Memoirs of an Evil Genius
Conquering the World, One Martini at a Time

In Which Our Hero Takes a Call
10:01 a.m., 2002-11-19

In Which Our Hero Takes a Call

So I'm sitting here at work, and I'm seriously beginning to reconsider my college career in the food service industry. It wasn't so bad. I mean, verbal abuse and repeated physical injuries aside. One gets used to it, I guess.

See, right now I'm a receptionist. Okay, fine - technically I'm a temp, which is even worse, but I'm filling the role of 'receptionist' at this boat chartering company. It's a real pain in the ass. The phone keeps ringing, and then people start looking at me like it's MY job to deal with it...and I wouldn't mind answering the phones so much if the people on the other end weren't such assholes! I get calls like this:

Me: Thank you for calling Titanic Cruises, how may I direct your call?

Batshit Crazy Woman: Titanic Cruises.

Me: This is.

BsCW: No, you asked how you could direct my call, and I'm telling you. Titanic Cruises.

Me: This IS Titanic Cruises...what do you want?

BsCW: Do you do weddings?

Me: Yes, we do.

BsCW: You're not telling me very much!

Me: Well, what is it that you want?

BsCW: Weddings!

Me: We DO weddings...I don't understand what you want!

BsCW: You're not very much help!

Me: Eat shit and die.

This devolved into an entire conversation in which she asked about OTHER events we do, and proceeded to panic and chew me out when I told her we do cocktail cruises, because that evidently means that we no longer do weddings. Who knew cocktails and weddings were mutually exclusive?

I really hate answering this damn phone. At least in college, I knew what to expect in any random customer interaction: they would make ridiculous demands that no human being could possibly meet, and then they would make degrading comments about you to your face for failing to satisfy them. There was a system, see? I miss that. Sort of.

Oh great, now I'm going to cry.

2005 by Dr. No, all rights reserved; you break it, you buy it.

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