listerine.
Alright Then
There was a most curious sight wandering around 7/11 this evening. An older gentleman, prowling around the doughnut rack, with a bag on his head. Apparently as protection from the rain. Normally, I fully applaud ingenuity, but this was not even a plastic grocery bag. This was a little zip lock bag. He had barely managed to pull it down over the very top of his head. It only came about down about halfway over his forehead. Normally, when you see such absurdity, the perpetrator is also blissfully unaware of their own absurdity. But not this man. He seemed to be quite aware of how stupid he looked, but rather than slink away sheepishly into the night or, say, taking the bag off his head at least while instead the store. He instead became offended that people and staff alike were looking at him like an idiot. Eventually favouring myself and the cashier with some choice words before storming out in a huff. Completely indignant that we did not appreciate his zip lock solution to Vancouver weather.
Christmases Ruined: 6
I appreciate that it is bothersome two of your little old lady neighbours are spreading rumours about you. But I fail to see exactly how I can help or why this merited a call to the emergency maintenance line in the dead of night on Christmas Eve.
Yes, ma'am. I'm aware I'm ruining Christmas.
Christmases Ruined: 7. Anniversaries Ruined: 1
Sooo.....$600 on a cashmere coat. But couldn't be assed to spent another $12 on a shipping option that would see arrive before New Years, nevermind Christmas. No, I can't change the shipping option mid transit. Its already half way there.
Yes, sir. I'm aware I'm ruining Christmas.
Christmases Ruined: 8
SC: “Well you’re not much help either!”
Indeed, I am not. As I cannot figure out anyway to overcome the obstacles you have created for yourself. I cannot assist with a lock out to begin with. However, you’ve gone the extra mile and locked yourself out on Christmas eve then somehow managed to not actually have your name on the lease for the apartment you’re trying to get back into. Thus ending up with the building’s concierge forbidding you entry as well. As I cannot retroactively forge legal documents, I fear you are very much correct. I am not of much help. For this, I fully apologize. I will put in a request with our management to have additional training in clandestine illegalities.
Yes, ma'am. I'm aware I'm ruining Christmas.
Rescue Operations
SC: “I ordered something 3 months ago and I’m still waiting for it to arrive”
What? You fool! Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Don’t you realize what this means? Do you have any idea how far you are from the nearest post office and what sort of terrain lay between here and there? You’re the northern equivalent of Mordor. If you haven’t received your package, it means that some poor, brave postal worker is currently a rigid corpsicle somewhere on the arctic tundra. Possibly surrounded by the wreckage of a plane or huddled desperately in a makeshift shelter fashioned from his canoe. Or stuck in a polar bear’s teeth. That too. Either way, your admission spells doom for at least one brave young mailman. Had you called earlier, we might have been able to mount a rescue. But now, they are surely lost.
In the future, please advise us as soon as possible if your package has not arrived. As lives may be in danger.
Christmases Ruined: 8-2
SC: “Thanks for nothing”
In my defence, it has only been an hour. That is nowhere near enough time to learn how to forge signatures let alone learn the skills required to break into the concierge’s office undetected and perform the swap. I consider myself to be rather crafty, but even I need a couple of practice runs before I can figure out how to bypass a security system.
Yes, ma'am. I'm aware I'm still ruining Christmas.
Miscommunication
It appears we have had a little miscommunication, you and I. You see, when I asked if you wanted to place an order, that was, oddly enough, exactly what I meant. Thus, when you said yes, you did want to place an order. I foolishly believed that you actually wanted to place an order. When in fact all you wanted was to leave a note about an order you had already placed online. This is a much different scenario then what you agreed too. I have suggested that we go see a movie tonight, and you have agreed then shown up at my place in a wet suit.
But, do allow me to thank you and your wet suit for waiting until you had gone all the way through with placing an order before letting me know right at the end that you didn’t want to place an order. Even going so far as to give me your credit card number. But oh well, I didn’t need those 10 minutes anyway. In fact, I didn’t even want them to begin with. You can have them. Go ahead. Help yourself. Don’t mind poor little old me.
