When I’m on the phone, I like to keep my conversations private. It’s not like I’m always talking about some confidential shit, I just don’t want some stranger listening to every detail of my life. Unfortunately, stupid people don’t feel the same way, as I know far too much about these assholes and their daily adventures in stupidity.
I’m troubleshooting with a customer, trying to fix some shit on her computer. We’re waiting and waiting for multiple prompts to download. This is old Winston’s favorite type of call, because it involves lots of time to just sit around and wait. This means more watching TV, playing iPhone Scrabble, or staring at the clock and seeing if it could possibly move any fucking slower. I have to hang out on the phone while each step downloads, and all the while, this lady is carrying on a very intense conversation with her man.
Apparently, she didn’t get the memo that you should remove the phone from your mouth so that the poor asshole on the other line doesn’t have to hear everything you’re saying. I mean, I could hear everything involved with her little rant, and I’ll be god damned, but it sounded like a fucking Maury episode. I was waiting for security to come in and break up the fight when the paternity results were in.
The problem was, I could barely understand what this lady was saying. She was yelling so fast, I think Jerry Springer would have had to put subtitles on the screen to help his high-quality audience figure out what was going on. I did gather a few details though, let me try to do some literal translations.
Actual: “Shaquanda be a ho!”
Translation: The permiscuous actions of this young lady have build up a reputation within the community that is far from reputable.
Actual: “She be playin’ around all up in this mutha fucka!”
Translation: The aforementioned actions of this lady have involved multiple male members within the community.
Actual: “If she ever come up in here, she gonna get it!”
Translation: If the two ladies in question happen to find themselves within the same general vicinity, call Steve Wilkos, pull up a chair, film that shit, and post it on You Tube for the whole world to see.
The funny thing about this lady, was that she was very polite to me the whole time. Her rants about Shaquanda would be interspersed with, “Yes sir, the download is still on the screen, thank you very much sir.” After everything was downloaded and her computer was working again, things got awkward. I quote this verbatim: “Thank you very much sir, and by the way, you gots yourself one sexy ass voice. Mmmm!” Don’t get me involved lady, I’ve seen the chairs they throw on Springer, and they look fucking painful.