Monday night, I got to be at the Customer Service Desk--a special level of Hell. Smiley was at Returns, so, of course, I got to answer the bulk of the phone calls. Not that she wasn't absolutely fabulous as she hung on to the fake door that appeared on the side of the desk several years ago, but it would've been nice if she had realized that ringing wasn't just in her head.
Anyway, I gets me a doozy of a call. Ten freaking minutes of listening to the inbred moron on the other end repeat the entire story of his last trip in...including how they left one of their bags at the store. I know, from being there, that there is a bag of "left at the register" electrical outlets at the Return desk, and finally, while stretching the natural laws of the universe and the phone cord, get Smiley to hand me that bag.
I ask specific questions about what Enos left with us. He starts the whole story over again.
At some point, it occurs to Enos that he doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground, so he tells me he'll put his wife on. This is usually good news. Obviously, I am still way too optimistic for my own good.
She gets on the phone and asks me what I want. Like I called them. He tells her what's going on--mostly that he doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. So she launches into the Saga of Enos & Mabel at the home improvement store.
Oh, yeah. The retail-hell version of He Said/She Said. Kill me now.
Finally, I get to ask if they have their receipt. She says yes. I tell her to get a pen so she can mark the items they left, and my name on the receipt. She asks me why she needs a pen. I explain again. She launches in to the Saga again.
I'm about done with this idiocy, and I have a line forming, and Smiley still isn't really answering the phone. I shut Mabel down, and tell her to bring in her receipt and we'll get her the items they can't find.
And then, Tuesday, the Saga Continues. And it's better in sequel form.
Mabel arrives. She approaches me at the Return Desk, and demands to know if I was working last night. God help me. She begins rooting in her luggage, er, ah, purse. She sets 2 quarts of some lacquer I've never even heard of before on the counter. She then tells the guy who is standing behind her, that he can go, 'cuz she's gonna be awhile. I should've put my finger down my throat and went home then.
The entire time I'm trying to help the hapless soul who took her at her word, she's talking to me. Not answering the questions I'm asking him, just talking to me. As if he didn't exist, and as if she hadn't told him to "go ahead."
Finally, it is her turn again. She refuses to hand me receipts, until I tell her (after checking, of course) that this lacquer isn't ours. She insists that it is, and hands me a receipt for stain. I call the paint department, and he says, "we don't sell that." 15 minutes of this, and she's not only talking about everything ELSE she wants to deal with--including the stuff Enos called about last night, and stuff she brought in to match up for the project they're doing. She still refuses to let me see her receipts.
I get through the return part of this...and we move on to dealing with the rest of her fast talking idiocy. Yet again, I get to hear the Saga of Enos & Mabel. Twice. She borrows my pen...so she can circle random numbers on the receipt she won't let me see. While telling me, for the billionth time, the Saga.
In the meantime, I actually get to answer the phone and transfer calls--all while she's blathering on...and on....and on...
Finally, I get the pen, and the receipt away from her. I've already told her that I can and will refund the stuff they called about. This launches yet another telling of the Saga. I find what I need on the receipt. Because I've been sucked into this particular level of Hell, I'm stupid enough to say, "Okay, I'm refunding 18 electrical outlets and..."
She leans in really really close to me, all bug-eyed, and says very snottily, " THERE WAS A GRAY ONE, TOO." She reaches for the receipt.
I respond with (in the same snotty tone) "YES. IF I CAN FINISH WHAT I WAS SAYING." I take a deep breath and make sure she's not getting that receipt away from me. "18 ALMOND OUTLETS. 1 GRAY ONE." and turn to the register to actually do the refund.
Remarkably, she launches the beginning of the Saga of Enos & Mabel AGAIN.
While praying for a bolt of lighting, a truck, an elephant, oh hell, ANYTHING to please strike me dead right now, I manage to complete her refund and send her on her way. Mostly because once I handed her those receipts, and saying the magic words "Have a good night", I walked as far away from her as physically possible.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
She Has Been Paying Attention!
