I know, you probably thought I dropped off the face of the earth or exploded from the sheer amount of stupid I've had to ingest over the last few days.
You wish.
Let me introduce you to the oh-so-short and dumbness I'd like to call Jenn. Jenn, apparently, feels that she is 'above' contractual agreements that were set up buy our marvelous (and costly!) legal team which she, herself, admits she signed without reading.
Yep. For all she knows, she just signed her soul to Satan (Dude, again, sorry, she's a real bitch, I'm pretty sure YOU don't want her either) or agreed to be the first experiment in a brand new strain of bubonic plague. OR agreed to be euthanized on behalf of some murderer on death row.
Yeah.
She went to a party a few weeks ago. Tra la la lots of lolz hooray OK I'll sign this giggle giggle.
Person at party (wanting to profit, GEE I WONDER WHY) didn't bother to explain what signing the papers mean. That's fine. We prefer they DO, but I mean fuck. There's one small paragraph you read of maybe 10 lines and then you sign the paper. I'd be more scared shitless of clicking "OK" on a four page apple iphone update than 10 fucking lines.
So, she doesn't read it and blindly signs it. Party Patty signs her up for our required 4 month agreement. Patty has assumed Jenn has read the legal agreement and agrees to the terms. GEE. I WONDER WHY.
SO month 1 goes by and Jenn is all ^.^ YAY! as she got her product.
Month 2 goes by and Jenn is suddenly all "OH PRAISE THEE MIGHTY PRODUCT OF DOG SHIT, HOW I ADORE THEE... DAFUQ? ANOTHER PACKAGE?!" RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGEEEEEEEEEE.
..So she calls our wonderful CSR's to ... I dunno. Threaten? HAHA.
Me: Hi, I would bitchslap you if I knew you. What do you want?
Jenn: I WANT TO TALK TO A SUPERVISOR.
Me:All right, before I can do that, I need an account to reference.
Jenn: 666666666663454546w34534534 aaarrrg! GIMME SUPERVISOR.
Me: Just a moment. to verify this is correct, I need your address and the last 4 of your credit card.
Jenn: blalhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.aaarrrgggggggggggggg smashhhhhhhhhh.
Me: What seems to be the problem? *shaking hawaiian punch, yawning, oogling hot guy walking by*
Jenn: I gots a one time order to trys the product. (I'm serious. She pluraled every..fucking..word she could)
Me: I'm sorry?
Jenn: No I likes. I just only wants one.
Me: I do apologize, when you signed up for the order, the paper you filled out and signed with your signature?
Jenn: whats about it? I wants my money.
Me: -pistol in mouthsssssss because apparently I have two now-
Jenn: Yeah I signed it.
Me: Did you... read..... what you signed?
Jenn: Da order form? Of course. I hads to fill it out.
Me: When you got to the paragraph above where you signed... did you read the 10 lines?
Jenn: (I had to use mute after this, because of that internet meme shit of the black woman) Ain't nobody got time for dat shit.
Me: *dying*Well, had you read the paragraph, it would have told you that by signing below you agree to the terms and conditions applied that in order to receive our dog shit at the wholesale price instead of retail, you would agree to 4 monthly shipments that are required before you could cancel and just place one-time orders.
Jenn: ...whatchoo mean?
Me: Did you sign the paper?
Jenn: ... yes. Why? She say I needs it for the order.
Me: Yes, that is correct, however... the order locked you into a 4 month agreement.
Jenn: Dat paper ain't say nothin like dat.
Me: ...*keels over and dies* Did you... get a copy?
Jenn: Yes.
Me: Have it on you?
Jenn: Right now and it don't say nothin about...
Me: ..are you still there?
Jenn:WHY DO IT SAY DIS SHIT ABOUT 4 MONTHS NOW? DIDN'T SAY THAT BEFORE!
Me: I'm *jazz hands* MAGIC.
Jenn: HOW YOU MAKE DIS APPEAR?!
Me: ... it was there all along?
-at this point, I'm IMing one of the leads in our department and he actually walks over to listen to me talk and he's almost in stitches laughing because I put the volume all the way up on 10 and he could hear her. He's shaking his head and actually has laughter tears in his eyes*
Jenn: OH NO IT WASN'T. DIS ISN'T THE PAPER I SIGN.
Me: Is the order information on it correct? The shipping, billing addresses? Your card information? Date of birth, contact phone number?
Jenn: Yes.
Me: Is it your signature?
Jenn: yes.
Me: ...then you entered blindly into an agreement, is my guess. While we ask our distributors to mention the obligation, it isn't required and it's assumed that when a person places an order they actually read into the agreement prior to signing on the line because for all you know, you just signed a deal to sell us your first born child.
Jenn: Dat ain't funny.
Me: ...it was an example. That if you sign something you don't read, you never know what you're agreeing to do or buy or sell.
Jenn:...
-meanwhile, lead has pat my back and walked away, hopefully going to get me alcohol to cope with the after glow of this wonderfully dumb personality. too bad he never returned.bastard.-
Jenn: sssooo whatchoo sayin is thats I agreed to dis even though I didn't?
Me: *drawing stars on paper*That's correct. By signing your name you blindly agreed.
Jenn: So fix it.
Me: As much as I would love to, I feel like pissing you off so I'm going to remind you that it *is* a legally binding agreement and no matter how much caterwauling you do, I can't just magically break the agreement you signed otherwise chaos will ensue. You'll get your way, someone else you know will sign now knowing and try to pull this same stunt. the world will thusly explode and we'll see Jim Parsons in drag as Frank N Furter.
-To be honest, I didn't find that out till I got home which because one of my friends knows him is pretty fucking dope and to be honest, he did a kick-ass job in the shadows of Tim Curry's 1970's Frankie.-
Jenn: I want out.
Me: I'm sorry, even if I did forward this call to a supervisor, they would just remind you of the agreement you have just told me you -did- sign over the phone.
Jenn: THEN I'LL SAY I NEVER DID IT.
Me: When you called in, did you get a message while on hold?
Jenn: Yeah.
Me: Did it say... "for quality assurance this call will be monitored"
Jenn: Nobody does dat.
Me: Actually, we DO record every call for quality assurance. Plus in a case of a dispute, we can pull the actual call up and review it when there is a dispute. So to be clear, you said earlier you signed it and now you're going to say you never did?
Jenn: Ain't bein recorded. Nothing shit is being recorded.
Me: Unfortunately for you, we *do* record every call.
Jenn: GET ME SUPERVISOR.
-at this point, former boxer Bill who is a kick ASS supervisor walks over and sees me in stitches laughing. I tell him this is likely a supervisor call escalation and Bill gets excited. So I send him the ID number and he takes the call at the seat right next to me for amusement assurance-
Bill: This is Bill O'maigosh, a member of the supervisor escalation team. I hear that you wish to dispute the customer agreement you signed?
ME:KILL BILL KILL BILL!
Bill: *stabs me* Ah yeah mmhmm. Well if you wish to say you didn't sign it, we can just review this call initiated by you and check for discrepancy if you wish.
Me: *pee* -no really, I went to the bathroom and returned to him still on the line with her-
Bill: Yeah, well. I have quality assurance actually listening to the call as we go right now and apparently you -did- say you signed it and threatened our CSR by saying you'd lie. You do realize that if you wish to cancel, you can pay a membership... ok fine. You don't wish to pay that. Then I'm going to say that you have to complete 2 more shipments before you may cancel.
