The Remote Douche

 

Why yes that man in the tank is playing an anvil in front of a full orchestra.

Some people are just such raging assholes it’s ridiculous. They call up customer service and bully the reps into giving them what they want, all while verbally attacking and putting down the people that are helping them. I at least have the satisfaction of knowing that when they call me, I could give a fuck about their general existence on this earth, let alone their stupid fucking TV problems.

A call came in and must have been a cell phone, because it broke up a bit. I thought it sounded like some sort of salutation, but I wasn’t completely sure.

Winston: “I’m good, how are you?”

Customer: “What? I didn’t ask how you were. I asked if you have my account in front of you. Is that too much for you to handle?”

Winston: “I have your account here, what can I help you with?”

Customer: “Well then why don’t you look over my account and figure it out yourself?”

Apparently bitching is easy, but explaining is far too difficult.

Winston: “Well I see you’re trying to order a replacement remote.”

Customer: “No, I ordered a remote five times and five of you idiots failed. If they were working for me, they would all be fired. You are in a position of authority and you need to get this done NOW!”

Winston Gets Hit On

In Montana, they have caution signs for deer. Other places have slightly different caution signs.

My calls are about 50/50. I’d say roughly 50% of the time the calls are uneventful and therefore amazing. 40% of the time a customer flips shit on me and has a fucking fit over something stupid. The other 10% are, well, just a little different…

Winston: “Okay ma’am, I think that settles your payment, you should be all good to. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Customer: “I know my nurse told me not to flirt, but I just can’t help it. Do you have yourself a wife Mr. Winston?”

Winston: “Um, no, but I don’t think this is…”

Oh no, this isn’t happening.

Customer: “Hot dog! How about a girlfriend?”

Nope, it’s happening. Better lay down the law and hang up before it gets any weirder.

Winston: “Yes, I do have a girlfriend, now is there anything else I can help you…”

Customer: “Ah, shoot! Well you call me if you ever break up.”

Guilty By Association

Yes, that is in fact an OJ is not guilty pog.

There’s no denying Telescreen is an evil company. So very, very evil.

Big Brother, the dickweed that runs the place is one of the richest men in the US and treats his business like a totalitarian dictator. The company was founded on a set of principals where the upper echelon steps on others, manipulates employees, and will do anything in order to turn just the most miniscule of additional profit. I guess there’s a reason it keeps getting named the worst company to work for.

Surely, there are a lot of Telescreen customers that agree with that sentiment.

Customer: “Listen here pal, you may be a nice guy, I don’t know you. But you work for an asshole company and you know what? That makes you an asshole too. Good like with your life, asshole.”

Click.

Touché. I guess I’m guilty by association.

Winston Gets Sent To The Manager’s Office

Why is there a swing set in front of the manager’s office?

Every employee of any company dreads it. Just like when you were a kid and they had the principal’s office. Except instead of threatening to call your parents, they threaten to take away your paycheck. Yes, these are the fears of being sent to the manager’s office.

I was getting bitched out by some toothless hillbilly piece of shit who couldn’t count past six if it were on a Busch light can, so basically, just a typical day. On my extremely limited and time-monitored break, some of my fellow long-suffering employees were talking about someone who just got canned after being with the company for 12 years. Now in a call center, 12 years is like 100 fucking years. Considering the normal (smart) employee lasts weeks or months, that’s a big deal. So the gossip continued and I went back to work like normal. After my shift finally ended, I heard about some more people that seemed to be randomly fired. And then some more. Considering the constant hurt for employees and the high volume of idiot callers, this was seeming pretty weird. We all gossiped about our job security and those that were now free from Telescreen, and I left to join the real world, away from the evil dungeon known as Super Department.

The next day, I was back at it, this time helping some dumbass who could barely speak English add up a bill. Then up popped a chat from one of the supervisors who told me to go to the regional manager’s office. Now I’d been in the department manager’s office a few times, like in Don’t Get Mad And Leave, but never the regional manger’s. Once the failed math lesson was over, I slowly made my way to the office of the call-center regional manager, someone I had only seen at a distance after so many years of working in Super Department. It was like the fucking Wizard of Oz or something, except the she was a weird-looking chick and not a midget.

Sherlock Holmes

I always wondered what the Internet looked like in real life.

There are plenty of mysteries in the world. Stonehenge. Atlantis. Nascar. One thing that doesn’t need a fucking investigation is the quick fix of a Telescreen router.

An angry old asshole called in and got super pissed because he couldn’t understand technology. Yes, this is a daily occurrence. I mean, the guy got confused about absolutely fucking everything. I was surprised he could carry on a conversation at that matter. Well, by conversation, I mean him just complaining about the “damned Interweb.”

He couldn’t figure out why his “Interweb” suddenly “vanished.” Why? Because he’s a fucking moron. The mystery of the vanishing Interweb solved in four seconds.

After talking to him for a whole 20 seconds, I could immediately tell he was fucking stupid, caused this whole fucking problem, and that he was really just an asshole. Don’t blame me because you’re stupid, gramps.

Winston: “Okay sir, we need to reset the router. What you’ll do is unplug the power from the box…”

Customer: “Wait, what? You mean this damned Interweb machine?”

Winston: “Correct, you’ll need to pull the power from…”

Customer: “Damnit, slow down! What do I pull?”

The Email Collection: Volume 5

“Hold on, I’m just reading our monthly email usage.”

