There’s no denying Telescreen is an evil company. So very, very evil.
Big Brother, the dickweed that runs the place is one of the richest men in the US and treats his business like a totalitarian dictator. The company was founded on a set of principals where the upper echelon steps on others, manipulates employees, and will do anything in order to turn just the most miniscule of additional profit. I guess there’s a reason it keeps getting named the worst company to work for.
Surely, there are a lot of Telescreen customers that agree with that sentiment.
Customer: “Listen here pal, you may be a nice guy, I don’t know you. But you work for an asshole company and you know what? That makes you an asshole too. Good like with your life, asshole.”
I’m sure you’ve gathered by now that elderly folks and technology don’t mix very well. A large portion of my tech calls are simply telling them to press the TV button on the remote. These should be easy calls, but getting to that button pushing moment usually takes about ten minutes. To the clueless and elderly ESP’s, the remote is some sort of mysterious device that should be feared. And you know when ESP’s get confused (all the fucking time), they get pissed…at me.
One of my biggest problems with angry old assholes and the remote is the lack of pressing the select button. Yeah, actually selecting an option instead of staring at the screen waiting for something to happen. This is especially frustrating when you’re troubleshooting, because you assume they’re following along with you, but they’re miles behind. If you say go to the TV menu, you would think that means pressing the menu button or selecting the menu option, right? No, apparently it’s a real fucking toughie. I’ve had a lot of confusion over this one over the years, but one was pretty bad. Old Dumbass could not unravel the mysteries of the remote for the life of him.
What do we all want? To save money and get our way, duh. Fear not, gentle reader, I’ve got the inside scoop on the customer service system. In Super Department, I know the ins and outs of every facet of the call center. Scroll down to learn how to manipulate the customer service system and get anything you want.
This will be a continuing series that will first appear in posts, and then permanently be placed in a page called “How To Guide.” The customer service system can be manipulated as long as you know how to do it. I know all the secrets of Telescreen and I’m happy to spill them all…
How To Get Out Of A Contract
Nothing is a bigger pain in the ass for me than angry ESP’s and their contracts. I would sympathize with people if they weren’t such assholes, because Telescreen really can fuck people over with early termination fees. Fortunately there are many exceptions to get out of a contract and one very secret exception that you will soon be privy too, gentle reader.
TV companies love to fuck you over immediately when you sign up for service by locking you into a lovely little contract. Some even require signing a contract while others only give good promotions to those with a new contract. If you hang out with the TV company for two years, you’ll doubtfully have any problems. But shit happens. Sometimes you need to move, you lose your job, or you decide to live off the grid for awhile. Or there are TV companies like Telescreen that suck and have really shitty service that deserves to be immediately replaced by any other service provider.
Yet if you cancel early and break that agreement, you’re looking at a hefty early termination fee. The amount you pay depends on how much time is left on the contract, but with Telescreen, that can run well over 400 bucks. Do you know how many beers you can buy with that? A lot, that’s how many.
Every employee of any company dreads it. Just like when you were a kid and they had the principal’s office. Except instead of threatening to call your parents, they threaten to take away your paycheck. Yes, these are the fears of being sent to the manager’s office.
I was getting bitched out by some toothless hillbilly piece of shit who couldn’t count past six if it were on a Busch light can, so basically, just a typical day. On my extremely limited and time-monitored break, some of my fellow long-suffering employees were talking about someone who just got canned after being with the company for 12 years. Now in a call center, 12 years is like 100 fucking years. Considering the normal (smart) employee lasts weeks or months, that’s a big deal. So the gossip continued and I went back to work like normal. After my shift finally ended, I heard about some more people that seemed to be randomly fired. And then some more. Considering the constant hurt for employees and the high volume of idiot callers, this was seeming pretty weird. We all gossiped about our job security and those that were now free from Telescreen, and I left to join the real world, away from the evil dungeon known as Super Department.
The next day, I was back at it, this time helping some dumbass who could barely speak English add up a bill. Then up popped a chat from one of the supervisors who told me to go to the regional manager’s office. Now I’d been in the department manager’s office a few times, like in Don’t Get Mad And Leave, but never the regional manger’s. Once the failed math lesson was over, I slowly made my way to the office of the call-center regional manager, someone I had only seen at a distance after so many years of working in Super Department. It was like the fucking Wizard of Oz or something, except the she was a weird-looking chick and not a midget.
Gentle reader, the holiday season is upon us. I know you’re supposed to say “happy holidays,” but everyone knows that the big deal around this time of year is the birthday celebration of Jesus. Now I’m not a religious man myself, but I must say, many of the Telescreen customers come right out of The Bible Belt. They really love Jesus, and I’m sure they are getting all worked up over the big birthday bash this year. So in honor of His (you’re supposed to capitalize it because Jesus is that big of a deal) birthday, let’s look at some of the lovely sayings those folks in The Bible Belt have used in their efforts to make me a good Christian. If I go to church on Sunday, will it spare me from daily contact with ESP’s? If so, consider me a devout Christian from this day forward.
