Bird Brained

Me: “Hello, telephone orders.”

Customer: “Hi, I’ve just seen a bird in my back garden.”

Me: “That’s very nice, madam. Would you like to place an order?”

Customer: “It’s kind of a black and white colour, and quite large…”

Me: “Okay, madam. Did you want to place an order with us today?”

Customer: “What type of bird do you think it is? It’s very unusual.”

Me: “Erm, I’m afraid I can’t help you, madam. I’m just a call center operative.”

Customer: “But don’t you know about birds? Aren’t you the RSPB?” *Royal Society for the Protection of Birds*

Me: “No, madam. We’re just a trading company.”

Customer: “Well, my brochure says RSPB on it.”

Me: “That’s correct, but we’re a trading company. We have lots of different charity catalogues. You actually need to call the RSPB head office.”

Customer: “But it says on this catalogue that you are the RSPB. Surely you must be able to tell me what type of bird it is. It’s so pretty. Oh, oh, oh… Oh, dear, I thought it was going to fly off then. Stay, little birdy. Don’t go away. Good birdy.”

Me: “So would you like the number for the RSPB then?”

Customer: “So who are you?”

(This goes on and on and on, with intermittent monologue about what the bird is actually doing and what she’s fed it)