Facebutt
Attention People of Broadway: Your friend does not look like “omigard, I know, right? Totally!” Ryan Seacrest. At all. Not even slightly. I hate to burst your bubble but I’ve been listening to all 3 of you squeal about this for the last 5 minutes and I feel compelled to inject some measure of reality. He does not look like Ryan Seacrest, not even in a “post terrible accident face reconstructed by a team of expert doctors” sort of way. Your friend looks like someone shaved half of a peach and sprayed it with a thin layer of fake tan and Crisco. He even kind of has that “sort of looks like a butt” thing that peaches have.
Stop That
Please stop calling and bridging me into your conference call. Normally I would not mind it so much, however you’re bridging me in with yourself, two disinterested women, a busy four way intersection and what sounds like a Yeti getting a nipple pierced. While I may not be a certified engineer myself, I’m fairly confident that the Yeti can no way provide me with any relevant information with which to open a case for you. Unless your company is in the habit of storing all of your software serial numbers on Yetis and he’s trained to bark out the numbers on command.
I assume the nipple piercing is so you have something to hang their employee ID badge on.
Like A Boss
Fairly quiet this evening….inside. Not so quiet outside on the other hand with the impending apocolypse or New Years or whatever. I find myself thankful to be behind 3 security doors and several floors above street level.
I did however spot one particularly amazing oddity on Granville. One lone wandering wildebeest that had such an amazing gap between how cool he looked and how cool he thought he looked that really I wanted to stop and offer a round of applause. In fact come to think of it, he was dressed exactly like Mr T. If Mr T was white and had an Abercrombie & Fitch modeling contract. He had the buzzed down Mohawk, the gold chains, the rings and the attitude even if it was hilariously misplaced coming from him. Sunglasses on to of course. Because if there’s one thing you need to worry about at 11pm in Vancouver in December it’s sun glare.
Still, he was strutting down the sidewalk like he owned this city and the only thing he could hear was Aerosmith.
Ok?
Thank you creepy robotic autodial preacher voice for your extensive and repeated well wishes for the New Year. It was very nice of you to call some odd 27 times across 5 different accounts to deliver your Speak & Spell message of good cheer. I too wish that “zero one over zero four” may bring all these wishes of cheer to me in the coming year.
Easy There
Me: “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”
SC: “IT SHOULD BE BOB!”
Are you blaming me for not being Bob? Or are you merely so intoxicated you can no longer internalize your thoughts? I mean, I guess I could say I’m Bob if it will make you feel better. I still can’t really help you with anything else though. But I mean if you just need a Bob, any Bob, I could sub in for a minute if you need me too.
Perhaps The Greatest Answer Ever
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “POWERCELL FACEMASK”
O…okay? I’m not sure if that’s the worst answer or the best answer I’ve ever heard to that question. I’m going to assume that is your superhero name and you do not wish to reveal your secret identity to me. I’m assuming this because you sound like you’re about 10 years old. But very well, as my evidence is still circumstantial, I will play along with your charade for the time being.
Me: “Alright, and the item number please?”
SC: “POWERCELL FACEMASK”
…..riiiight, yeah. You’re definitely 10.
Me: “I need the item number for the product, please.”
SC: “I don’t have dat, my mom isn't home. She went to the store.”
You’re really not very good at this.
Encore
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Arson”
ARSON WRISTSPIKE?
Me: “Right, how old are you?”
SC: “Um….uh...19?”
Months?
annnnd rest.
Christmases Ruined: 1
How To Ruin Christmas In Two Easy Steps:
Number 1: Gather all of your children’s presents that are destined to be “From Santa” and, in a stroke of genius(?) decide to hide them outside of your home so your children don’t find them. Specifically, for some reason, stuff them in the building’s storage room.
Number 2: Neglect to realize that the storage room gets locked at night for security reasons.
Obviously this is my fault too of course. I have totally ruined Christmas because there's no way I'm waking up your property manager at 3am to see if he has the keys and feels like driving 45 minutes down to your building.
That Must Be Inconvenient
Me: “Alright, and the email address please?”
SC: “Oh, I don’t have that. I’m a dinosaur.”
