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Wherein We Face The CHALLENGE
Checking in. Not dead. Weather makes me wish I was. But sadly the sweet and temptingly cold embrace of death eludes me. Smack me if I'm repeating anything here. I'm not keeping quite as meticulous notes as I was before. >.>
Well There's The Problem
Me: “And your number please, ma’am?”
SC: “……uhhhhhh…..”
BUFFERING.
Expanding Our Portfolio
Me: “Was this regarding an emergency?”
SC: “No, actually. Do you guys run like….an adult website too?”
…….Yep! That’s us. Property management and porn. You have to diversify in this economy.
We Have A Plan
SC: “Are you a machine?”
I assure you sir, I am a real live human being just like yourself and am in no way merely a Cylon posing as a human to infiltrate your society as the spearhead of an overwhelming invasion force . Of course if I were a Cylon that’s exactly what I would say to convince you I’m not a Cylon. So I guess I can’t really convince you one way or another.
On the upside, if I were a Cylon I would have to take your order in order to maintain my cover anyway. So it seems you’re in luck, sir! Provided your order arrives before the invasion begins, anyhow.
Also, Go Fark Yourself
Me: “Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?”
SC: “Oh, I thought I was calling Pizza Hut!”
Me: “Sorry sir, you have the wrong number.”
SC: “That was a joke, son. Don’t you know what a joke is?”
Yes, sir. I know what a joke is. A joke is funny.
I Don't Know Why I Ask
Me: “Would you like anything else?”
SC: “PANTS!!!”
I suppose I walked into that one. However, I’m a little unsettled by the sheer desperate excitement in your voice I must admit. What is it with you guys and the pants up there? You order more than you could ever reasonably wear. Unless of course you were wearing several at the same time. Which given the climate up there I suppose wouldn’t be too surprising. But if that was the case, wouldn’t it be more practical to wear something other than jeans and sweatpants? Maybe some sort of insulated ski pants or something?
I understand it may not be particular fashionably…..unless…..are you wearing our pants over ski pants? Is that it? You don’t want to miss out on fashion so you just stretch them bad boys over your ski pants? So everyone up there is basically waddling around like the Stay Puff Mashmellow Man but at least they have stylish Roxxy sweats on?
Oh, Transit. You So Crazy.
Just a quick note for those of you using public transit this evening: Party Rock is only in the house till pulls up to a station with 4 cops waiting for it. Then Party Rock and its friends get hauled off the train and fined. Because Party Rock has made questionable life decisions that have led it to this point.
The Incident
Received several calls this evening from a woman claiming the air conditioner in the hallway had become an “electromagnetic generator” which was now causing all of her electronics to “emit dangerous radiation”. This irradiation was of course inducing headaches, dizziness, radiation burns and all manner of terrible affects on her and everyone living in the building. Thus she wanted someone to come down to the building to shut down this electromagnetic death field. Which is a perfectly reasonable alternative than “take an Aspirin” when you have a headache.
Unfortunately, as this is not an episode of LOST, I was unable to follow her deductions from “Headache” to “Obviously something nearby is generating an electromagnetic field of death causing the TV to irradiate me.”. Prompting her to hang up on me. She called back and immediately hung up a few more times just for good measure. At which point I assume she either succumbed to the electromagnetic field or it hurdled her back through time.
Specifics
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “….uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..8!”
...Technically correct, but acutely unhelpful. Perhaps I wasn’t specific enough. My apologies. Could I have your phone numbers please, sir?
Yeah!
“And your postal code please, sir?”
“It’s V-STOP IT EDDY!”
Yeah, Eddy! Knock it off! Geez. What’s wrong with you, man?
We Have A Sizuation
Stepping onto the Skytrain this evening I found myself in the midst of an alarmingly heated argument between 3 people over whether or not the word “Situation” contained the letter “Z”. This went on all the way downtown with Z’s champion holding out the entire time. Insisting it was in fact spelled “Sizuation”. Her conviction was so strong that by that point the other two guys agreed to disagree with her if only to stop having to put up with her arguing her flailing idiocy as gospel.
