A Very Last Shift In Behavior

, , , , , , , , | Right | October 18, 2019

(It’s not long before the end of my very last call centre shift and my tolerance for stupidity is at an all-time low.)

Me: “Hello, you’re through to [Bank], [My Name] speaking. How can I help?”

Caller: “Reset my online password. Your stupid system blocked it.”

Me: “Can I take your account number, please?”

Caller: “I don’t have it.”

Me: “Okay, is this for a credit or a debit account?”

Caller: “Credit.”

Me: “Perfect. And is it a personal or business account?”

Caller: *tutting* “Personal.”

Me: “Let me just bring up the credit card system. Can I take your name and the first line of your address so I can search for you?”

Caller: “It’s [Caller] and [address].”

Me: “Nothing is coming back with those details. Let me just search the business credit card system.”

Caller: “It’s not a business card. Jesus.” *to person in background* “How hard is it to listen to what I’m saying?”

Me: “All right. Well, there’s nothing with your details coming up on the credit card system. Is it definitely a credit card?”

Caller: “No! Jesus Christ. It’s a debit card. Why is this taking so long?” *to person in background* “She isn’t listening to anything I say.”

Me: “All right, I’ll search the debit card system. Again, nothing is coming up on that system. Are you definitely a [Bank] customer?”

Caller: “This is ridiculous. Yes, I am a customer.”

Me: “Okay. By any chance is it a business account?” *even though she already said it isn’t*

Caller: “Yes! Are you stupid? I told you already that it is!” *to person in the background* “This idiot is the stupidest person I’ve ever spoken to.”

Me: *starting to see red* “What’s the business name?”

Caller: “[Business].”

Me: “Nothing is coming up under that name, either. Please double-check and give me the right business name.”

Caller: “F***’s sake. It’s [Other Name].” 

Me: “Okay, I finally have your account. Can I take your security number to verify you?”

Caller: “It’s [number].”

Me: “Nope, that’s not right. Try again.”

Caller: “Try [number].”

Me: “That’s not correct, either, so now I need to ask you some security questions. Can I get [details]?

Caller: “Is this call ever going to f****** end? It’s [details].

(By now I am completely confused and I’ve forgotten that she wants to reset a password. It’s almost 11:00 pm and at this time of night, 99% of calls are for lost cards, so I automatically assume that’s what the call is for.)

Me: “Those details were actually correct, so I can cancel your lost card now.”

Caller: “WHY THE F*** ARE YOU CANCELLING MY CARD?! Jesus, are you completely stupid? I want to reset my password. Is that too difficult for your dumb brain to comprehend?”

Me: “I’m sorry. There has been so much back and forth while I try to find your account that I forgot the call reason.”

Caller: “That’s not good enough. You’re a stupid f****** idiot who hasn’t listened to anything I’ve said. You’re a moron.”

Me: *finally reaching my limit* “DO NOT SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT! I am not stupid and I have listened to everything you’ve said. You said it was a credit card when it was a debit card. You said it was a personal account when it was a business account. You said the business name was [Business] when it’s actually [Other Name]. You rang the bank without any account details or account information. And finally, you’re the one who doesn’t know their verification details. I’ve spent nearly fifteen minutes trying to find your account when this entire call should have only taken two or three minutes, all because you’re too stupid to know a single thing about your account.”

Caller: “Well, I, uh, just…”.

Me: “I’ve reset your online password now, and since you’re soooooo smart, I’m sure you’ll figure out how to create a new one yourself. Goodbye.”

(I then hung up on her. The password reset process is extremely difficult without help, but my shift was over so I never found out if she had to call back.)

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Might Not Be Homophobic, But This Family Has Other Issues

, , , , , , | Related | October 18, 2019

(I came out to my parents a few days ago, and after the advisement of my mum, I had decided not to tell my grandparents just yet. I get a phone call from my grandmother today.)

Grandmother: “You b*****d! You should’ve come out to me first. Your mum’s just tried to get £100 out of me by betting you were gay!” 

(I could hear my mum cackling in the background.)

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Playing Hardball On The Golf Ball With Softball

, , , , , | Friendly | October 18, 2019

In the early part of the century, my wife and I were deacons in a small non-denominational church east of the Canadian Rockies. One summer, we spent weeks arranging an after-service family softball game — kids vs. adults. We had to work around other church activities and scheduled it for the last Sunday in August, giving everyone four weeks’ notice. The date was pushing things; in that part of the world, we could get snow at that time. Everything was set, until…

The Sunday before the game was scheduled, a man unknown to us got up during announcements. I was in the office counting the offering but the following is the verbatim quote, as verified by several people:

“Next Sunday, there will be a men’s golf outing immediately after church. This means that the softball game will have to be postponed.” And he sat down.