Me: EEEEEE!! KILL BILLLLLLL.
Bill: Apparently, Jenn, you did admit you did not read the paper you signed and told our agent you would lie. IF you wish to contact a lawyer that is your call, the same with the BBB. I will just say that if you do decide to go that route, this conversation will be sent not only to your lawyer, but our legal team and the BBB as well. You might say that it's under duress that you admitted to initially signing the paper, but this conversation and the fact you stated quite clearly that you would LIE to us will likely be devastating in court. AND if you did lose, you would not only be responsible for the court costs, but also the regular agreement that you signed.
Me:Giggitygiggity.
Bill: Oh, well, I see. Then I do apologize, as you do not wish to pay a membership fee in lieu of the shipments, I can not cancel the automatic shipment until you complete the agreement....
Me: EEEEEEEE!!!
Bill: *looks at me* She said she wasn't going to cancel. OR pay. And she hung up after screaming she was calling BBB and the lawyer. I see this going. Nowhere.
Me: She got boring.
Bill: Yeah, she did. She lost steam by the time I got to her. Pity.
Me: DUDE SHE WAS ABOUT TO GO EXORCIST ON ME. I ALMOST PISSED MYSELF LAUGHING.
Bill: Better get that looked at.
Me: I KNOW RIGHT?
So, kids. when you decide to sign something you don't want to read, don't get pissed off at me for your idiocy.
READ. EVERYTHING.
Because damnit, that ferrari you promised to buy me after signing the contract sounded so nice and now i'm pissed that i'm not getting what you legally agreed to get me.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
New Caller Caveat
Because I'm on the rag and being a complete bitch and not in an entirely fun way at all, I'm going to offer you, the caller, some HANDY advise when calling and thinking you are about to go medieval bitchass on me because you're a dumbfuck who did something wrong and blames it on us.
YOU DO NOT KNOW WHO WE REALLY ARE ON THE OTHER END. HOWEVER, WE KNOW WHERE THE FUCK YOU LIVE, YOUR EMAIL, YOUR PHONE NUMBER AND ANY OTHER INFORMATION YOU GIVE TO US.
So my dear friends, consider this a nice reminder.
WE. KNOW. WHERE. YOU. LIVE.
Seriously? Do you think I SHIVER and cry when I'm told "I will call your boss and get you fired!" First off - we're an outsourced company. So go ahead. call the CEO of the company we answer calls for. HE'S NOT MY BOSS!
Second, for security reasons, we don't even tell you where the hell we're really located.
Third? My real boss thinks you're a troll in real life and SO wanted to take that supervised call yesterday when you decided to go infantile on me but you know what? You hung up so apparently
it wasn't that important.
So we'll just let you go ahead and return that package you don't want and oh right. You're responsible for the return shipping either way and no, we will not reimburse the shipping OR taxes because legally, we are unable to do so. Especially when it is NOT a customer service error, but you thinking that you can go in and 'zero' out a cart on an order for an automatic shipment.
Now a convo with me and Cole (another co-worker) in regard to this call.
Me: You think these people would be smarter especially since we know where they live.
Cole: Haha right? Don't worry; I want to go burn their houses down, too.
Me: Oh, no. I don't want to burn the houses down. I just want to hit this one in the face.
Cole: Right.
Me: ...with a billy club.
Cole: *dies*
YOU DO NOT KNOW WHO WE REALLY ARE ON THE OTHER END. HOWEVER, WE KNOW WHERE THE FUCK YOU LIVE, YOUR EMAIL, YOUR PHONE NUMBER AND ANY OTHER INFORMATION YOU GIVE TO US.
So my dear friends, consider this a nice reminder.
WE. KNOW. WHERE. YOU. LIVE.
Seriously? Do you think I SHIVER and cry when I'm told "I will call your boss and get you fired!" First off - we're an outsourced company. So go ahead. call the CEO of the company we answer calls for. HE'S NOT MY BOSS!
Second, for security reasons, we don't even tell you where the hell we're really located.
Third? My real boss thinks you're a troll in real life and SO wanted to take that supervised call yesterday when you decided to go infantile on me but you know what? You hung up so apparently
it wasn't that important.
So we'll just let you go ahead and return that package you don't want and oh right. You're responsible for the return shipping either way and no, we will not reimburse the shipping OR taxes because legally, we are unable to do so. Especially when it is NOT a customer service error, but you thinking that you can go in and 'zero' out a cart on an order for an automatic shipment.
Now a convo with me and Cole (another co-worker) in regard to this call.
Me: You think these people would be smarter especially since we know where they live.
Cole: Haha right? Don't worry; I want to go burn their houses down, too.
Me: Oh, no. I don't want to burn the houses down. I just want to hit this one in the face.
Cole: Right.
Me: ...with a billy club.
Cole: *dies*
Friday, March 15, 2013
The softer side
OK, so some of my friends think I'm coming off as a heartless bitch and as stellar as that really is and I'm proud to be perceived that way a la this blog, I really do have a softer side. So. Tonight I'm going to share the squishy good and this is only a one time thing so don't go thinking that yesterday's phone call fucked me up something good.
It didn't.
I wanted more today but goddamnit. For the 'busiest day of the month' I was rather ...bored.
This is short. Very.
So.
I'm filling it with fodder if you can't tell.
I took down this woman's real name and city she lives in. I want to search for her on facebook so I can see who that precious soul was who broke down sobbing on the line to me because things in her life were -that- fucked up suddenly.
My heart really broke for her. Seriously. When I hung up it was thankfully my lunch break and I was able to just ... absorb what I did and what a really good person I can be when I'm not channeling my inner evil ginger.
Fuck you. I'm not using her real name or location.
I'm not that heartless.
Me: And thank you for calling the I don't give a crap line. How can I help you?
Her: My name is Sonya. My ID number is 4545454545454.4543454353453234 1/2.
Me: Thank you, Sonya. May I verify your account with the last 4 of your card and address.
Sonya: 123 Happy Lane, Happyville USA 12345.
--I know that's Schenectady, fuck off ya schwab--
Me: How may I help you, Sonya?
Sonya: I need to cancel my automatic shipments and cancel my account.
Me: All right I'd be slapped happy to do that, may I ask why you want to cancel?
Sonya: My husband-- told me..to. He doesn't want me...having it anymore.
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. I can do that for you.
Sonya: He.. he lost his *crying now fuck I wanna cry too* job this morning and he was laid off and I..I'm sorry I'm so emotional.
Me: *getting pissed the page I need to load isn't* I understand. I'm terribly sorry to hear that. It'll get better; I promise.
Sonya: It doesn't feel it.
Me: My friend John taught me something. You like ice cream?
Sonya: Yes.
Me: Get sad when the ice cream in a cone is gone?
Sonya: Yeah.
Me: ...isn't the cone just as sweet?
Sonya: Well, yes, it is. Why?
Me: Don't you see? Even when the good -appears- gone, there is always something good there. You just need to "look for the cone". You still have your husband by your side, right?
Sonya: Well.. yeah. I do. I never looked at it like that.
Me: In the worst of situations, there is always SOMETHING good. You have him and he has you. That's a starting point for things to get better. It might take a while, but I swear things will get better.
Sonya: Thank you, that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me.
Me: I went ahead and cancelled the orders.
Sonya: If things improve I promise I'll be back.
Me: WHEN things Improve, I do hope I get your call.
Sonya: Thank you, Ginger, you made me feel better. I hope you have a wonderful weekend.
