Convos from hell
Y'all know I have a niggling piece of straw in my underpants about service people who can't do their fucking jobs. Well, I have two short ones more to share:
D'ye recall my tirade about the bitches who answer the phone at my Local Farming-Type Place?
Yup, you guessed it. I had the misfortune to have to ring them again.
Convo number two:
Dumb Bitch: "Hullo"?
Me: "Hey! I was by there the other day looking for a carry-all and y'all had sold the last one. i was wondering if any more had come in?"
DB: "You lookin for Newberry Farming-Type Place or Newberry Farm and Garden Type Place?"
Me: "Uh ... Newberry Farming Type Place"
*silence*
Me: "I was just --"
DB: "And you needed what?"
Me: "A carry-all. It's a piece of 3pt equipment --"
DB: "Well, I don't know nuthin' about that! Ho'd on."
Uhm, so am I the asshole here or what? If you work for a place whose job it is to sell tractors and tractor equipment but knew fuck-all about tractors and tractor equipment, why the Blue Fuck are you answering the phone?!
Next Convo:
OK, my dumb arse did something spectacularly idiotic that same day by running low on petrol a looooong way away from the only reasonable petrol station in the area. Subsequently I had to stop in a teensy nearby asshole of a town where petrol was over 20c more expensive per gallon.
Well, I live almost on a huge, v. popular lake, the shoreline of which is replete with folks who have more money than sense. What evar. But one of the things these denizens of the lake do is they have no prob filling up the old Monster SUV at any convenient station.
So wee asshole-town station was packed with huge I've-got-a-small-penis-but-lots-of-money Dodge Rams and Ford F-250s and one ugly Lexus SUV.
Well, there were two pumps (four slots) and I queued up behind the car at the outermost pump.
Did you hear what I just said?
"Behind the car at the outermost pump"
Was that in any way confusing?
Just checking.
So I go in, grab a diet Coke, and walk up to Whitney Whitetrash behind the counter. I set the Coke on the counter and take a tenner out of my wad o' cash (hah!) and hold it up helpfully.
WW: "Ziss it?"
Me: "Hey! No. I'd also like ten dollars worth of regular, please. I'm behind the guy at the outside pump. In the silver minivan."
It's a teensy place, so I simply point at my minivan. It's about 25 feet away, max, and every other vehicle save the one in front of mine was a pick-up.
She frowns in fine bovine fashion through the big plate glass window.
WW: "Yerrrrrrr ....?"
Me: "Behind the car at the outermost pump. The farthest pump."
WW: (points at the white Lexus SUV in front of my clearly visible silver van) "That car?"
Me: (misunderstanding) "Yep"
WW: "But he's pumping his gas."
Me: "No, I'm behind him. In line. Behind him. The silver minivan."
WW: "So ... you're not actually IN the car ..."
This stumped me so much that I didn't reply. Of course I'm not in the car. I'm standing right here ...
WW: "... the white car?"
Me: "No, no, I'm driving the silver minivan behind the white car."
She frowned out the window again and I was beginning to think the cooling fan on her brain had gone wonkey. Plus I was getting frustrated.
Me: (stepping partway out the door and pointing elaborately) "See the white car? I'm behind the white car. I need $10 worth of regular. (waves ten spot) In the silver minivan behind the white car!"
WW: (petulantly) "OK, ok. I'm sorry!"
Me: "not a probl--"
WW: "I cain't even put it in till he finishes pumping his gais, anyways!"
Me: (to self: Well, duh, honey. I cain't even pull up to the pump till he leaves.) "However works best for you!" (winning smile)
Again, was I just the dumb asshole here? Did she come from a planet that had no knowledge of minivans? Was she colourblind? Had she never been exposed to any of those delightful children's books that explore the spatial relationships of objects? ("The teddy bear is behind the green train!")
Ahh! I've got it! Clearly, I'm so poorly spoken that even the simplest folk have a difficult time understanding me.
Must work on that.