Today at Sunday School, the lesson was about the "Saints of God." As in, any God-fearing Christian person who attempts to share the Word is a Saint of God.
During the discussion, of course, the children named our priest, deacon, the Toad, etc etc. The Howler names, specifically, her father. Good girl!
When asked if her mom teaches her about God also, she shrugs her shoulder and says, and I quote, "enh."
'nuf said.
During the discussion, of course, the children named our priest, deacon, the Toad, etc etc. The Howler names, specifically, her father. Good girl!
When asked if her mom teaches her about God also, she shrugs her shoulder and says, and I quote, "enh."
'nuf said.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Road Trip
Okay, not really. 30 minutes away isn't really a road trip, is it?
Today was the field trip for the Howler's school. 30 minutes away, and thank God for smallish miracles, I did not even have to ride the bus. I did, however, get to haul ass with my friend and neighbor, who as of yet has no nick. After this post, though, I'm sure to think up something totally vile to call her. She is Evil with Caffeine.
Actually making it to the point where we load ourselves into the vehicle and leave town was hilarious, mostly because we both spent a lot of time saying, "Dayum, I have to get one more thing." and ending up forgetting several things we thought we'd need for the trip: like our sanity.
She worked last night (over night) and was prepared with a sputtering urn of coffee. Which vomited coffee into the plastic bag she brought for it. She apparently felt she needed 48 gallons of coffee to make it through the day.
While at the park, she tells me, at one point, "You know, you're more attractive when you don't talk." Lovely. I'm your ride home, baby, play nice.
On the way home, she's like some loopy half drunken dingbat, totally mishearing what I'm saying...but in the meantime, she begins playing "Who'dja Rather?" and lists the endearing couple Loser Boy & his Lover. I, of course, throw up in my mouth a little. We then discuss Loser Boy, how disgusting he is, and, exactly, which objects and animals he would "rather."
At this point, after discussing various barnyard animals, she mentions that they have a dachshund, and how lucky it is to be a small dog.
I have a mouthful of water at this point, and I am driving...Thank God, again with the smallish miracles, that we were only going 40mph. I had to roll down the window and spit. I know, so very attractive, but really, we're lucky I didn't end up in a field!
She's such a good friend, she did ask me if any came out my nose.
Today was the field trip for the Howler's school. 30 minutes away, and thank God for smallish miracles, I did not even have to ride the bus. I did, however, get to haul ass with my friend and neighbor, who as of yet has no nick. After this post, though, I'm sure to think up something totally vile to call her. She is Evil with Caffeine.
Actually making it to the point where we load ourselves into the vehicle and leave town was hilarious, mostly because we both spent a lot of time saying, "Dayum, I have to get one more thing." and ending up forgetting several things we thought we'd need for the trip: like our sanity.
She worked last night (over night) and was prepared with a sputtering urn of coffee. Which vomited coffee into the plastic bag she brought for it. She apparently felt she needed 48 gallons of coffee to make it through the day.
While at the park, she tells me, at one point, "You know, you're more attractive when you don't talk." Lovely. I'm your ride home, baby, play nice.
On the way home, she's like some loopy half drunken dingbat, totally mishearing what I'm saying...but in the meantime, she begins playing "Who'dja Rather?" and lists the endearing couple Loser Boy & his Lover. I, of course, throw up in my mouth a little. We then discuss Loser Boy, how disgusting he is, and, exactly, which objects and animals he would "rather."
At this point, after discussing various barnyard animals, she mentions that they have a dachshund, and how lucky it is to be a small dog.
I have a mouthful of water at this point, and I am driving...Thank God, again with the smallish miracles, that we were only going 40mph. I had to roll down the window and spit. I know, so very attractive, but really, we're lucky I didn't end up in a field!
She's such a good friend, she did ask me if any came out my nose.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
A Mr Mumple Story
When you travel for your job, there are some strange things you can encounter. And My Sweetie tells me about 'em.