Me: You too, Sonya. Take care.
So. Fuck you.
I'm a saint when I wanna be.
It didn't.
I wanted more today but goddamnit. For the 'busiest day of the month' I was rather ...bored.
This is short. Very.
So.
I'm filling it with fodder if you can't tell.
I took down this woman's real name and city she lives in. I want to search for her on facebook so I can see who that precious soul was who broke down sobbing on the line to me because things in her life were -that- fucked up suddenly.
My heart really broke for her. Seriously. When I hung up it was thankfully my lunch break and I was able to just ... absorb what I did and what a really good person I can be when I'm not channeling my inner evil ginger.
Fuck you. I'm not using her real name or location.
I'm not that heartless.
Me: And thank you for calling the I don't give a crap line. How can I help you?
Her: My name is Sonya. My ID number is 4545454545454.4543454353453234 1/2.
Me: Thank you, Sonya. May I verify your account with the last 4 of your card and address.
Sonya: 123 Happy Lane, Happyville USA 12345.
--I know that's Schenectady, fuck off ya schwab--
Me: How may I help you, Sonya?
Sonya: I need to cancel my automatic shipments and cancel my account.
Me: All right I'd be slapped happy to do that, may I ask why you want to cancel?
Sonya: My husband-- told me..to. He doesn't want me...having it anymore.
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. I can do that for you.
Sonya: He.. he lost his *crying now fuck I wanna cry too* job this morning and he was laid off and I..I'm sorry I'm so emotional.
Me: *getting pissed the page I need to load isn't* I understand. I'm terribly sorry to hear that. It'll get better; I promise.
Sonya: It doesn't feel it.
Me: My friend John taught me something. You like ice cream?
Sonya: Yes.
Me: Get sad when the ice cream in a cone is gone?
Sonya: Yeah.
Me: ...isn't the cone just as sweet?
Sonya: Well, yes, it is. Why?
Me: Don't you see? Even when the good -appears- gone, there is always something good there. You just need to "look for the cone". You still have your husband by your side, right?
Sonya: Well.. yeah. I do. I never looked at it like that.
Me: In the worst of situations, there is always SOMETHING good. You have him and he has you. That's a starting point for things to get better. It might take a while, but I swear things will get better.
Sonya: Thank you, that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me.
Me: I went ahead and cancelled the orders.
Sonya: If things improve I promise I'll be back.
Me: WHEN things Improve, I do hope I get your call.
Sonya: Thank you, Ginger, you made me feel better. I hope you have a wonderful weekend.
Me: You too, Sonya. Take care.
So. Fuck you.
I'm a saint when I wanna be.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Bienvenido a los Estados Unidos FUCKER.
OH this call is the top dog. Seriously, kids. I'm pretty fucking sure that after I share this 54 minute delightful mother-fucking scrumpet you will tip your hats to me and just concede that I am the motherlovin bomb. No, it won't take you that fucking long to deal with it because for about Ohhhhh 30 minutes of it, the call was pretty average.
And by that I mean the woman speaking spanish to another woman on the line was calling me a stupid gringo and I can't help but wonder how the fuck she determined I'm black based on my voice.
DOES THIS MEAN I'M SO WHITE MY VOICE SHOWS IT?!
ANYWAY.
So, let's forget the fact that I do speak limited spanish. K? K. I'll spare you the whole conversation thing like I normally do because fuck it. If I have to go through -that- hell again I'm gonna bust a cap in the ass of this computer. It's new so let's not.
Plus I'm on limited time tonight as it IS Steak and BJ day. (AKA Pi day)
We signed up 3 people under her after she bitched to me, bitched to the person she was speaking with about how after regular hours we had no spanish speaking person to appease her ass. Sorry. YOU ARE IN THE US PREASEA SPEAKA DA ENGRISH.
I just lost 2 of my 3 followers posting that.
SO we have these things called bonus points. That can be used on a percentage of the products we provide. Sometimes 100%, sometimes 80%. Just depends on what size bag of shit you want to order.
Ya dig? So. I explain how those points work and how you MUST PAY TAX, SHIPPING AND ANYTHING THAT IS CONSIDERED AN OVERAGE. IT IS NOT FREE PRODUCT.
She has me place the order with all 200 of her points. YAY! That's not the real number, I'm just a lazy twat who pulled that number outta my ass. So. she tells me what she wants. I do it.
At this point I'm about to shoot myself in the foot just to go home because it's now 5 minutes before
clock out time and goddamnit I have family at home waiting on me to wreck THEIR day.
So, I tell her the total and get permission to apply the order. I tell her it went through.
Her: AH siii gooooood.
Me: Quite.
Now she asks to cash in some other reward we offer. Now, HER DISTRIBUTOR TELLS HER THAT IT'S FREE PRODUCT.
It's good for a product at like 60% off. SO she tells me to place THAT order. I do. She blesses me with permission to place it. SO I do. Points gone. poof.
THEN SHE BACKTRACKS AND TELLS ME TO GO CANCEL BOTH ORDERS AND TO PLACE ANOTHER ORDER IN ITS PLACE.
..The points are still registered on the first cancelled order.
I look at the clock. It's now 8:10. I'm LATE for punching out and getting pissed off.
Me: *Hulk smash*
Her: Ahh siii please for to of placing order for size of dog shit and monkey dung please. is free?
Me: .. no. You still are responsible for tax, shipping and difference. Cunt. *muff punt*
Her: SO... free!
Me: Hola me llamo estupida los primero! siiii me dijo que no es libre ES libre ayyyyy.
Her: SO free no?
Me: ... no.
Her: Why is no free?
Me: mmm no. no is free.
--fuck you, I know one of you assholes get that joke--
Her: Whyyyy is no free? Is free product no?
Me:... towards the percentage I explained.
Her: Hm please why not give me free?
Me: ..I'M NOT THE FUCKING CEO.
Her: Is free now for me now right?
Me: .dafuq.
Her: Is free. Good.
Me: *thanking God that it's recorded* No, ma'am it is NOT free. No free. NO LIBRE. COST DINERO.
Her: Mmm OK. I think I make order of this now.
Me: ... using the points?
Her: SI! You cancel old order make this?
Me: Mind if I place you on mute--hold while I take care of this?
Her: Si.
--I not only placed her ass on HOLD, I also placed her ass on mute and looked at the cute Joe next to me and went on a solid 5 minute rant and he laughed. So Did I. It was worth it. Then I submitted my ticket to have the order placed with the points and thank fucking god I calmed my ass down before I told her to speak english in america--
Me: I'm back. Thanks for holding.
Her: Is order now for place?
Me: yes. anything else I can help you with?
Her: Mmm no no thank you.
Me: Good! Go to he--
Her: Oh one more ting please?
Me: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.
Her: I get pay tomorrow no? I get paid early? is given in cash check no?
Me: .. no. it's on a debit card or you can transfer funds to your bank.
Her: Oh so i get more free credits! I buy more!
Me: No. IT'S MONEY. YOU PUT IT IN THE BANK.
Her: what no free product?
Me: GHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh. KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNN.
Her: Ok. I make free buy tomorrow.
Me: IT's MONEY. on credit card! that you use. to pay.
Her: Oh no is check?
Me: dafuq.
Her: So is free product money check for order?
Me: MONEY. NOT FREE PRODUCT.
Her: ... oh. is money I put in my bank?
Me: Yes.
Her: FOR free product!
Me: NO!
