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.”
Anyone who’s ever worked in tech support knows the first thing you have to ask is always, “Is the machine on?” The funny thing is, ESPs kind of know this by now, and in most cases, they get pretty pissed off and confused when you ask them. To make things go a little smoother, I started asking ESPs if there are lights on their receivers because “machine” and “on” was just a bit too much for your typical ESP. That still wasn’t foolproof, as they wouldn’t just get pissed off and confused, but also would just say “yes” without fucking doing anything.
Now I ask them what color the lights are on the receiver to not only avoid pissing them off, but also to make them get off their fat asses and actually look. When they say, “None” that means it’s off. When they say, “What lights?” that means they’re lost and staring at the back of the fucking microwave. When they say, “You mean them blinky thingies?” that means there’s no hope in Hell of troubleshooting so I just need to send a tech.
Even though I find my sneaky method of finding out just how dumb people are in not being able to press power, there still is some pushback.
Customer: “I keep telling you the thing is on! Are you trying to ask me if I turned the damn receiver on?”
Winston: “Ma’am, if you could just look at the front of the receiver box and tell me what colored lights are lit up, that will give me a better idea of the state of your receiver box.”
We’re required to sign off from each call in a specific, stupid fucking way. No “goodbye,” “have a good day,” or “go fuck yourself.” It always has to be, “Thank you for calling Telescreen, have a great day.” When Big Brother and company listen to our calls, they mark us down for that shit. That in turn drops our performance ranking and means we don’t get our measly, shitty bonus. But that’s a story for another day.
Needless to say, we’re always about dropping our sign-off even after the customer hangs up, no matter how irrational. Since we get hung up on so frequently, you’d think our dipshit outro wouldn’t be needed. Not the case. This is what a call like that sounds like when customers get pissed and hang up.
Customer: “Well screw you and your damn company, I’m not paying a dime!”
Winston: “Thank you so much for calling Telescreen, have a wonderful day!”
Now that’s how you do a call right, at least according to the creeps listening in on us. I mean, you’d think it would suck getting hung up on all day, but it’s the best thing ever. When an ESP is losing their shit, you’re tired of hearing their stupid fucking voice complain about the dumbest shit, and then they hang up. Amazing.
Even though the employees can’t be creative in their sign offs, the customers sure can. Here are some of my favorites:
Talking to one ESP is bad enough. If you throw another ESP into the mix, you’ve got a fucking problem. As was the case when I was talking to some dumbass about sending a tech out to his house. The only caveat was that his wife was in the fucking background telling him what to say. Apparently he couldn’t think for himself. Or maybe his wife didn’t allow him to think.
Winston: “I’m happy to get someone out there to look at the issue, but I’m not able to waive the fee.”
Yelling Wife: “Ask him how much it’s gonna cost!”
Customer: “Yeah, how much is this gonna cost?”
Winston: “It will cost 50 dollars to send a technician out to your home.”
Customer: “He said fifty bucks.”
Yelling Wife: “Tell him to go to Hell!”
Customer: “Yeah, that’s not gonna work mister.”
Apparently he wasn’t very good at translating. He was supposed to tell me to go to Hell.
Yelling Wife: “Damnit, give me the phone! I want to give this son-of-a-bitch a piece of my mind.”
Well I guess we know who wears the pants in that household. Obviously she made him call Telescreen, but didn’t think he was doing a good enough job, so she took over. Lucky me.