The other day, while out and about in the county, he & his trainee were replacing a windshield...the customer was a decent looking woman who, apparently, had very few wardrobe options.
She wore a short black robe. Emphasis on the "short" part. When done with the job, and awaiting payment (not that kind of payment, perv) she invited them inside the house.
Yeah. She showed them her pussy.
He was a Himalayan.
The cat had absolutely nothing to do with the short robe, but, of course, the fun is in telling it to your wife this way.
The other day, while out and about in the county, he & his trainee were replacing a windshield...the customer was a decent looking woman who, apparently, had very few wardrobe options.
She wore a short black robe. Emphasis on the "short" part. When done with the job, and awaiting payment (not that kind of payment, perv) she invited them inside the house.
Yeah. She showed them her pussy.
He was a Himalayan.
The cat had absolutely nothing to do with the short robe, but, of course, the fun is in telling it to your wife this way.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Hussy
Another adorable Frodo story:
Last night, at close, I had to run from returns to customer service. When I got there, Frodo asks me, "So are you a natural redhead or what?"
Because, apparently, working with me for 10 years, he'd never noticed before. Duh.
I just laughed. He sez, "Yeah, I thought so."
Since he knows my Aunt--she of the asshole questioning--I tell him a funny story.
When I first started coloring my hair red, my aunt comes to the Howler's birthday party and sez, "What in the haaaaillll did you do to your hair?"
I sez, "Why? Don't you like it?"
"You look like a goddamned hussy."
I laugh. She asks My Sweetie what he thinks of it, and he says he likes me as a hussy. (bwhahahahahahahaha)
Later on, we go to visit his family, and when I get out of the car, his father sez, "Oh." snort "I din know he liked redheads."
"Waaaallll, he likes this one!" big smile.
I confide to My Sweetie that his Ol' Man had a run-in with a redhead, and therefore, doesn't like 'em. I confide same to my mother-in-law. Neither of them know anything about it.
A year or so later, I get a phone call from my mother-in-law, informing me that they were going through some old pics of when the Ol' Man was in the service...and found pics of this woman who dun him wrong. She was a redhead.
HAH!
Last night, at close, I had to run from returns to customer service. When I got there, Frodo asks me, "So are you a natural redhead or what?"
Because, apparently, working with me for 10 years, he'd never noticed before. Duh.
I just laughed. He sez, "Yeah, I thought so."
Since he knows my Aunt--she of the asshole questioning--I tell him a funny story.
When I first started coloring my hair red, my aunt comes to the Howler's birthday party and sez, "What in the haaaaillll did you do to your hair?"
I sez, "Why? Don't you like it?"
"You look like a goddamned hussy."
I laugh. She asks My Sweetie what he thinks of it, and he says he likes me as a hussy. (bwhahahahahahahaha)
Later on, we go to visit his family, and when I get out of the car, his father sez, "Oh." snort "I din know he liked redheads."
"Waaaallll, he likes this one!" big smile.
I confide to My Sweetie that his Ol' Man had a run-in with a redhead, and therefore, doesn't like 'em. I confide same to my mother-in-law. Neither of them know anything about it.
A year or so later, I get a phone call from my mother-in-law, informing me that they were going through some old pics of when the Ol' Man was in the service...and found pics of this woman who dun him wrong. She was a redhead.
HAH!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
You Know You Love Me
So, at close of business tonight, Frodo has this approved employee purchase to make. I scan the crap, and he has his discount card out, ready to roll.
He sez, "Dammit! You're gonna need an override."
I tell him, "Nope. Give me your card."
He sez, "It's not really gonna matter."
I remind him, while rolling my eyes, "All employee sales are to have the card scanned."
Since the crap he was buying needed manually reduced, he suddenly remembers that our wonky system will jump the prices back up if you reduce 'em, then take the discount. He sez, "You'll have to re-do them."
I tell him, "Nope. Take the card first, then you don't."
He sez, "You're so excellent at this." as if this is a new fact.