--Joe cute guy is lancing the veins that have burst on my neck at this point--
Her: Oh what is then?
Me: You know the credit card you use to buy groceries?
Her: OH SI!
Me: Free groceries?
Her: No. Is pay.
Me: THE FUCKING SAME YOU ILLEGAL ALIEN.
Her: I not from US.
Me: YOU DON'T SAY.
Her: I come here few month back.
Me: ...
Her: Is nice here. I no need job.
Me: dafuq.
Her: They give me credit card. Insurances for the health. Even pay for house and bill. Give money which I pay credit card to make purchase of product that you give for free.
ME: *feet on desk* GOOOOOOOD BLESSSSSSSS AMERICAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LAAAAAAND THAAAAAAAT I LOATHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Her: Is great not to have job no?
Me: ..this is my job?
Her: OH you servant to us!
Me: Fucking shoot me now.
Her: You open 24 hr?
Me: No we closed about 20 minutes ago.
Her: Oh I ask few more question. You no mind?
Me: of course not.
Her: Oh. Kay. I want to know.. never of minding. I go now is late grandson need sleep.
Me: FUCK YES.
Her: Thank you for help. Have nice night.
--at this point I don't recall punching out but I did. Cute guy Joe talked with me and walked me to my car. Then he headed to his and I went home. With a gallon of whiskey. That I just polished in the ten minutes it took to post this--
Fucka you.
And by that I mean the woman speaking spanish to another woman on the line was calling me a stupid gringo and I can't help but wonder how the fuck she determined I'm black based on my voice.
DOES THIS MEAN I'M SO WHITE MY VOICE SHOWS IT?!
ANYWAY.
So, let's forget the fact that I do speak limited spanish. K? K. I'll spare you the whole conversation thing like I normally do because fuck it. If I have to go through -that- hell again I'm gonna bust a cap in the ass of this computer. It's new so let's not.
Plus I'm on limited time tonight as it IS Steak and BJ day. (AKA Pi day)
We signed up 3 people under her after she bitched to me, bitched to the person she was speaking with about how after regular hours we had no spanish speaking person to appease her ass. Sorry. YOU ARE IN THE US PREASEA SPEAKA DA ENGRISH.
I just lost 2 of my 3 followers posting that.
SO we have these things called bonus points. That can be used on a percentage of the products we provide. Sometimes 100%, sometimes 80%. Just depends on what size bag of shit you want to order.
Ya dig? So. I explain how those points work and how you MUST PAY TAX, SHIPPING AND ANYTHING THAT IS CONSIDERED AN OVERAGE. IT IS NOT FREE PRODUCT.
She has me place the order with all 200 of her points. YAY! That's not the real number, I'm just a lazy twat who pulled that number outta my ass. So. she tells me what she wants. I do it.
At this point I'm about to shoot myself in the foot just to go home because it's now 5 minutes before
clock out time and goddamnit I have family at home waiting on me to wreck THEIR day.
So, I tell her the total and get permission to apply the order. I tell her it went through.
Her: AH siii gooooood.
Me: Quite.
Now she asks to cash in some other reward we offer. Now, HER DISTRIBUTOR TELLS HER THAT IT'S FREE PRODUCT.
It's good for a product at like 60% off. SO she tells me to place THAT order. I do. She blesses me with permission to place it. SO I do. Points gone. poof.
THEN SHE BACKTRACKS AND TELLS ME TO GO CANCEL BOTH ORDERS AND TO PLACE ANOTHER ORDER IN ITS PLACE.
..The points are still registered on the first cancelled order.
I look at the clock. It's now 8:10. I'm LATE for punching out and getting pissed off.
Me: *Hulk smash*
Her: Ahh siii please for to of placing order for size of dog shit and monkey dung please. is free?
Me: .. no. You still are responsible for tax, shipping and difference. Cunt. *muff punt*
Her: SO... free!
Me: Hola me llamo estupida los primero! siiii me dijo que no es libre ES libre ayyyyy.
Her: SO free no?
Me: ... no.
Her: Why is no free?
Me: mmm no. no is free.
--fuck you, I know one of you assholes get that joke--
Her: Whyyyy is no free? Is free product no?
Me:... towards the percentage I explained.
Her: Hm please why not give me free?
Me: ..I'M NOT THE FUCKING CEO.
Her: Is free now for me now right?
Me: .dafuq.
Her: Is free. Good.
Me: *thanking God that it's recorded* No, ma'am it is NOT free. No free. NO LIBRE. COST DINERO.
Her: Mmm OK. I think I make order of this now.
Me: ... using the points?
Her: SI! You cancel old order make this?
Me: Mind if I place you on mute--hold while I take care of this?
Her: Si.
--I not only placed her ass on HOLD, I also placed her ass on mute and looked at the cute Joe next to me and went on a solid 5 minute rant and he laughed. So Did I. It was worth it. Then I submitted my ticket to have the order placed with the points and thank fucking god I calmed my ass down before I told her to speak english in america--
Me: I'm back. Thanks for holding.
Her: Is order now for place?
Me: yes. anything else I can help you with?
Her: Mmm no no thank you.
Me: Good! Go to he--
Her: Oh one more ting please?
Me: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.
Her: I get pay tomorrow no? I get paid early? is given in cash check no?
Me: .. no. it's on a debit card or you can transfer funds to your bank.
Her: Oh so i get more free credits! I buy more!
Me: No. IT'S MONEY. YOU PUT IT IN THE BANK.
Her: what no free product?
Me: GHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh. KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNN.
Her: Ok. I make free buy tomorrow.
Me: IT's MONEY. on credit card! that you use. to pay.
Her: Oh no is check?
Me: dafuq.
Her: So is free product money check for order?
Me: MONEY. NOT FREE PRODUCT.
Her: ... oh. is money I put in my bank?
Me: Yes.
Her: FOR free product!
Me: NO!
--Joe cute guy is lancing the veins that have burst on my neck at this point--
Her: Oh what is then?
Me: You know the credit card you use to buy groceries?
Her: OH SI!
Me: Free groceries?
Her: No. Is pay.
Me: THE FUCKING SAME YOU ILLEGAL ALIEN.
Her: I not from US.
Me: YOU DON'T SAY.
Her: I come here few month back.
Me: ...
Her: Is nice here. I no need job.
Me: dafuq.
Her: They give me credit card. Insurances for the health. Even pay for house and bill. Give money which I pay credit card to make purchase of product that you give for free.
ME: *feet on desk* GOOOOOOOD BLESSSSSSSS AMERICAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LAAAAAAND THAAAAAAAT I LOATHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Her: Is great not to have job no?
Me: ..this is my job?
Her: OH you servant to us!
Me: Fucking shoot me now.
Her: You open 24 hr?
Me: No we closed about 20 minutes ago.
Her: Oh I ask few more question. You no mind?
Me: of course not.
Her: Oh. Kay. I want to know.. never of minding. I go now is late grandson need sleep.
Me: FUCK YES.
Her: Thank you for help. Have nice night.
--at this point I don't recall punching out but I did. Cute guy Joe talked with me and walked me to my car. Then he headed to his and I went home. With a gallon of whiskey. That I just polished in the ten minutes it took to post this--
Fucka you.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
An overdose of Eh!
Yep. You guessed it. This is an ode to the dumb bitch in Canada that really couldn't fucking understand English even though she was speaking it better that most people in the United States.
Sure, that's not too fucking hard to imagine but whatever. Go with it. I'm the optimist with people in our own goddamn country mastering the English language by the end of the world.