This is a weird city.
Wildlife
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “…..Nuuuuuhhhhh………………..I want order a fox with stripes.”
……..We must have really expanded its our merchandise in the latest catalog. Would you like any other specifically painted wildlife or is your heart set on us pin striping that particular canid? I’m sure if you’re willing to cover the shipping we could spray paint you an elk or something. Maybe a nice burgundy……or perhaps more of a vanilla cream? To match the drapes.
Me: “And your postal code please, sir?”
SC: “…….uuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh…………..nuh……..um…………………… ..uhhhhh…………………I forget.”
You’d best try to remember, sir. Whether or not I spend the next hour trying to paint zebra stripes on a squirming woodland creature depends on it.
SC: “What is postal code?”
You’ll pardon me sir, but I did ask “Are you calling to place an order?” not “Can you explain how Canada Post magically finds me and gives me hats?”. I appreciate that you have many questions about this magical world known as “Civilization” but I am not the one to teach you its mysterious ways. Mainly because I have a QA target of 5 minutes for this call and getting you up to speed would likely take several days and possibly colourful diagrams or even a sock puppet.
Its Not That Hard
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “….uhhhhh……”
Just say “Yes”. The correct answer is “Yes”. Don’t try to think about it you’ll only be more confused. It must be hard enough trying to figure out where my voice is coming from and how my entire body fits into the phone receiver. So let’s try and minimize the mental work load for you as much as possible here. The longer we can keep the ball out of your mental court the better me thinks.
Your brain seems to have tennis elbow.
Twat
Barring a tear in the space time continuum you have not been on hold for 45 minutes when you only called 5 minutes ago and the line has only been open for 10. If I am mistaken and you are in fact trapped in a tear in the space time continuum please accept my full apologies and accept our congratulations for discovering the scientific breakthrough of the century.
Neither Sleet nor Snow
Me: "Your order should arrive in about 2 weeks"
SC: “Uh, where do I pick it up?”
Me: “It will arrive at the closest post office.”
SC: “Oh, so it'll come to the one up the street? Or over at 7/11?"
Seeing as I am not a representative of Canada Post, I really don’t know. Perhaps you should try asking them? I hear they’re much more knowledgeable about this whole farfangled “mail” thing than we are.
SC: “Uh, so, when it comes in you'll call me, right?”
Oh, of course. After all, I am personally responsible for every aspect of the postal system. In fact I have a horse tied up outside just waiting to go the moment I get off of this call. As soon as you let me go, ma’am, I’ll be riding my way bareback down to the warehouse to personally retrieve the questionable assortment of clothing you requested. After which I will ride non-stop from here to Alberta by exchanging my horse at key Canada Post Pony Shacks across the country and jacking myself up on caffeine pills. Until I can hand deliver your dubious fashion choices directly to your doorstep.
Grape Smuggling
What would possess a man to stand around a Skytrain platform making a big show of himself stretching in ridiculous ways? Well, I don’t know but if you’d like to ask there’s a weird dude in creepy tight bicycle shorts at the station right now that’s readily available. It looks like he’s going to be there quite a while too. So no rush.
Oh, You!
Me: “And the card number please, sir?”
SC: “Oh…one sec…….oh wouldn’t you know it. I put it under the paper again! Just like I always do!”
Haha, yeah! I know, right? You do that all the time. It’s like clockwork, man. You’d think you’d be watching out for it by now.
So, we still on for lunch later?
I'll Look Into It
Me: “How may I help you?"
SC: “Good morning”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “This is a recording or a real human?”
Well sir, I’m not a recording but I’m not 100% sure if I’m a real human either. I can’t say as I’ve ever really checked. But I’ll tell you what, next time I talk to my mom I’ll ask her if she entered a valid product code within 30 days of my birth. I’d hate to think I’m not running Genuine Human here. Think of how many updates and patches I’d have missed by now.