D'ye recall my tirade about the bitches who answer the phone at my Local Farming-Type Place?
Yup, you guessed it. I had the misfortune to have to ring them again.
Convo number two:
Dumb Bitch: "Hullo"?
Me: "Hey! I was by there the other day looking for a carry-all and y'all had sold the last one. i was wondering if any more had come in?"
DB: "You lookin for Newberry Farming-Type Place or Newberry Farm and Garden Type Place?"
Me: "Uh ... Newberry Farming Type Place"
*silence*
Me: "I was just --"
DB: "And you needed what?"
Me: "A carry-all. It's a piece of 3pt equipment --"
DB: "Well, I don't know nuthin' about that! Ho'd on."
Uhm, so am I the asshole here or what? If you work for a place whose job it is to sell tractors and tractor equipment but knew fuck-all about tractors and tractor equipment, why the Blue Fuck are you answering the phone?!
Next Convo:
OK, my dumb arse did something spectacularly idiotic that same day by running low on petrol a looooong way away from the only reasonable petrol station in the area. Subsequently I had to stop in a teensy nearby asshole of a town where petrol was over 20c more expensive per gallon.
Well, I live almost on a huge, v. popular lake, the shoreline of which is replete with folks who have more money than sense. What evar. But one of the things these denizens of the lake do is they have no prob filling up the old Monster SUV at any convenient station.
So wee asshole-town station was packed with huge I've-got-a-small-penis-but-lots-of-money Dodge Rams and Ford F-250s and one ugly Lexus SUV.
Well, there were two pumps (four slots) and I queued up behind the car at the outermost pump.
Did you hear what I just said?
"Behind the car at the outermost pump"
Was that in any way confusing?
Just checking.
So I go in, grab a diet Coke, and walk up to Whitney Whitetrash behind the counter. I set the Coke on the counter and take a tenner out of my wad o' cash (hah!) and hold it up helpfully.
WW: "Ziss it?"
Me: "Hey! No. I'd also like ten dollars worth of regular, please. I'm behind the guy at the outside pump. In the silver minivan."
It's a teensy place, so I simply point at my minivan. It's about 25 feet away, max, and every other vehicle save the one in front of mine was a pick-up.
She frowns in fine bovine fashion through the big plate glass window.
WW: "Yerrrrrrr ....?"
Me: "Behind the car at the outermost pump. The farthest pump."
WW: (points at the white Lexus SUV in front of my clearly visible silver van) "That car?"
Me: (misunderstanding) "Yep"
WW: "But he's pumping his gas."
Me: "No, I'm behind him. In line. Behind him. The silver minivan."
WW: "So ... you're not actually IN the car ..."
This stumped me so much that I didn't reply. Of course I'm not in the car. I'm standing right here ...
WW: "... the white car?"
Me: "No, no, I'm driving the silver minivan behind the white car."
She frowned out the window again and I was beginning to think the cooling fan on her brain had gone wonkey. Plus I was getting frustrated.
Me: (stepping partway out the door and pointing elaborately) "See the white car? I'm behind the white car. I need $10 worth of regular. (waves ten spot) In the silver minivan behind the white car!"
WW: (petulantly) "OK, ok. I'm sorry!"
Me: "not a probl--"
WW: "I cain't even put it in till he finishes pumping his gais, anyways!"
Me: (to self: Well, duh, honey. I cain't even pull up to the pump till he leaves.) "However works best for you!" (winning smile)
Again, was I just the dumb asshole here? Did she come from a planet that had no knowledge of minivans? Was she colourblind? Had she never been exposed to any of those delightful children's books that explore the spatial relationships of objects? ("The teddy bear is behind the green train!")
Ahh! I've got it! Clearly, I'm so poorly spoken that even the simplest folk have a difficult time understanding me.
Must work on that.
posted by MrsEvilGenius at 10:22 AM
1 Comments:
Holy shit. I love you. I seriously love you. You are a woman after my own heart. Fucking hilarious!
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