On a side note, I fucking LOVE Canadians. The ones I personally know are kick ass individuals and this no way reflects my opinion of our friends to the north.
This call was beautiful.
Ready? AND GO!
Me: It's a hap-hap-happy day a la Gabby and Friends! What the fuck do you want?
--personally, I like this greeting. I think it really brings the element of derange to the conversation--
Her: Hi, Eh.
Me: .....
Her: My name is Ciarra and my ID number is 666.
--Sorry satan, you keep getting thrown into this bullshit. You'll kick my ass later in Hell, I'm sure--
Me: Right. So let's verify your account, shall we?
Ciarra: Eh, yeah eh. Spose we should, eh? My address is 1 degree below zero, fucking canadiastan, bunchalettersandnumberszipcode.
Me: Whhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy thank you. Now what can I do for you?
Ciarra: Well, ya see, eh, what I'm calling about is my tracking number for my last order, eh. Ya see. I paid for the 3-7 ground shipping and eh, that was the 1st. It's now the 13th, ya see what I mean eh?
--I'm not even fucking joking, guys. I even parsed down the 'eh' shit for you to stomach, it was way worse in real life--
Me: Why yes, I do see that the order shipped on the 1st of the month. *in head wake up wake up it's the first of the month... BOEN THUGZ* Just give me a moment and I'll track it for you.
Ciarra: Thank you. It isn't showing up in my tracking, ya see.
Me: What tracking are you using?
Ciarra: the post and fedex.
Me: The ten digit tracking number?
Ciarra: EHhhhhh yes.
Me: ...your tracking numbers up there aren't 10.
Ciarra: OH.
Me: I see that it's currently in Richmond, Manitoba. It's being sorted as of today at the local postal facility.
Ciarra: Who is it coming through?
Me: ..whoever delivered your last one, I'd imagine.
Ciarra: That's the thing, eh. The last time I ordered it arrived in the 3-7 day frame.
Me: I see. *fart, mute drink, wink at cute guy (not really)* OH well I do see what happened. It appears your package was unfortunately the victim of being held in customs for 7 days.
Ciarra: Well that's not ever happened before. I pay a lot for shipping, ya see.
Me: *blinks, the bitch who called me before you is in the US and paid $10.95 shipping to your $9.95. DA FUQ third world country do you live in to think 10 is less than 9!? Oh. wait. Right.* Well, you see, when you purchase an order and have shipping, we can only state the average delivery. We can not guarantee what any postal delivery would be because you never know when a monsoon will come in and knock your fucking house to the ground and blow your precious shit you ordered will blow into Vancouver instead of Ontario. I'd like to say we fucking control every-goddamn-post-delivery-on-earth but unfortunately, I relinquished my Goddess rights in a bad hand of poker in Vegas and am now a mere mortal.
Ciarra: Well this is bad practice and if it happens again, I'm going to cancel because this is stupid.
Me: YER STOOPID.
Ciarra: What?
Me: When someone ORDERS a product and lives in another country, we do not guarantee a delivery because CUSTOMS may detain it as a random investigation. That is NOT included in our shipping time.
Ciarra: It should.
Me: ..
--YES. I WILL FUCKING CONTROL CUSTOMS AND MAKE SURE THAT THEY ARE MY BITCH FROM NOW ON SO THAT YOUR PUNK ASS FAT SELF CAN GET YOUR GOODS TO MAKE YOU LOSE WEIGHT--
Well, it shipped from us on the 1st and it arrived to Customs within 1 day. THAT is as far as OUR guarantee goes.
Ciarra: Are you for real?
Me: *toying with pink, blue and yellow highlighters making a pretty pretty rainbow of drawings on my ubercool notepad* I am.
Ciarra: Well, when will it arrive?
Me: It's in Manitoba. Right now I'd guess whenever because fuck you I just learned where all the states are located on the US map and I can't be half-assed to learn Canuckistan, too. In fact, I think I'm pretty goddamn good at finding the bathroom at work, so fuck if I'm going to learn your goddamn region too. Fuck, we ship to France. Let me learn French now too and all the rural routes there! Yay!
Ciarra: OK. If this happens again, I'm cancelling.
Me: PLEASE DO! Er. Is there anything else you want?
Ciarra: No, that'll be all.
Me: FUCK YEAH!
Ciarra: Thank you.
Me: PENIS!
And that's this misadventure in customer dis-service. Remember to tip your CSR agent accordingly.
Sure, that's not too fucking hard to imagine but whatever. Go with it. I'm the optimist with people in our own goddamn country mastering the English language by the end of the world.
On a side note, I fucking LOVE Canadians. The ones I personally know are kick ass individuals and this no way reflects my opinion of our friends to the north.
This call was beautiful.
Ready? AND GO!
Me: It's a hap-hap-happy day a la Gabby and Friends! What the fuck do you want?
--personally, I like this greeting. I think it really brings the element of derange to the conversation--
Her: Hi, Eh.
Me: .....
Her: My name is Ciarra and my ID number is 666.
--Sorry satan, you keep getting thrown into this bullshit. You'll kick my ass later in Hell, I'm sure--
Me: Right. So let's verify your account, shall we?
Ciarra: Eh, yeah eh. Spose we should, eh? My address is 1 degree below zero, fucking canadiastan, bunchalettersandnumberszipcode.
Me: Whhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy thank you. Now what can I do for you?
Ciarra: Well, ya see, eh, what I'm calling about is my tracking number for my last order, eh. Ya see. I paid for the 3-7 ground shipping and eh, that was the 1st. It's now the 13th, ya see what I mean eh?
--I'm not even fucking joking, guys. I even parsed down the 'eh' shit for you to stomach, it was way worse in real life--
Me: Why yes, I do see that the order shipped on the 1st of the month. *in head wake up wake up it's the first of the month... BOEN THUGZ* Just give me a moment and I'll track it for you.
Ciarra: Thank you. It isn't showing up in my tracking, ya see.
Me: What tracking are you using?
Ciarra: the post and fedex.
Me: The ten digit tracking number?
Ciarra: EHhhhhh yes.
Me: ...your tracking numbers up there aren't 10.
Ciarra: OH.
Me: I see that it's currently in Richmond, Manitoba. It's being sorted as of today at the local postal facility.
Ciarra: Who is it coming through?
Me: ..whoever delivered your last one, I'd imagine.
Ciarra: That's the thing, eh. The last time I ordered it arrived in the 3-7 day frame.
Me: I see. *fart, mute drink, wink at cute guy (not really)* OH well I do see what happened. It appears your package was unfortunately the victim of being held in customs for 7 days.
Ciarra: Well that's not ever happened before. I pay a lot for shipping, ya see.
Me: *blinks, the bitch who called me before you is in the US and paid $10.95 shipping to your $9.95. DA FUQ third world country do you live in to think 10 is less than 9!? Oh. wait. Right.* Well, you see, when you purchase an order and have shipping, we can only state the average delivery. We can not guarantee what any postal delivery would be because you never know when a monsoon will come in and knock your fucking house to the ground and blow your precious shit you ordered will blow into Vancouver instead of Ontario. I'd like to say we fucking control every-goddamn-post-delivery-on-earth but unfortunately, I relinquished my Goddess rights in a bad hand of poker in Vegas and am now a mere mortal.
Ciarra: Well this is bad practice and if it happens again, I'm going to cancel because this is stupid.
Me: YER STOOPID.