Yes, I can see how that might present a problem. Typing would be a tad difficult with fore claws the size of basketballs. Still, you did manage to dial. Though I suppose it’s possible you have a smart phone and were able to dial with verbal commands. In which case, good for you! There are many obstacles to being a dinosaur in today’s world, but you’ve successfully overcome some of them and for that I’m proud of you. It must be difficult wandering around with a brain the size of a walnut, but rest assured, when it comes to my callers, you’re frankly not alone.
Christmases Ruined: 2
I appreciate your persistence and creativity, good sir. However, no matter how many times and how many different ways you ask there is utterly no way I’m going to guarantee that if you place an order right now you’ll get it by Christmas ( Seeing as you're calling all of 24 hours prior ). Yes, I realise I am ruining Christmas. Again. But making such a commitment on my part would require the possibility of pulling off a Christmas miracle. If I had the capability to pull off such a thing, I would not be wasting it on getting you the Christmas gifts you totally forgot to order. I would, instead, wish for an clandestine Russian submarine mission in the arctic to go dangerously wrong resulting in the phone lines across the seabed being completely severed by an errant torpedo. Cutting off the phone service of all of arctic Canada for several weeks until they can be fully repaired.
Please, Santa?
Christmases Ruined: 3
Let me give you a little tip here for your future dealing with customer service: You see, I completely sympathized with you and your missing package which will not arrive in time for Christmas. That certainly sucks ( Though perhaps in the future you won’t use the 7-10 day US Postal shipping option 10 days before Christmas then expect them to deliver on the weekend ). I can certainly see what we can do about trying to figure out what happened to it. ( Though again, you used the cheap USPS ground shipping so they don’t offer tracking or confirmation on delivery, way to go ). But when you begin fishing for freebies and dropping lines on me line like:
“I want to know what you’re going to make me happy”
You immediately remove any and all sympathy I had for you. Especially when you persist by waxing on about how this is your first time ordering from us and how this is totally a negative experience while repeatedly eluding to how we could give you something to “make you happy” I assume in the form of discounts or free stuff. You know, to help you recover from this horrible experience largely of your own creation.
Rules Of Engagement
We need to have a little chat, you and I. As I don’t think you quite know what the rules of the game are here. See, when I ask you to spell your name, and you do, then I repeat it back to you: What I’m seeking from you is simple confirmation or denial that I have performed my task correctly and captured the correct sequence of letters required by your moniker. You need only say “Yes” or “No”. Or any variant thereof. I will accept a variety of positive affirmations such as “Yeah”, “Yep”, “You got it”, “Ci”, “Oui” or “Whoa, high five dude!”. I need only know that I have succeeded or failed at my task. If you just repeat how to spell your name again…..four more times, you are not actually helping the situation. In fact, you are locking us into a dangerous feedback loop from which neither of us will ever be able to escape.
We will spend eternity locked in this bitter verbal engagement. Circling each other, weary and panting, looking for any sign of weakness so we can put what little strength we have left into a final last ditch attempt to end our shared misery.
I Need A Florida Tag
SC: “Do you celebrate Christmas in Canada?”
Fortunately, I managed to mute my mic before the involuntary strangled noise of shock and disdain was overhead.
Christmases Ruined: 4
Really, I shouldn't have to point this kind of thing out. But just for future reference if you need a gift by Christmas and you go to order it online 3 days before and it says "Out Of Stock" next to it, then pops up a window that says "Out Of Stock" when you add it to your cart then pops up a window that says "Out Of Stock, this item can be backordered but will require an additional 1-2 weeks to ship" when you click on check out. It's probably not going to arrive in time for Christmas.
Just, you know, FYI.
Story Time!
Me: “Good evening, <company>”
SC: “What is your name?!”
My friends call me Irked, but you may call me Mr. Suddenly Slightly Annoyed.
SC: “This is Frank, I think I phoned you a week or two ago.”
It is possible. I do believe I recall being suddenly slightly annoyed once before sometime prior.
SC: “What happened was that the lady was suppose to come tomorrow but my friend Gloria, I’ve known her 40 years. She wanted me to go to White Spot. It’s the only day she has to meet me for Christmas. So we were going to go to White Spot for Christmas Dinner. The one right down town there?”