Perhaps
Me: "Good evening, <company> tech support"
SC: “Yeah, can I get a cab?”
Well, that all depends on what sort of question you’re asking. If you were asking a practical question requesting that I send you a cab, then no, no you can’t because this is a tech support line and you're an idiot. But if you were asking a philosophical question as in can you, or can you not get a cab? Do cabs really exist? Or are they just a shared hallucination in our collective reality being experienced in the mind of a slumbering god? Well, then maybe. I guess? I don’t know. That’s much too deep a question for 2 in the morning, sir. Maybe you should try calling Pizza Hut. I bet they’d know. They answer that kind of question all the time.
Whoa
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “……whoa, uh….my name?”
Well, that’s the most “Hang on, lemme put the pipe down” answer I’ve received yet this evening.
THE CHALLENGE
I spent the transit ride in listening to a intense discussion about the Challenge™. Which began when a guy stepped onto the train and proclaimed “ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?!”. A question he was directing at his cell phone with total neglect for using his indoor voice. Thus began the strange discussion about the Challenge. Our furious friend was greatly anticipating the Challenge. But his compatriot on the other end of the line, Mark, seemed rather reluctant. Whether Mark was afraid of the Challenge itself, or the man with the cell phone talking about it, I’m not sure.
This discussion went on for some time, with Yelling Bull berating Mark for not being up to the Challenge. Yet there was never any mention of what the Challenge was. Was it an endurance hike? An arm wrestling tournament? A grueling winner takes all naked wet towel fight? Were they set to fight to the death using only plastic cutlery? We may never know. It was referred too only as The Challenge by Yelling Bull. Whilst poor Mark did everything he could to weasel out of said Challenge. Up to and including saying he didn’t have money for transit. Upon which Yelling Bull berated him for not having “$2.50 for this transformational life experience”.
In the end I never did learn what the Challenge was. Only that it was “grueling”, “intense”, “inexpensive” and “life changing”. So I’m going with naked wet towel fight.
annnd rest. -.-
Well There's The Problem
Me: “And your number please, ma’am?”
SC: “……uhhhhhh…..”
BUFFERING.
Expanding Our Portfolio
Me: “Was this regarding an emergency?”
SC: “No, actually. Do you guys run like….an adult website too?”
…….Yep! That’s us. Property management and porn. You have to diversify in this economy.
We Have A Plan
SC: “Are you a machine?”
I assure you sir, I am a real live human being just like yourself and am in no way merely a Cylon posing as a human to infiltrate your society as the spearhead of an overwhelming invasion force . Of course if I were a Cylon that’s exactly what I would say to convince you I’m not a Cylon. So I guess I can’t really convince you one way or another.
On the upside, if I were a Cylon I would have to take your order in order to maintain my cover anyway. So it seems you’re in luck, sir! Provided your order arrives before the invasion begins, anyhow.
Also, Go Fark Yourself
Me: “Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?”
SC: “Oh, I thought I was calling Pizza Hut!”
Me: “Sorry sir, you have the wrong number.”
SC: “That was a joke, son. Don’t you know what a joke is?”
Yes, sir. I know what a joke is. A joke is funny.
I Don't Know Why I Ask
Me: “Would you like anything else?”
SC: “PANTS!!!”
I suppose I walked into that one. However, I’m a little unsettled by the sheer desperate excitement in your voice I must admit. What is it with you guys and the pants up there? You order more than you could ever reasonably wear. Unless of course you were wearing several at the same time. Which given the climate up there I suppose wouldn’t be too surprising. But if that was the case, wouldn’t it be more practical to wear something other than jeans and sweatpants? Maybe some sort of insulated ski pants or something?
I understand it may not be particular fashionably…..unless…..are you wearing our pants over ski pants? Is that it? You don’t want to miss out on fashion so you just stretch them bad boys over your ski pants? So everyone up there is basically waddling around like the Stay Puff Mashmellow Man but at least they have stylish Roxxy sweats on?