Ciarra: What?
Me: When someone ORDERS a product and lives in another country, we do not guarantee a delivery because CUSTOMS may detain it as a random investigation. That is NOT included in our shipping time.
Ciarra: It should.
Me: ..
--YES. I WILL FUCKING CONTROL CUSTOMS AND MAKE SURE THAT THEY ARE MY BITCH FROM NOW ON SO THAT YOUR PUNK ASS FAT SELF CAN GET YOUR GOODS TO MAKE YOU LOSE WEIGHT--
Well, it shipped from us on the 1st and it arrived to Customs within 1 day. THAT is as far as OUR guarantee goes.
Ciarra: Are you for real?
Me: *toying with pink, blue and yellow highlighters making a pretty pretty rainbow of drawings on my ubercool notepad* I am.
Ciarra: Well, when will it arrive?
Me: It's in Manitoba. Right now I'd guess whenever because fuck you I just learned where all the states are located on the US map and I can't be half-assed to learn Canuckistan, too. In fact, I think I'm pretty goddamn good at finding the bathroom at work, so fuck if I'm going to learn your goddamn region too. Fuck, we ship to France. Let me learn French now too and all the rural routes there! Yay!
Ciarra: OK. If this happens again, I'm cancelling.
Me: PLEASE DO! Er. Is there anything else you want?
Ciarra: No, that'll be all.
Me: FUCK YEAH!
Ciarra: Thank you.
Me: PENIS!
And that's this misadventure in customer dis-service. Remember to tip your CSR agent accordingly.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
I know the CE-Oh, really?
For those not familiar with the whole idea of an escalated call, lemme throw in the 411 before beginning with the most delicious tidbit of a call I could ever be cursed to get.
Escalation (pronounced Fuck this shit, let a supervisor deal with their bitch ass attitude now) is what happens when you pretty much wreck the day of a minimum-wage paid call representative who is misinformed by the company's statement of "You're the top tier, our front line. Our soldiers."
In other words, we're the ones taking it up the asses in the relationship with the company.
They inflate the whole 'reverse tier' priority level to make you feel good to go out and deal with the good, the bad and the if-I-knew-where-they-lived-I'd-be-on-trial-for-homicide. So, you've just wrecked the whole fucking day for Mary O'Dea. You've got her so frustrated and upset, she went home that night and taught her dog to lick your butt and sniff your face. AND OOH!
When you got done wrecking her day, you tried that same infantile shit on her supervisor. Who either put your punk ass self in your place by defending poor, defenseless Mary or let you get your goddamn fucking way like you're Justin Bieber.
Now, let's begin this little story. I really had fun with this call today. In fact, I had to hold back the urge to put her in her place and call her every fucking name in the book to get her ass to chill the fuck out that I was pretty goddamn confused.
I'm not posting my script. That would give away the best job in the world! Instead, you get my 'whatever the fuck I feel like typing for a script' script. Haha. Fuck you. :)
Me: Hi, we'd like to thank you for your call today, as it is very important to us. My name is Yoko and may I have your name, please?
Woman: Debbie Jones.
--OH shit. That's her real name. Fuck I better change it...nah. Too lazy. I forget her last name anyway so who gives two shits, right??--
Me: Thank you, Debbie. In order for me to access your account, may I please have your user name?
--gagggagggagggg sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what neurotic bitches pretend to be made of--
Debbie: A21459856.
Me: Thank you. I would like to verify that this is the correct information we have on file, would you
please state your billing address as well as the last four on your credit card for me, please?
Debbie: 1234 Not Fucking Amused Way, Notfuckingamusedistan, Angristonia, 66666. The last four
are 1234.
Me: Thank you so much! Now, please tell me how I might assist you?
Debbie: I was on a call with Corporate today. Blah blah blah how much better than YOU I am and I expect to get my way because I'm namedropping more than Taylor Swift has had boyfriends this year alone.
Me: *yawn eyeroll yahuh whatever blah blah blah reading through notes and not seeing any of this shit annotated so I'm smelling the horrific aroma of bullshit from 2600 miles away* All right, I do see
that you had called the other day. This is in regard to a customer with the username I-dont-fucking-remember?
Debbie: Yes, that is correct. NOW. I want to know if their order went through right. Can you at least tell me that?
Me: Of course. *noting address in head and wondering if I'd get busted for looking up driving directions to her house on google maps* AH yes, I do see that her order for 1 gallon of dogshit did go through correctly. IS there something else I can help you with, Debbie?
Debbie: YES. I need to change person's password.
Me: *eyes her account as Premium. eyes persons account as premium. In head knowing two premiums can NOT change anyone's password, only owner of the account* OK to verify I'm on the correct account, may I have their address and last four of their credit card, please?
Debbie: 4523 fuckingreallyangrynow, Chokeabitchmad, Fuckyugastopia, 000000. Last four 5433.
Me: I'm sorry, the last four is not the number we have on file--
Debbie: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT IS NOT THE FOUR ON FILE THAT IS WHAT I JUST GAVE YOU AND WHAT SHE USED TO ENROLL WITH.
Me: I'm sorry, I'm only reading what's before me.
Debbie: ...is this the correct account?????
Me: ...you verified the address properly.
Debbie: Well this is goddamn great. I JUST SPENT ALL MORNING ON THE PHONE WITH CORPORATE AND I DEMAND TO BE PUT BACK THROUGH ON JIMBOB MILLIONAIRE CEO'S PRIVATE LINE NOW HE IS ON MY FACEBOOK AND I AM NOT AMUSED. PUT ME THROUGH NOW.
Me: *getting horny just thinking how to piss her off* I'm sorry, we do not have access to the corporate phone numbers at this location.
Debbie: *morphing into satan (sorry satan)* THEN PUT ME THROUGH TO SOMEONE WHO CAN.
Me: *in head, it's may, not can, but whatever. Let me think of how to crap on your name-dropping parade some more because you're keeping me from my lunch and fuck. I'm hungry. If you're going to make me starve myself, then I'm going to make you contemplate murdering me* I'm sorry, Debbie. Even if I were to escalate this call to my supervisor, they would not even have the ability themselves to put you through to the CEO's private line.
Debbie: I'M HIGH UP IN THE COMPANY I WILL GET YOUR NAME AND YOU WILL GET FIRED FOR NOT LISTENING TO ME OR DOING AS I SAY.
Me: Let me put you on a brief hold so that I can look into what the best course of action is for you, please?
Debbie: ...FINE.
Me: *hold*
--This is where I Fucked around with the stuffed animals on my desk, drew a few hearts with the name of the guy I like on my notepad. toyed with the my little pony on my desk. Re-arranged the papers and cheat sheets on my desk. Stretched, took a drink of the juice beside me and fixed a wicked hangnail. THEN I waved a supervisor over and discussed your bitchy ass self. She told me to stand my ground, nobody can forward her ass to the CEO*
Me: Hi, Debbie, are you still there?
Debbie: YES. (Inside I died a little)
Me: Unfortunately, there is no way at this establishment to transfer you through--
Debbie: THEY TRANSFERRED ME THIS MORNING.
Me: I do apologize, the call center that you contacted this morning was AT the corporate one. (Translation, they fuck up more shit than they'll ever admit to fucking up)
Debbie: Put me through to THEM. I want to speak to Marissa. I SPOKE TO HER THIS MORNING.
Me: I'm sorry, Marissa is not available.
Debbie: MAKE HER AVAILABLE.