I sez, "And that's why you love me."
He sez, "It's your lie, tell it how you want."
He sez, "Dammit! You're gonna need an override."
I tell him, "Nope. Give me your card."
He sez, "It's not really gonna matter."
I remind him, while rolling my eyes, "All employee sales are to have the card scanned."
Since the crap he was buying needed manually reduced, he suddenly remembers that our wonky system will jump the prices back up if you reduce 'em, then take the discount. He sez, "You'll have to re-do them."
I tell him, "Nope. Take the card first, then you don't."
He sez, "You're so excellent at this." as if this is a new fact.
I sez, "And that's why you love me."
He sez, "It's your lie, tell it how you want."
Saturday, October 16, 2010
No, Really, You ARE Stupid
Today, Frodo came out to the garden center acting all Secret Squirrel. He tells me, in his special Secret Squirrel Voice, that since the Weasel has left the building, and he's now totally in charge, the garden center will be closing. (Oh, yeah, I was OUTSIDE!!!!!! Today. Mood much improved, thanks for asking)
So, I go inside. Supposed to go to Lumber (killmekillmenow) and Frodo pages me, while I'm switching into my indoor glasses (btw, those prescription shades are about fantastic! Nobody can see my eyes rolling!) to tell me that I'm to go to the front line instead.
I spent 6 hours outside with little to no freakiness showing up. Other than myself, I mean. I'm inside for all of 3 minutes, and I have BillyJoeJimBob talking to me about whether or not he would need the cooler/dispenser contraption for the 5 gallon jugs of water. And asking if I know 'bout how much them thar thingies wood cost." Er, uh, I'm sorry, I don't. I'm trying not to actually look at any living breathing person, because, honestly, when this guy starting asking me if I thought he could just buy the 5 gallon jug and use it without the dispenser thingy, I was about be all "HAH!" at this guy.
Now, the pure genius that is the Hellhole has a person at the customer service desk who doesn't have access to at least 50% of the screens she needs to do the job. So this increases my chances of freakiness finding me. She looks over at me, and asks if I can do the credit card application, because she doesn't have access. (When Frodo shows up, I tell him--that's right, I'm not asking--to get her the access she needs, if he's gonna put her at that desk. I may have said, "DUH" in there also.)
The credit card application process itself is fairly simple...provided you can remember your address. Unlike Contestant #1, who fills out his address wrong. The best part is the more I tried to find the phrasology that would clue him in to this, the more he said, "What do you mean?"
No, Really, Dude, You ARE Stupid.
So, I go inside. Supposed to go to Lumber (killmekillmenow) and Frodo pages me, while I'm switching into my indoor glasses (btw, those prescription shades are about fantastic! Nobody can see my eyes rolling!) to tell me that I'm to go to the front line instead.
I spent 6 hours outside with little to no freakiness showing up. Other than myself, I mean. I'm inside for all of 3 minutes, and I have BillyJoeJimBob talking to me about whether or not he would need the cooler/dispenser contraption for the 5 gallon jugs of water. And asking if I know 'bout how much them thar thingies wood cost." Er, uh, I'm sorry, I don't. I'm trying not to actually look at any living breathing person, because, honestly, when this guy starting asking me if I thought he could just buy the 5 gallon jug and use it without the dispenser thingy, I was about be all "HAH!" at this guy.
Now, the pure genius that is the Hellhole has a person at the customer service desk who doesn't have access to at least 50% of the screens she needs to do the job. So this increases my chances of freakiness finding me. She looks over at me, and asks if I can do the credit card application, because she doesn't have access. (When Frodo shows up, I tell him--that's right, I'm not asking--to get her the access she needs, if he's gonna put her at that desk. I may have said, "DUH" in there also.)
The credit card application process itself is fairly simple...provided you can remember your address. Unlike Contestant #1, who fills out his address wrong. The best part is the more I tried to find the phrasology that would clue him in to this, the more he said, "What do you mean?"
No, Really, Dude, You ARE Stupid.
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