…….Alright then. Thank you? That was extremely informative. Utterly unhelpful and straight up confusing as to its purpose or direction. But very informative. I trust that two weeks from now, I shall receive another call to update me on your dining experience and menu choices. Trust that I will be on the edge of my seat as I wait for the next chapter of this stunning serial drama to unfold. I do so hope to learn exactly what type of burger and side Gloria of 40 Year’s prefers. She seems like such a complex, 3 dimensional character and I cannot wait to see how her story arc unfolds this season.
Oh oh, I bet she’s a Cylon.
Christmases Ruined: 5
I sincerely could not care less that I have ruined your grandchildren's Christmas because you selected the wrong shipping option and never bothered to double check the order or the order confirmation email. I am also willing to put down good money that they could not care less either seeing as you bought them scarfs.
....What? I Don't Even....
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “No, you, I, uh, seven o’clock. Yes.”
I….er….what?
Me: “Hello?”
SC: “Uh, I don’t know.”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Hi, I live 17.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “Unit number Eskimo”
Unit number……Eskimo? You appear somewhat confused. I fear I am as well.
Me: “Alright, what’s the name of the building please?”
SC: “North Van satelitte ID”
I….don’t……..what…..are you trying to say? Are you trying to say anything? I mean, I hear words, but not sentences. It’s as if you’ve plucked every word of your magnetic poetry set off the fridge and are just throwing them at the fridge door then reading out loud whatever sticks.
Me: “Sorry, what was the name of it again?”
SC: “17.”
Me: “What’s the name of it please, sir?”
SC: “I told you.”
Me: “I need the name of the building please.”
SC: “93.”
Me: “What’s the name of the building please, sir?”
SC: “49”
Me: “.....Alright, but what’s the name of it please?”
SC: “Uh, dun nao.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “Yes”
Oooooh, oh, wait just a moment. I get it. I know what you’re up too. Ahhh, you thought you were clever didn’t you? You thought you could get me! But I have seen through your nefarious plans. You were trying to confuse me. Get me as muddled in the head as you are. Trying to drag me down to your level, so you could beat me with experience. But no! I have seen through your trickery! Give it up, villain, your plot has failed!
Me: “Excuse me?”
SC: “Yeah.”
Me: “What’s the name of your build please, sir?”
SC: “Yep. Taledo.”
You….you can stop now. I know what you’re up too. You don’t have to keep this up anymore. It’s not going to work. It’s alright.
Me: “But what is the name of your building please, sir?”
SC: “I want somebody here for.”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “97”
..…Please stop.
Seriously, Please. Stop.
SC: “My name is Joe, two hours ago I called you and told you I needed hall”
Actually, that was 15 minutes ago.
Me: “What’s the name of your building please, sir?”
SC: “My name?”
Me: “No, the name of your build please.”
SC: “It just has a number!”
Me: “They all have names, sir.”
SC: “I don’t know what! <vaguely incoherent rant that mentions two crossroads>”
That’s….vaguely address sounding. Very well, I shall attempt to locate this building based on the….crossroads(?) you have listed.
Me: “Alright, and what’s the problem?”
SC: “Two hour ago my neighbour in the on top.”
Your neighbour….in the on top? On top as in…above you? Or like…on top of your cupboard? ….Is your neighbor a cat?
SC: “Is that too much noising for me.”
Yes, this is too much noising for me as well.
Thanks
SC: “Oh, you’re just the answering machine, so you’re not useful. Do you have anyone there that’s useful?”
You wound me, good sir. I would like to think that I am quite helpful seeing as is practically my job description. However, it is true that I cannot send someone down to your building in the dead of night to help you figure out how to get the machine to display the total left on your laundry card. “Useful” is not quite the term I would use for this scenario.
“Hilariously unlikely” perhaps.
Let It Go, Man
SC: “On Sept 7th, I called in about a coin return not working on the washing machine so I had lost a dollar. I wanted my dollar back.”