Me: *inside - bitch I'll make me a sandwich before I make a supervisor available who punched out an hour ago* I'm sorry she is unable to take any calls at this time.
Debbie: I WANT TO CHANGE HER PASSWORD.
Me: Accounts on the same level can not unless it is the owner. I'm sorry; those are the exact rules handed down by the holiest of holy at home office. Ohmmmmmmmmmm.
Debbie: WELL SHE WORKS 16 HOURS A DAY AND CAN NOT CALL IN TO CHANGE HER INFORMATION AND I'M SO CLOSE TO MY 20,000 AND I'M NOT ABOUT TO LET YOU CAUSE ME TO LOSE IT.
Me: I'm sorry; the rules are for anyone. Even those who would have been enrolled by Jimbob CEO himself.
Debbie: SO YOU'RE GOING TO LET ME POSSIBLY LOSE THIS CLIENT AND MY 20,000$ BONUS BECAUSE OF A TECHNICALITY?
Me: I'm sorry. When this applies to personal information such as credit cards or access to change an account, the owner is the only one who MAY make the changes. It's for their security.
Debbie: I WANT TO CHANGE THE PASSWORD.
Me: Unless you can provide the last four of the card TO verify the account, I can not make any changes. What if this is not the correct account and we change it? Then someone else calls in equally angry because I went messing with their account as it wasn't verified and I get fired.
Debbie: SO WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I WANT TO KILL YOU SO IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT THE FUCK RAINBOW SHITCOCKERY I PLACE HERE BECAUSE I'M SO FULL OF THE HATE RIGHT NOW AT YOU FOR FOLLOWING YOUR COMPANY PROCEDURES THAT NOW I'M ACTING LIKE BIEBER CANCELLING A CONCERT BECAUSE NOT EVERYTHING WAS SOLD OUT.
Me: I'm sorry. I do understand your frustration. *inside HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Not.*
Debbie: I. WANT. YOU. TO TAKE. NOTES. POST ON ALL. ACCOUNTS. ALL. TICKETS FOR PROBLEMS. I WANT. EMAILS SENT TO THE CEO. I WANT. YOU TO. READ BACK. NOTE.
TO ME.
Me: I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to read the annotations to people as they are only to familiarize other reps with any situations going on. I have included the reason for your call, as well as the trouble you've had in authorizing her account and not wanting to follow the CEO's rules for equal accounts.
Debbie: GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-- voice in background telling her to calm down it's not the rep's fault- I'M SORRY I'M SO ANGRY AT YOU I DO NOT MEAN TO TAKE IT OUT ON YOU.
Me: *filing nails and staring at hot guy across the desk at me* Hm? OH no. I'm OK. I'm sorry there isn't anything I can do for YOU. I have taken notes and I left the confirmation number with Marissa so as soon as she does become available she can handle the problems you've been having.
Debbie: THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH.
Me: *squirming in the chair OH look, I have strawberry tictacs! YUMMY!* Is there anything else I can handle for you today?
Debbie: NO THAT IS EVERYTHING. JUST GET THOSE NOTES POSTED AND I WILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO ON MY END. THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP.
Me: Thank you for your call, I'm sorry I couldn't help. Have a good day.
Debbie: Yeah. *Click*
Me: *finishes note, grabs bag and logs off the system, punches out* YAY SQUIRREL!
Poor Debbie. She couldn't get her way and the whole name dropping bullshit got really, really lame. Kind of like her life, probably. Unfortunately, she didn't phase me and in fact, I feel she's made a suiting victim #1 to the dis-customer service journal. Just so you know, real or not, namedropping isn't going to get you the free ride to 'dowhateverthefuckIwantistan' Still gotta pay the toll and follow the laws of the land.
Until next time, agents. Let's tear this shit up like it's 1999.
<3
Escalation (pronounced Fuck this shit, let a supervisor deal with their bitch ass attitude now) is what happens when you pretty much wreck the day of a minimum-wage paid call representative who is misinformed by the company's statement of "You're the top tier, our front line. Our soldiers."
In other words, we're the ones taking it up the asses in the relationship with the company.
They inflate the whole 'reverse tier' priority level to make you feel good to go out and deal with the good, the bad and the if-I-knew-where-they-lived-I'd-be-on-trial-for-homicide. So, you've just wrecked the whole fucking day for Mary O'Dea. You've got her so frustrated and upset, she went home that night and taught her dog to lick your butt and sniff your face. AND OOH!
When you got done wrecking her day, you tried that same infantile shit on her supervisor. Who either put your punk ass self in your place by defending poor, defenseless Mary or let you get your goddamn fucking way like you're Justin Bieber.
Now, let's begin this little story. I really had fun with this call today. In fact, I had to hold back the urge to put her in her place and call her every fucking name in the book to get her ass to chill the fuck out that I was pretty goddamn confused.
I'm not posting my script. That would give away the best job in the world! Instead, you get my 'whatever the fuck I feel like typing for a script' script. Haha. Fuck you. :)
Me: Hi, we'd like to thank you for your call today, as it is very important to us. My name is Yoko and may I have your name, please?
Woman: Debbie Jones.
--OH shit. That's her real name. Fuck I better change it...nah. Too lazy. I forget her last name anyway so who gives two shits, right??--
Me: Thank you, Debbie. In order for me to access your account, may I please have your user name?
--gagggagggagggg sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what neurotic bitches pretend to be made of--
Debbie: A21459856.
Me: Thank you. I would like to verify that this is the correct information we have on file, would you
please state your billing address as well as the last four on your credit card for me, please?
Debbie: 1234 Not Fucking Amused Way, Notfuckingamusedistan, Angristonia, 66666. The last four
are 1234.
Me: Thank you so much! Now, please tell me how I might assist you?
Debbie: I was on a call with Corporate today. Blah blah blah how much better than YOU I am and I expect to get my way because I'm namedropping more than Taylor Swift has had boyfriends this year alone.
Me: *yawn eyeroll yahuh whatever blah blah blah reading through notes and not seeing any of this shit annotated so I'm smelling the horrific aroma of bullshit from 2600 miles away* All right, I do see
that you had called the other day. This is in regard to a customer with the username I-dont-fucking-remember?
Debbie: Yes, that is correct. NOW. I want to know if their order went through right. Can you at least tell me that?
Me: Of course. *noting address in head and wondering if I'd get busted for looking up driving directions to her house on google maps* AH yes, I do see that her order for 1 gallon of dogshit did go through correctly. IS there something else I can help you with, Debbie?
Debbie: YES. I need to change person's password.
Me: *eyes her account as Premium. eyes persons account as premium. In head knowing two premiums can NOT change anyone's password, only owner of the account* OK to verify I'm on the correct account, may I have their address and last four of their credit card, please?
Debbie: 4523 fuckingreallyangrynow, Chokeabitchmad, Fuckyugastopia, 000000. Last four 5433.
Me: I'm sorry, the last four is not the number we have on file--
Debbie: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT IS NOT THE FOUR ON FILE THAT IS WHAT I JUST GAVE YOU AND WHAT SHE USED TO ENROLL WITH.
Me: I'm sorry, I'm only reading what's before me.
Debbie: ...is this the correct account?????
Me: ...you verified the address properly.
Debbie: Well this is goddamn great. I JUST SPENT ALL MORNING ON THE PHONE WITH CORPORATE AND I DEMAND TO BE PUT BACK THROUGH ON JIMBOB MILLIONAIRE CEO'S PRIVATE LINE NOW HE IS ON MY FACEBOOK AND I AM NOT AMUSED. PUT ME THROUGH NOW.