Oh, Transit. You So Crazy.
Just a quick note for those of you using public transit this evening: Party Rock is only in the house till pulls up to a station with 4 cops waiting for it. Then Party Rock and its friends get hauled off the train and fined. Because Party Rock has made questionable life decisions that have led it to this point.
The Incident
Received several calls this evening from a woman claiming the air conditioner in the hallway had become an “electromagnetic generator” which was now causing all of her electronics to “emit dangerous radiation”. This irradiation was of course inducing headaches, dizziness, radiation burns and all manner of terrible affects on her and everyone living in the building. Thus she wanted someone to come down to the building to shut down this electromagnetic death field. Which is a perfectly reasonable alternative than “take an Aspirin” when you have a headache.
Unfortunately, as this is not an episode of LOST, I was unable to follow her deductions from “Headache” to “Obviously something nearby is generating an electromagnetic field of death causing the TV to irradiate me.”. Prompting her to hang up on me. She called back and immediately hung up a few more times just for good measure. At which point I assume she either succumbed to the electromagnetic field or it hurdled her back through time.
Specifics
Me: “And your phone number please, sir?”
SC: “….uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..8!”
...Technically correct, but acutely unhelpful. Perhaps I wasn’t specific enough. My apologies. Could I have your phone numbers please, sir?
Yeah!
“And your postal code please, sir?”
“It’s V-STOP IT EDDY!”
Yeah, Eddy! Knock it off! Geez. What’s wrong with you, man?
We Have A Sizuation
Stepping onto the Skytrain this evening I found myself in the midst of an alarmingly heated argument between 3 people over whether or not the word “Situation” contained the letter “Z”. This went on all the way downtown with Z’s champion holding out the entire time. Insisting it was in fact spelled “Sizuation”. Her conviction was so strong that by that point the other two guys agreed to disagree with her if only to stop having to put up with her arguing her flailing idiocy as gospel.
This is a weird city.
Wildlife
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “…..Nuuuuuhhhhh………………..I want order a fox with stripes.”
……..We must have really expanded its our merchandise in the latest catalog. Would you like any other specifically painted wildlife or is your heart set on us pin striping that particular canid? I’m sure if you’re willing to cover the shipping we could spray paint you an elk or something. Maybe a nice burgundy……or perhaps more of a vanilla cream? To match the drapes.
Me: “And your postal code please, sir?”
SC: “…….uuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh…………..nuh……..um…………………… ..uhhhhh…………………I forget.”
You’d best try to remember, sir. Whether or not I spend the next hour trying to paint zebra stripes on a squirming woodland creature depends on it.
SC: “What is postal code?”
You’ll pardon me sir, but I did ask “Are you calling to place an order?” not “Can you explain how Canada Post magically finds me and gives me hats?”. I appreciate that you have many questions about this magical world known as “Civilization” but I am not the one to teach you its mysterious ways. Mainly because I have a QA target of 5 minutes for this call and getting you up to speed would likely take several days and possibly colourful diagrams or even a sock puppet.
Its Not That Hard
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “….uhhhhh……”
Just say “Yes”. The correct answer is “Yes”. Don’t try to think about it you’ll only be more confused. It must be hard enough trying to figure out where my voice is coming from and how my entire body fits into the phone receiver. So let’s try and minimize the mental work load for you as much as possible here. The longer we can keep the ball out of your mental court the better me thinks.
Your brain seems to have tennis elbow.
Twat
Barring a tear in the space time continuum you have not been on hold for 45 minutes when you only called 5 minutes ago and the line has only been open for 10. If I am mistaken and you are in fact trapped in a tear in the space time continuum please accept my full apologies and accept our congratulations for discovering the scientific breakthrough of the century.
Neither Sleet nor Snow
Me: "Your order should arrive in about 2 weeks"
SC: “Uh, where do I pick it up?”
Me: “It will arrive at the closest post office.”
