Proper Credentials

“Hey bros, which way is the toga party?”

When a customer calls in, I assume they’re stupid. I know it’s not right to judge, but I’ve done the research. I’ve spoken to thousands upon thousands of extremely stupid dumb assholes, so by now, my assumptions can be treated as facts.

Some of these dipshits simply don’t want to admit they’re stupid. It’s the ones that refute their lack of intelligence the most that end up being, well, the stupidest. Usually they argue and accuse me of implying they’re stupid (which I do) or thinking they’re stupid (which I do).

Yet only one man was brave enough to provide me with the proper credentials to prove his intelligence:

Winston: “Well sir, I’ve looked at your bill and everything seems correct. I’m still showing you owe $75.68.”

Customer: “Let me ask you a question. Do you understand who you’re talking to right now?”

Winston: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You’re talking to the head of the optometry school at the University of Virginia.”

Um…no one cares.

Customer: “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t be able to add up my own TV bill?”

Yes, I absolutely 100% think you’re too stupid to understand simple math.

Customer: “Now I don’t know what game you’re playing over there, but I expect to be credited that $75.”

I have to ask a few questions here. First of all, you need to chat with your pals at the optometry school and get yourself a pair of glasses, because you obviously can’t see shit on that bill. Second, bragging about being the head of a school doesn’t really hold much weight when you’re arguing over a bill to some worthless asshole in a call center. Third, didn’t they make you do math in all those years at the “university?” Fourth, what the fuck does the head of the optometry school exactly do? Are you the dean or the head janitor?

Winston: “Sir, I can’t credit you money that isn’t owed. Both you and I are looking at the same bill, and both of us can see that you in fact do owe us $75.”

I’m sure you can guess where this all went from there. I’ll give you a summary: dickweed has a shitfit, demands a “manager,” and then gets credited the money. Apparently he was trained in negotiation on his road to becoming the head janitor of the optometry school.


2 thoughts on “Proper Credentials

  1. Oh, yeah, I feel you there. At my old job, we had a lot of the “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!?” temper tantrums from yuppie douchebags who honestly thought I gave a damn that they were in the National Honor Society in high school. They were right up there with the dickweeds who wouldn’t listen to basic instructions (such as trying to pay by American Express when specifically told “the utility company in question takes payment via debit card or electronic check”) and then scoff “I was a computer programmer for IBM for twenty years, and your system is broken! You hear me! IBM!” Two particulars stood out in all of that time, and one involved a woman whose response to being told she’d misentered her credit card number was “That’s impossible! I was PHI KAPPA DELTA!”

    Oh, and the other? A co-worker got a call from a washed-up Seventies-era fantasy author (I won’t name names, but he was also responsible for grunting out the novelization for Star Wars: Episode One nearly fifteen years ago) who wouldn’t accept that his electric bill payment wasn’t going through. He almost reached through the phone to chew off my friend’s ear, telling him “You don’t understand. I’m a New York Times bestselling author, and I don’t make mistakes!” The irony? The card was overdrawn.

    • That’s so funny, those stories definitely rival mine. Who would have thought that a bestselling author could make mistakes, let alone a member of a Greek organization?

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