Me: *getting horny just thinking how to piss her off* I'm sorry, we do not have access to the corporate phone numbers at this location.
Debbie: *morphing into satan (sorry satan)* THEN PUT ME THROUGH TO SOMEONE WHO CAN.
Me: *in head, it's may, not can, but whatever. Let me think of how to crap on your name-dropping parade some more because you're keeping me from my lunch and fuck. I'm hungry. If you're going to make me starve myself, then I'm going to make you contemplate murdering me* I'm sorry, Debbie. Even if I were to escalate this call to my supervisor, they would not even have the ability themselves to put you through to the CEO's private line.
Debbie: I'M HIGH UP IN THE COMPANY I WILL GET YOUR NAME AND YOU WILL GET FIRED FOR NOT LISTENING TO ME OR DOING AS I SAY.
Me: Let me put you on a brief hold so that I can look into what the best course of action is for you, please?
Debbie: ...FINE.
Me: *hold*
--This is where I Fucked around with the stuffed animals on my desk, drew a few hearts with the name of the guy I like on my notepad. toyed with the my little pony on my desk. Re-arranged the papers and cheat sheets on my desk. Stretched, took a drink of the juice beside me and fixed a wicked hangnail. THEN I waved a supervisor over and discussed your bitchy ass self. She told me to stand my ground, nobody can forward her ass to the CEO*
Me: Hi, Debbie, are you still there?
Debbie: YES. (Inside I died a little)
Me: Unfortunately, there is no way at this establishment to transfer you through--
Debbie: THEY TRANSFERRED ME THIS MORNING.
Me: I do apologize, the call center that you contacted this morning was AT the corporate one. (Translation, they fuck up more shit than they'll ever admit to fucking up)
Debbie: Put me through to THEM. I want to speak to Marissa. I SPOKE TO HER THIS MORNING.
Me: I'm sorry, Marissa is not available.
Debbie: MAKE HER AVAILABLE.
Me: *inside - bitch I'll make me a sandwich before I make a supervisor available who punched out an hour ago* I'm sorry she is unable to take any calls at this time.
Debbie: I WANT TO CHANGE HER PASSWORD.
Me: Accounts on the same level can not unless it is the owner. I'm sorry; those are the exact rules handed down by the holiest of holy at home office. Ohmmmmmmmmmm.
Debbie: WELL SHE WORKS 16 HOURS A DAY AND CAN NOT CALL IN TO CHANGE HER INFORMATION AND I'M SO CLOSE TO MY 20,000 AND I'M NOT ABOUT TO LET YOU CAUSE ME TO LOSE IT.
Me: I'm sorry; the rules are for anyone. Even those who would have been enrolled by Jimbob CEO himself.
Debbie: SO YOU'RE GOING TO LET ME POSSIBLY LOSE THIS CLIENT AND MY 20,000$ BONUS BECAUSE OF A TECHNICALITY?
Me: I'm sorry. When this applies to personal information such as credit cards or access to change an account, the owner is the only one who MAY make the changes. It's for their security.
Debbie: I WANT TO CHANGE THE PASSWORD.
Me: Unless you can provide the last four of the card TO verify the account, I can not make any changes. What if this is not the correct account and we change it? Then someone else calls in equally angry because I went messing with their account as it wasn't verified and I get fired.
Debbie: SO WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I WANT TO KILL YOU SO IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT THE FUCK RAINBOW SHITCOCKERY I PLACE HERE BECAUSE I'M SO FULL OF THE HATE RIGHT NOW AT YOU FOR FOLLOWING YOUR COMPANY PROCEDURES THAT NOW I'M ACTING LIKE BIEBER CANCELLING A CONCERT BECAUSE NOT EVERYTHING WAS SOLD OUT.
Me: I'm sorry. I do understand your frustration. *inside HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Not.*
Debbie: I. WANT. YOU. TO TAKE. NOTES. POST ON ALL. ACCOUNTS. ALL. TICKETS FOR PROBLEMS. I WANT. EMAILS SENT TO THE CEO. I WANT. YOU TO. READ BACK. NOTE.
TO ME.
Me: I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to read the annotations to people as they are only to familiarize other reps with any situations going on. I have included the reason for your call, as well as the trouble you've had in authorizing her account and not wanting to follow the CEO's rules for equal accounts.
Debbie: GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-- voice in background telling her to calm down it's not the rep's fault- I'M SORRY I'M SO ANGRY AT YOU I DO NOT MEAN TO TAKE IT OUT ON YOU.
Me: *filing nails and staring at hot guy across the desk at me* Hm? OH no. I'm OK. I'm sorry there isn't anything I can do for YOU. I have taken notes and I left the confirmation number with Marissa so as soon as she does become available she can handle the problems you've been having.
Debbie: THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH.
Me: *squirming in the chair OH look, I have strawberry tictacs! YUMMY!* Is there anything else I can handle for you today?
Debbie: NO THAT IS EVERYTHING. JUST GET THOSE NOTES POSTED AND I WILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO ON MY END. THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP.
Me: Thank you for your call, I'm sorry I couldn't help. Have a good day.
Debbie: Yeah. *Click*
Me: *finishes note, grabs bag and logs off the system, punches out* YAY SQUIRREL!
Poor Debbie. She couldn't get her way and the whole name dropping bullshit got really, really lame. Kind of like her life, probably. Unfortunately, she didn't phase me and in fact, I feel she's made a suiting victim #1 to the dis-customer service journal. Just so you know, real or not, namedropping isn't going to get you the free ride to 'dowhateverthefuckIwantistan' Still gotta pay the toll and follow the laws of the land.
Until next time, agents. Let's tear this shit up like it's 1999.
<3
Greetings, Infidels.
A suiting intro, if ever one.
Let me introduce myself.
I am that person that you treat like absolute shit when you call in for customer service for whatever the hell product you get or own but probably don't really need, know how to use or even know why you have it. Yeah hi, me.
The one that you berate, treat like shit and try to humiliate and force into tears until we finally give in or escalate your bratty ass to a supervisor so that you get your way.
Hi. I'm the bitch that kills your ass with kindness and fucks up your day by telling you like it is.
The customer is always right?
Bitch, please.
While you go on about your friends about how "horrible" your service was or how long your damn wait time was, I'm the punk that's fucking up the day and anonymously posting perhaps YOUR conversation with me online for everyone to see what a jackass you can be.
Maybe next time you decide that you're a deity and can piss all over that rep who wants to help you to the best of their ability you'll reconsider.
Malice never tasted so sweet.
Let me introduce myself.
I am that person that you treat like absolute shit when you call in for customer service for whatever the hell product you get or own but probably don't really need, know how to use or even know why you have it. Yeah hi, me.
The one that you berate, treat like shit and try to humiliate and force into tears until we finally give in or escalate your bratty ass to a supervisor so that you get your way.
Hi. I'm the bitch that kills your ass with kindness and fucks up your day by telling you like it is.
The customer is always right?
Bitch, please.
While you go on about your friends about how "horrible" your service was or how long your damn wait time was, I'm the punk that's fucking up the day and anonymously posting perhaps YOUR conversation with me online for everyone to see what a jackass you can be.
Maybe next time you decide that you're a deity and can piss all over that rep who wants to help you to the best of their ability you'll reconsider.
Malice never tasted so sweet.
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