As I said, I missed his statement but I got back to the sanctuary in time to hear my wife, normally the nicest and most accommodating of persons, get up and ream him a new one in front of the congregation, stating that the game was not postponed and ending with, “We will not miss you.”

The game did go on as scheduled, but there is an addendum. As deacons, we were responsible for the day-to-day running of the church and we had begun to question our pastor. He was the founding minister of the church and had become a bit too comfortable in his role. He made no secret of his love for the game of golf and, for some mysterious reason, was never around on Fridays in good weather. We always suspected he was on the links but could never prove it. 

He had an obligation to be part of the softball game and it was obvious he didn’t want to be. Initially, he suggested we only play seven innings. We shot that down. Then, he wanted to let the kids win and go home; again, no. The game went on for over three hours with the score in the teens for both sides, but when it finally ended, our holy man vanished fast enough to call it a modern miracle.

To this day, we are convinced that he put the other man up to the claim the previous week as he didn’t have the guts to do it himself.

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Adventures Of The Disappointed Man

, , , , , | Right | October 16, 2019

(A new superhero movie about a certain character who can crawl up walls opened a few weeks ago. As a promotion, the studio sent us a limited supply of mini-figurines of the titular hero to give out to customers who come to see the movie. Naturally, given how popular the film is, we run out of figurines by the end of the opening weekend. As with any promotional freebee, any reference to them specifically notes they are a “while supplies last” and first-come-first-serve deal. It’s about three weeks later. I’m not a manager, but I’m alone inside the manager’s office doing a required quiz about fire safety when a guy who looks to be in his mid- to late-20s saunters up to the open door.)

Customer: “You a manager?”

Me: “No, the manager is out for a few minutes but should be back shortly. Is there something I can help you with, though?”

Customer: “I saw online a few weeks back you had those figures to give out for [Movie]. But the guy said you didn’t have any left. It’s just… really disappointing to me.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. Yeah, unfortunately, those things are usually first-come-first-serve, and the studio only sends us a limited supply.”

Customer: “Yeah… it’s disappointing.”

Me: “Yeah.”

Customer: “I’m just… so disappointed.”

Me: “I’m sorry.”

(The customer stands there and gives out an elongated, exaggerated sigh like he’s incredibly sad.)

Me: “Is… is there anything I can help you with?”

Customer: “Well… I’m disappointed. I really wanted one of those figures. It’s disappointing.”

Me: “I’m sorry. Do you want me to get a manager?”

Customer: “I just feel like I shouldn’t have to come into a theater just to be disappointed. I wish there was a way… to make me less disappointed…”

Me: *about to lose my mind if he says “disappointed” one more time* “Uh… let me radio the manager. There’s, unfortunately, nothing I can really do.”

(I radio the manager to come to the office. The instant she arrives, I can see her rolling her eyes… clearly, she’s dealt with this guy before. She tells me to finish the quiz later and sends me back to my register. I watch her stand there talking to the man for no less than ten straight minutes, shaking her head “no” every time he speaks. The man finally gives one last exaggerated sigh, using his whole body to illustrate the point, and walks away out the front door. My manager walks up to me at my register.)

Manager: “Yeah, if you see that guy again… do not engage. Just get me.”

Me: “I kind of figured that out. He was trying to get free tickets, wasn‘t he?”

Manager: “Yeah… He literally only comes in whenever there’s a free promotional item like the figures. But he’ll wait a few weeks until we’ve run out, and then he’ll show up saying he’s ‘disappointed’ and try to ask for free tickets so we can ‘make it up to him.’ This is at least the tenth time he’s done it in the past few years.”

Me: “Has it ever worked for him?”

Manager: “That’s the weird thing. No, it hasn’t. Every time, we tell him that we can’t give him free tickets just because we ran out of a free promotional item. But he keeps trying. He’s tenacious, I’ll give him that.”

(And that was my introduction to “The Disappointed Man.” I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him come in and get shot down about once every six or so months ever since.)

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Should Have Paid Attention

, , , , , | Working | October 16, 2019

(I’m opening the office mail when I notice a particularly thick envelope from a law office.)

Me: “All right, taking bets. Death, bankruptcy, or suing?”

Coworker: “Death.”

Me: “I feel like we get more bankruptcies.”

Manager: “Definitely suing.”

(I open the letter and find a check along with several invoices.)

Me: “Huh. They’re just paying their bill.”

Manager: “No one would have guessed that!”

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