From Sept 7th? Dude, it’s a dollar. A dol-lar. Let it go, man. Let it go. You can’t seriously be so hard up as to be pursuing the refund of a dollar you lost over 3 months ago. The scruffy homeless guy holding the door open at the Skytrain station with his tip cup is in better financial shape than you and he smelled like Big Macs and Listerine.
Alright Then
There was a most curious sight wandering around 7/11 this evening. An older gentleman, prowling around the doughnut rack, with a bag on his head. Apparently as protection from the rain. Normally, I fully applaud ingenuity, but this was not even a plastic grocery bag. This was a little zip lock bag. He had barely managed to pull it down over the very top of his head. It only came about down about halfway over his forehead. Normally, when you see such absurdity, the perpetrator is also blissfully unaware of their own absurdity. But not this man. He seemed to be quite aware of how stupid he looked, but rather than slink away sheepishly into the night or, say, taking the bag off his head at least while instead the store. He instead became offended that people and staff alike were looking at him like an idiot. Eventually favouring myself and the cashier with some choice words before storming out in a huff. Completely indignant that we did not appreciate his zip lock solution to Vancouver weather.
Christmases Ruined: 6
I appreciate that it is bothersome two of your little old lady neighbours are spreading rumours about you. But I fail to see exactly how I can help or why this merited a call to the emergency maintenance line in the dead of night on Christmas Eve.
Yes, ma'am. I'm aware I'm ruining Christmas.
Christmases Ruined: 7. Anniversaries Ruined: 1
Sooo.....$600 on a cashmere coat. But couldn't be assed to spent another $12 on a shipping option that would see arrive before New Years, nevermind Christmas. No, I can't change the shipping option mid transit. Its already half way there.
Yes, sir. I'm aware I'm ruining Christmas.
Christmases Ruined: 8
SC: “Well you’re not much help either!”
Indeed, I am not. As I cannot figure out anyway to overcome the obstacles you have created for yourself. I cannot assist with a lock out to begin with. However, you’ve gone the extra mile and locked yourself out on Christmas eve then somehow managed to not actually have your name on the lease for the apartment you’re trying to get back into. Thus ending up with the building’s concierge forbidding you entry as well. As I cannot retroactively forge legal documents, I fear you are very much correct. I am not of much help. For this, I fully apologize. I will put in a request with our management to have additional training in clandestine illegalities.
Yes, ma'am. I'm aware I'm ruining Christmas.
Rescue Operations
SC: “I ordered something 3 months ago and I’m still waiting for it to arrive”
What? You fool! Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Don’t you realize what this means? Do you have any idea how far you are from the nearest post office and what sort of terrain lay between here and there? You’re the northern equivalent of Mordor. If you haven’t received your package, it means that some poor, brave postal worker is currently a rigid corpsicle somewhere on the arctic tundra. Possibly surrounded by the wreckage of a plane or huddled desperately in a makeshift shelter fashioned from his canoe. Or stuck in a polar bear’s teeth. That too. Either way, your admission spells doom for at least one brave young mailman. Had you called earlier, we might have been able to mount a rescue. But now, they are surely lost.
In the future, please advise us as soon as possible if your package has not arrived. As lives may be in danger.
Christmases Ruined: 8-2
SC: “Thanks for nothing”
In my defence, it has only been an hour. That is nowhere near enough time to learn how to forge signatures let alone learn the skills required to break into the concierge’s office undetected and perform the swap. I consider myself to be rather crafty, but even I need a couple of practice runs before I can figure out how to bypass a security system.
Yes, ma'am. I'm aware I'm still ruining Christmas.
Miscommunication
It appears we have had a little miscommunication, you and I. You see, when I asked if you wanted to place an order, that was, oddly enough, exactly what I meant. Thus, when you said yes, you did want to place an order. I foolishly believed that you actually wanted to place an order. When in fact all you wanted was to leave a note about an order you had already placed online. This is a much different scenario then what you agreed too. I have suggested that we go see a movie tonight, and you have agreed then shown up at my place in a wet suit.
