I Know My Own Phone Number

Now there’s a phone number I don’t want to call.

One of the many problems with ESP’s is that they’re so fucking sure of themselves no matter how dumb they are. For some reason they always think they’re right and simply can’t be reasoned with. That’s why unfortunately you sometimes have to humor them and stoop down to their level.

Customer: “Could you do me a favor and call me back at a different number? It’s 555-5555.”

Winson: “Um, actually it looks like we’re talking on that number right now. Do you have another number you’d like me to call?”

Customer: “No, we’re not talking on that number.”

Winston: “Well, I see it right here on my phone. 555-5555.”

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The Mysteries of the Remote Control

“Where’s the call button on this damn cell phone?”

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.

Winston: “Go ahead and push the menu button.”

Customer: “What?”

Winston: “The menu button.”

Customer: “Where?”

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The Big Spender

A history lesson while I buy a Slim Jim? Score.

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!”

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Why Are You Here?

I ask myself that same question every time I walk into the call center.

Stupid People Say The Dumbest Fucking Things:

Winston: “Ma’am, please calm down.”

Customer: “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

Winston: “Ma’am…”

Customer: “The installer told me he would solve this, and now just look at my bill!”

Winston: “Again, I can’t see those charges on your account; they don’t show up on our end.”

Customer: “I know! That’s why they told me not to call Telescreen.”

Winston: “You mean, the main line here?”

Customer: “Yeah, they said, ‘Don’t call Telescreen under any circumstances’ or they’ll mess up your account! Boy were they right.”

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Telescreen Goes To Lunch

Even Beetlejuice needs a lunch break.

Stupid People Say The Dumbest Fucking Things:

Winston: “When did you try to cancel before?”

Customer: “Well I tried a few days ago.”

Winston: “That’s odd, I don’t see any notes on the account. Did you talk to an agent?”

Customer: “No, I ain’t talk to no one.”

Winston: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “Ain’t no one answer the phone.”

Winston” “What?”

Customer: “I tried to call and cancel, but I couldn’t get a hold of anyone. Ain’t no one answer that damn phone of yours.”

Winston: “Um, I’m not sure that’s possible.”

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Top ESP Searches: Volume 4

Oh, so that’s how Google does the street view thing. How green of them.

As intelligent as loyal ESP readers are, there are always a few stupid people that slip through the cracks and land on the blog. The dumbasses have to get to ESP somehow, and this is how they’re doing it:

“Im Extermly Stoopid Rigth Now”

That’s for damn sure. Now what’s the goal of that search?

“Stupid Business Casual Hobo”

What? Are you saying business casual is stupid or inquiring how a hobo would dress in a corporate environment?

“Call Center Agents Are Assholes”

Only if they create blogs retelling stories about their interactions with stupid fucking customers.

“Stupid People And Computers”

Yeah, they don’t mix very well. Please see every post on the blog as proof.

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Snakes, Scales, & The Devil

Well, they have pizza for lunch, so it must be safe…

Sometimes I get a call from someone, and all I can think is that the person must be a raging psycho. Like the fucking movie Psycho. Really. How thankful I am that people can’t murder me over the phone line. That is what I thought when I encountered a man we’ll call Norman Bates (the main character from Psycho, movie knowledge drop).

Winston: “Thanks for calling Telescreen, this is Winston, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Winston? Yeah, I was trying to get a hold of Jenny. Can you transfer me over to her?”

Winston: “Unfortunately it doesn’t look like she’s in today, but I can give you her direct extension if you’re ready for the number.”

Customer: “No that’s okay, can you just leave a message for her?”

Winston: “Not a problem, I’ll get an email right over to her.”

Customer: “Great. Could you please ask her why she’s so fucking stupid?”

I shit you not, verbatim, this fucking happened. A normal person would have been speechless, but to me, this was just another day. Little did I know what else lay ahead.

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