Wow, it’s been almost a year since we’ve ridiculed ESP email addresses. I dare say this is long overdue. You know the old saying: Give an ESP an email account and they won’t know how to use it. Teach an ESP how to create an email account and they’ll make it something really fucking stupid.

poopoo@wordpress.com: What in the fuck is the point of this? Why would anyone in their right mind have the word “poo” in an email address? On second thought, why is “poo” in there twice? Sometimes I can’t even begin to rationalize the stupidity I encounter.

wellhung@wordpress.com: Well I think congratulations are in order. No, what am I thinking, this must be the email of a framing business, right? A nail manufacturing plant? Either way, I’m sorry Mr. Well Hung, but you didn’t get the job. Something about that email address really didn’t say “team player” or “problem solver.”

missiethang@wordpress.com:  What the fuck does that even mean?

mikewagnersmom@wordpress.com: Everyone was wondering who Mike Wagner’s mom was. They especially wanted to know when an email came in. So Mike’s mom created an email account accordingly. Let us be clear that her name heeds no importance whatsoever. We just need to know that she’s Mike Wagner’s mom.

grimreaper2006@wordpress.com:  No way I’m answering an email from the Grim Reaper, even if that asshole can’t figure out how to turn on the TV.

Scary ESP Stories

Even the pumpkins party too hard on Halloween.

Well gentle reader, it’s Halloween, the day we like to spend scaring the shit out of ourselves. That and eating candy, walking around looking like dumbasses, and getting really drunk. It’s a really great holiday.

Anyway, I thought what better way to enjoy this spooky day than to share some scary Halloween stories. What’s more frightening than an extremely stupid person? Not much, but lets see what we’ve got:

Killer Aliens

Customer: “I turned off the lights so they won’t find me.”

Fellow Agent: “Who?”

Customer: “The aliens. They’s after me. I be talking to you in a closet. Is this line secure?”

Assessment: Though I got this from a fellow agent, I can vouch that we don’t make this shit up. I know it sounds fake, but review every previous post and you’ll understand that people really are this fucking stupid. And aliens do go after illiterate Rednecks. SCARY.

The Big Spender

A history lesson while I buy a Slim Jim? Score.

Well hot damn gentle reader, we did it. We hit the century mark! 100 stories of stupidity. If you’ve been with me from the beginning, you know the impossible is possible. A normal person may believe in the intelligence of the human race. Yet we have 100 examples that there are some real fucking morons out there. Really dumb people. I’m talking about extremely stupid people here.

Now I’m not trying to be defeatist by any means, because quite a bit of good can come from 100 stories of stupid. Had a shitty day at work? Feel better by laughing at those with lesser intelligence. Did something dumb today? Boost your self-esteem by realizing you aren’t a dirty Redneck that can’t count past 2 (the number of Busch Lights ordered in a round at the bar).

I’ve got plenty more than a hundred stories, believe me. It seems like I can’t stay ahead of them. Everyday I go to the call center, really not wanting anyone to be so fucking ridiculous, but I’ll be damned, they just keep on coming. Endless stupidity.

So while we’re talking about numbers, allow me to enlighten you with a story about a man that got really fucking pissed over a really fucking small number.

Winston: “What do you mean you’ve been charged? Your service hasn’t even been setup yet.”

Customer: “I have my bank statement right here and I see a charge. I can send it to you, because I’m not blind!”

Is There Some Kinda Payment Plan?

Words alone can’t even begin to explain what’s wrong with this man.

Because Telescreen caters to the “rural” individuals, the channels they provide are Redneck by nature. You can’t miss shows featuring country music, truck driving, Conservative politics, fishing, guns, Nascar, and all that other worthless stupid shit Rednecks love. Side-note: Why in fucks name do they love Nascar? I mean, it’s just a bunch of assholes driving in circles. What the fuck?

Anyway, Telescreen released a new package called “The Heart of America” package for those individuals in the American Heartland or some shit like that. Translation: all of your Redneck channels in one convenient location. It has the fishing channel, the stupid fucking car racing channel, the shitty country music channel, I mean, all the dumb shit. Because Rednecks are so poor, they made it available for the low price of $5 per month. You would think this would be Redneck’s dream, but no no, they still can’t quite handle it.

Winston: “If you’re wanting the fishing channel, I’d recommend The Heart of America package. It has tons of great stuff.”

You can see my salesman skills at work. By “great stuff” I mean stupid pointless shit that Rednecks love, like Glenn Beck.

Customer: “Now what else is gonna come with this ‘Merica package?”

Have You Ever Been Shot?

“Calm down Grandma. Those kids definitely didn’t walk through your petunias.”

When Telescreen customers don’t pay their bills, Telescreen turns off their service. When customers think TV is too fucking important, they have a shit fit when they can’t watch something worthless like “Dancing With The Stars.” When they can’t watch worthless programming, they call customer service to bitch and complain. When customer service tells them they should pay their fucking bill, they lose their shit and end up talking to Super Department. When customers get to Super Department, they try to give bullshit excuses as to why they didn’t pay their bill in hopes of getting their service turned for free. When I get a bullshit excuse, I laugh and then post about it unbeknownst to the customer on this blog.

Customer: “Man, you gotta get my service back on, I ain’t going nowhere ’til you do.”

Winston: “I’m sorry sir, but the service was shutoff due to nonpayment. I can’t restore services until the $46.77 is collected. I’m happy to take that payment for you over the phone.”

Then there was a long pause followed by a deep sigh.

Customer: “Listen man, I had some stuff happen to me, aight? I got shot. You hear that man, I got shot!”