But, do allow me to thank you and your wet suit for waiting until you had gone all the way through with placing an order before letting me know right at the end that you didn’t want to place an order. Even going so far as to give me your credit card number. But oh well, I didn’t need those 10 minutes anyway. In fact, I didn’t even want them to begin with. You can have them. Go ahead. Help yourself. Don’t mind poor little old me.
Facebutt
Attention People of Broadway: Your friend does not look like “omigard, I know, right? Totally!” Ryan Seacrest. At all. Not even slightly. I hate to burst your bubble but I’ve been listening to all 3 of you squeal about this for the last 5 minutes and I feel compelled to inject some measure of reality. He does not look like Ryan Seacrest, not even in a “post terrible accident face reconstructed by a team of expert doctors” sort of way. Your friend looks like someone shaved half of a peach and sprayed it with a thin layer of fake tan and Crisco. He even kind of has that “sort of looks like a butt” thing that peaches have.
Stop That
Please stop calling and bridging me into your conference call. Normally I would not mind it so much, however you’re bridging me in with yourself, two disinterested women, a busy four way intersection and what sounds like a Yeti getting a nipple pierced. While I may not be a certified engineer myself, I’m fairly confident that the Yeti can no way provide me with any relevant information with which to open a case for you. Unless your company is in the habit of storing all of your software serial numbers on Yetis and he’s trained to bark out the numbers on command.
I assume the nipple piercing is so you have something to hang their employee ID badge on.
Like A Boss
Fairly quiet this evening….inside. Not so quiet outside on the other hand with the impending apocolypse or New Years or whatever. I find myself thankful to be behind 3 security doors and several floors above street level.
I did however spot one particularly amazing oddity on Granville. One lone wandering wildebeest that had such an amazing gap between how cool he looked and how cool he thought he looked that really I wanted to stop and offer a round of applause. In fact come to think of it, he was dressed exactly like Mr T. If Mr T was white and had an Abercrombie & Fitch modeling contract. He had the buzzed down Mohawk, the gold chains, the rings and the attitude even if it was hilariously misplaced coming from him. Sunglasses on to of course. Because if there’s one thing you need to worry about at 11pm in Vancouver in December it’s sun glare.
Still, he was strutting down the sidewalk like he owned this city and the only thing he could hear was Aerosmith.
Ok?
Thank you creepy robotic autodial preacher voice for your extensive and repeated well wishes for the New Year. It was very nice of you to call some odd 27 times across 5 different accounts to deliver your Speak & Spell message of good cheer. I too wish that “zero one over zero four” may bring all these wishes of cheer to me in the coming year.
Easy There
Me: “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”
SC: “IT SHOULD BE BOB!”
Are you blaming me for not being Bob? Or are you merely so intoxicated you can no longer internalize your thoughts? I mean, I guess I could say I’m Bob if it will make you feel better. I still can’t really help you with anything else though. But I mean if you just need a Bob, any Bob, I could sub in for a minute if you need me too.
Perhaps The Greatest Answer Ever
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “POWERCELL FACEMASK”
O…okay? I’m not sure if that’s the worst answer or the best answer I’ve ever heard to that question. I’m going to assume that is your superhero name and you do not wish to reveal your secret identity to me. I’m assuming this because you sound like you’re about 10 years old. But very well, as my evidence is still circumstantial, I will play along with your charade for the time being.
Me: “Alright, and the item number please?”
SC: “POWERCELL FACEMASK”
…..riiiight, yeah. You’re definitely 10.
Me: “I need the item number for the product, please.”
SC: “I don’t have dat, my mom isn't home. She went to the store.”
You’re really not very good at this.
Encore
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Arson”
ARSON WRISTSPIKE?
Me: “Right, how old are you?”
SC: “Um….uh...19?”
Months?
annnnd rest.
). I was a COBOL programmer for years, til I remarried & spent a decade and a half wondering the globe with a military hubby (mine, not someone else's 
), living in places I usually couldn't work at all, let alone in computers. As I try to get back in the job field and keep getting asked why I'm looking at clerical and other jobs when I have a computer degree, my stock answer starts with "Well, I'm a dinosaur in my chosen field". Now I don't think I can ever say that again without giggling uncontrollably. 
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