Just as people amaze me with their stupidity, others baffle me with their cruelty. Hence was the case with The Fuck Guy. This piece of shit yelled fuck at me every other word. If I paid him $50 (which is a lot of money if you’re a dumb redneck) to stop saying fuck for one minute, he would lose the money immediately. Then he would threaten to shoot me for taking his $50. It’s a dumb redneck thing.
An agent calls me over in Super Department and tells me this dickface is complaining about something that I don’t remember or give a fuck about. Before she transfers him, in a shaky voice, says, “Be careful, he’s really profane.” Lucky me.
Winston: “Thank you for holding, my name is Winston, I am here in the Super Department of Telescreen to resolve your request today. Could you please explain to me what’s going on?”
Customer: “Yeah, well, blah, blah, complain, complain…”
Then his voice starts to raise and I begin to turn the volume on my phone down. I have to do that at least five times a day, no joke.
Customer: “…and then one of you motherfuckers are telling me I can’t fucking cancel! What the fuck is that? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’ve called fifty fucking times, I’m tired of this fucking shit, fucking fix this motherfucking shit right fucking now!”
Did I mention he had been a customer with Telescreen for three days?
Customer: “So tell me Winston, what the fuck are you gonna do for me, huh?”
Winston: “Well sir, we can certainly cancel your account, and I can see if there’s some way we can waive the cancellation fee.”
Customer: “Good, I’m not waiting on this fucking phone anymore. You go talk to you’re big fancy fucking boss and call me back.” *Click*
Basically The Fuck Guy wants me to cancel his account because he was too stupid to understand what was initially offered when he signed. Angry people are usually stupid too. I go talk to my supervisor and she tells me to waive his $400 cancellation fee, most likely because she didn’t want to have to deal with the guy herself. I then go and give him a call back. Lucky me.
Winston: “Alright sir, I went ahead and cancelled the account for you and waived the cancellation fee.”
Customer: “Well then you better get some fuck to come out here and take your fucking equipment.”
I again waive a shitload of fees, break a bunch of business rules, and get some poor asshole scheduled to come take The Fuck Guy’s equipment.
Winston: “Alright sir, it looks like we got everything figured out. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
Customer: “Now you tell those fucks over Local Internet to quit fucking calling me.”
Winston: “I’m sorry sir, but I have no control over our competitors and their marketing calls.”
We officially climbed to the top of shit mountain. The Fuck Guy has a hernia and begins yelling at me, obviously with “fuck” dropped every other word. Amidst the onslaught of f-bombs, he throws out a sob story.
Customer: “Do you know I’m disabled? I can’t fucking walk!”
The inner Winston suddenly comes out. I lose my cool and state quietly, but audibly:
Lucky for me, dipshit is too busy having a hissy-fit to hear me congratulate the fact that he’s crippled. Then he ends the conversation with a nice salutation.
Customer: “Fuck you, fuck Telescreen, and fuck everybody there.” *Click*
Winston: “Well, thank you for calling Telescreen, have a wonderful day.”
I sure hope you enjoy your day of running, jumping, skipping, walking, frolicking…
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