Customer: “Thank you so much, and remember, Jesus loves you!”
There are plenty of mysteries in the world. Stonehenge. Atlantis. Nascar. One thing that doesn’t need a fucking investigation is the quick fix of a Telescreen router.
An angry old asshole called in and got super pissed because he couldn’t understand technology. Yes, this is a daily occurrence. I mean, the guy got confused about absolutely fucking everything. I was surprised he could carry on a conversation at that matter. Well, by conversation, I mean him just complaining about the “damned Interweb.”
He couldn’t figure out why his “Interweb” suddenly “vanished.” Why? Because he’s a fucking moron. The mystery of the vanishing Interweb solved in four seconds.
After talking to him for a whole 20 seconds, I could immediately tell he was fucking stupid, caused this whole fucking problem, and that he was really just an asshole. Don’t blame me because you’re stupid, gramps.
Winston: “Okay sir, we need to reset the router. What you’ll do is unplug the power from the box…”
Customer: “Wait, what? You mean this damned Interweb machine?”
Winston: “Correct, you’ll need to pull the power from…”
Wow, it’s been almost a year since we’ve ridiculed ESP email addresses. I dare say this is long overdue. You know the old saying: Give an ESP an email account and they won’t know how to use it. Teach an ESP how to create an email account and they’ll make it something really fucking stupid.
firstname.lastname@example.org: What in the fuck is the point of this? Why would anyone in their right mind have the word “poo” in an email address? On second thought, why is “poo” in there twice? Sometimes I can’t even begin to rationalize the stupidity I encounter.
email@example.com: Well I think congratulations are in order. No, what am I thinking, this must be the email of a framing business, right? A nail manufacturing plant? Either way, I’m sorry Mr. Well Hung, but you didn’t get the job. Something about that email address really didn’t say “team player” or “problem solver.”
firstname.lastname@example.org: What the fuck does that even mean?
email@example.com: Everyone was wondering who Mike Wagner’s mom was. They especially wanted to know when an email came in. So Mike’s mom created an email account accordingly. Let us be clear that her name heeds no importance whatsoever. We just need to know that she’s Mike Wagner’s mom.
firstname.lastname@example.org: No way I’m answering an email from the Grim Reaper, even if that asshole can’t figure out how to turn on the TV.
Well gentle reader, it’s Halloween, the day we like to spend scaring the shit out of ourselves. That and eating candy, walking around looking like dumbasses, and getting really drunk. It’s a really great holiday.
Anyway, I thought what better way to enjoy this spooky day than to share some scary Halloween stories. What’s more frightening than an extremely stupid person? Not much, but lets see what we’ve got:
Customer: “I turned off the lights so they won’t find me.”
Fellow Agent: “Who?”
Customer: “The aliens. They’s after me. I be talking to you in a closet. Is this line secure?”
Assessment: Though I got this from a fellow agent, I can vouch that we don’t make this shit up. I know it sounds fake, but review every previous post and you’ll understand that people really are this fucking stupid. And aliens do go after illiterate Rednecks. SCARY.
One of my pet peeves in life is people with egos. Now this is a pet peeve in real life, beyond the confines of Hell on Earth (aka the Telescreen call center). Now these egotistical people like to flaunt their “status” in order to feel better about themselves. They need to put other people down to prove they’re “better” than them. This of course includes call center employees. Sure they may be more successful, make more money, and definitely have a better job than me, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t fucking stupid.
Winston: “Sir, I’m looking right here at your bill. All of the charges have been added up correctly. I even double checked with a calculator while I had you on hold, and everything adds up to $113.”
Customer: “No, you’re wrong. Your system is wrong. Hell, your calculator is wrong.”
Winston: “I can go through each charge again if you want, feel free to add them with me.”
I figured I’d teach him how to use a calculator and avoid this issue in the future.
Customer: “No, I don’t need you to teach me how to add, pal. Do you know who I am?”
Well hot damn gentle reader, we did it. We hit the century mark! 100 stories of stupidity. If you’ve been with me from the beginning, you know the impossible is possible. A normal person may believe in the intelligence of the human race. Yet we have 100 examples that there are some real fucking morons out there. Really dumb people. I’m talking about extremely stupid people here.
Now I’m not trying to be defeatist by any means, because quite a bit of good can come from 100 stories of stupid. Had a shitty day at work? Feel better by laughing at those with lesser intelligence. Did something dumb today? Boost your self-esteem by realizing you aren’t a dirty Redneck that can’t count past 2 (the number of Busch Lights ordered in a round at the bar).
I’ve got plenty more than a hundred stories, believe me. It seems like I can’t stay ahead of them. Everyday I go to the call center, really not wanting anyone to be so fucking ridiculous, but I’ll be damned, they just keep on coming. Endless stupidity.
So while we’re talking about numbers, allow me to enlighten you with a story about a man that got really fucking pissed over a really fucking small number.
Winston: “What do you mean you’ve been charged? Your service hasn’t even been setup yet.”
Customer: “I have my bank statement right here and I see a charge. I can send it to you, because I’m not blind!”