I’m Going To Die And You Don’t Care

For three months at Telescreen, I had successfully avoided one terrible type of call. Yet I knew it was coming and that I would eventually meet my fate. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I experienced my first crier. We’re not talking about someone getting a bit choked up, we’re talking about tears running faster than fucking Niagara Falls. I would have felt bad, but the customer was an asshole. I never feel bad for assholes, that’s one of my golden rules.

Before Waterworks was crying, she was yelling, obviously. Bitching is a favorite pastime of my friendly customers.  She was complaining about a cancellation fee. I hate to break it to you lady, but when you sign a contract, I can’t magically waive a cancellation fee. You probably shouldn’t have signed the contract in the first place, but unfortunately, I wasn’t there to tell you that Telescreen was a piece of shit company.

Customer: “You take my money, you are bad, bad man!”

Winston: “Ma’am, as I explained before, the cancellation fee is implemented when you break your contract.”

Customer: “What do you mean? I sign nothing.”

I should have probably refrained from using words like “cancellation” and “implemented.” In the future, I’ll stick with simple words repeated over and over, such as, “Money, pay, now, dipshit.”

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Three Rupees A Day To Talk To Idiots

Customer: “Are you American?”

How many fucking times am I going to be asked that? Generally it’s from assholes who think camo is awesome and that dipshit Tim Tebow is a god.

Winston: “Yes I am American, how may I help you today?”

Customer: “I am tired of this terrible lack of service! I have been sent to India three times and they haven’t been any help!”

Cut them some fucking slack. It’s not their fault they’re getting paid three rupees a day to talk to idiots.

Customer: “Well I couldn’t understand them and they weren’t willing to help me at all!”

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