SC: “Oh, so it'll come to the one up the street? Or over at 7/11?"
Seeing as I am not a representative of Canada Post, I really don’t know. Perhaps you should try asking them? I hear they’re much more knowledgeable about this whole farfangled “mail” thing than we are.
SC: “Uh, so, when it comes in you'll call me, right?”
Oh, of course. After all, I am personally responsible for every aspect of the postal system. In fact I have a horse tied up outside just waiting to go the moment I get off of this call. As soon as you let me go, ma’am, I’ll be riding my way bareback down to the warehouse to personally retrieve the questionable assortment of clothing you requested. After which I will ride non-stop from here to Alberta by exchanging my horse at key Canada Post Pony Shacks across the country and jacking myself up on caffeine pills. Until I can hand deliver your dubious fashion choices directly to your doorstep.
Grape Smuggling
What would possess a man to stand around a Skytrain platform making a big show of himself stretching in ridiculous ways? Well, I don’t know but if you’d like to ask there’s a weird dude in creepy tight bicycle shorts at the station right now that’s readily available. It looks like he’s going to be there quite a while too. So no rush.
Oh, You!
Me: “And the card number please, sir?”
SC: “Oh…one sec…….oh wouldn’t you know it. I put it under the paper again! Just like I always do!”
Haha, yeah! I know, right? You do that all the time. It’s like clockwork, man. You’d think you’d be watching out for it by now.
So, we still on for lunch later?
I'll Look Into It
Me: “How may I help you?"
SC: “Good morning”
Me: “Hi”
SC: “This is a recording or a real human?”
Well sir, I’m not a recording but I’m not 100% sure if I’m a real human either. I can’t say as I’ve ever really checked. But I’ll tell you what, next time I talk to my mom I’ll ask her if she entered a valid product code within 30 days of my birth. I’d hate to think I’m not running Genuine Human here. Think of how many updates and patches I’d have missed by now.
Perhaps
Me: "Good evening, <company> tech support"
SC: “Yeah, can I get a cab?”
Well, that all depends on what sort of question you’re asking. If you were asking a practical question requesting that I send you a cab, then no, no you can’t because this is a tech support line and you're an idiot. But if you were asking a philosophical question as in can you, or can you not get a cab? Do cabs really exist? Or are they just a shared hallucination in our collective reality being experienced in the mind of a slumbering god? Well, then maybe. I guess? I don’t know. That’s much too deep a question for 2 in the morning, sir. Maybe you should try calling Pizza Hut. I bet they’d know. They answer that kind of question all the time.
Whoa
Me: “And your name please, sir?”
SC: “……whoa, uh….my name?”
Well, that’s the most “Hang on, lemme put the pipe down” answer I’ve received yet this evening.
THE CHALLENGE
I spent the transit ride in listening to a intense discussion about the Challenge™. Which began when a guy stepped onto the train and proclaimed “ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?!”. A question he was directing at his cell phone with total neglect for using his indoor voice. Thus began the strange discussion about the Challenge. Our furious friend was greatly anticipating the Challenge. But his compatriot on the other end of the line, Mark, seemed rather reluctant. Whether Mark was afraid of the Challenge itself, or the man with the cell phone talking about it, I’m not sure.
This discussion went on for some time, with Yelling Bull berating Mark for not being up to the Challenge. Yet there was never any mention of what the Challenge was. Was it an endurance hike? An arm wrestling tournament? A grueling winner takes all naked wet towel fight? Were they set to fight to the death using only plastic cutlery? We may never know. It was referred too only as The Challenge by Yelling Bull. Whilst poor Mark did everything he could to weasel out of said Challenge. Up to and including saying he didn’t have money for transit. Upon which Yelling Bull berated him for not having “$2.50 for this transformational life experience”.
In the end I never did learn what the Challenge was. Only that it was “grueling”, “intense”, “inexpensive” and “life changing”. So I’m going with naked wet towel fight.
annnd rest. -.-
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