The Email Collection: Volume 5

“Hold on, I’m just reading our monthly email usage.”

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.

poopoo@wordpress.com: 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.

wellhung@wordpress.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.”

missiethang@wordpress.com:  What the fuck does that even mean?

mikewagnersmom@wordpress.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.

grimreaper2006@wordpress.com:  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.

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The Liar

You really have to appreciate an honest person these days.

The chances I believe a sob story from some Angry Asshole or any other ESP is about 5%. When I first started at Telescreen, I was young, naive, and ready to solve problems. You just lost your house? Of course I’ll cancel your account. You paid your bill even though we don’t show it was received? No problem, I’ll credit everything myself.

Then what happened was I wised up. Management was on my ass for breaking protocol. The customers were saying things that just didn’t add up. They didn’t want a solution, they just wanted to tell a dumb fucking story to get their way. So I realized I was going to call a bullshitter a bullshitter and wouldn’t believe a damn thing. That whole process happened in about an hour by the way.

Since I know 95% of the ESP customers are lying about something, I really enjoy calling them out on their lies. They claim they made a payment, so we call their bank and confirm they didn’t. They claim they sent back their receiver box, but we track it on the postal service website and see it hasn’t been sent. It’s a nice way of calling “bullshit” without actually saying “bullshit,” which is frowned upon in a call center.

One customer wasn’t just a bullshitter, she was a liar. Like a pathological liar. I don’t think she could’ve told the fucking truth if she tried. So I had no choice but to call “bullshit” every five fucking seconds. I’d say it was great to be right, but when dealing with an ESP, you’re always right. Unfortunately, the more wrong they are, the more pissed off they get.

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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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Conversations With Rex

I’m driving right that fuck past that supply store.

I tell you what gentle reader, there is just too much fucking stupidity for one man to ridicule by himself. I could spend all day, everyday, sharing ESP stories from my time at Telescreen and I’d still have posts leftover. Yet that’s just while I’m at work, because after I leave the dungeon known as the Telescreen call center, it’s stupidity on the roads, on TV, and inside mother fucking Perkins. I know you all have the same issue as you go about your intelligent lives, so I created “Your Stories” and “Your Posts” to allow you all to share the stupidity. The readers have definitely risen to the challenge, with tons of hilarious stories sent my way and posted as comments throughout the many blog posts on ESP.

Yet one man had far too many stories to share and wanted to start his own blog about stupidity. I think the idea came about with beer in hand, which is always the best way to make decisions. So I invited him to join me here on ESP because, I’ll be damned, two is better than one in the fight against stupidity. So now I will no longer be the sole writer on the blog, but will be collaborating with a new author by the name of Charlie Blue Dot.

Now Charlie has one Hell of a problem. He doesn’t work in an evil shithole like Telescreen. He doesn’t live in the backwoods of Mississippi. But he does live right next door to the craziest Redneck around named Rex. He has been telling me and everyone else the most ridiculous stories about Rex, but it’s not really about what Rex does. It’s always about the dumbest fucking shit that Rex says. So from here on out, Charlie will contribute to ESP by posting “Conversations With Rex.”

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Top ESP Searches: Volume 3

“Listen, you’re not gonna look cool unless your binocs match your shirt.”

Wow, these searches just keep rolling on in! I have more searches than brain cells left in my noggin after spending a couple of years chatting with ESP’s. Let’s get cooking with the stupidest of stupid searches before I lose the few braincells I have left.

“Rednecks From Mississippi Are So Dumb”

Yeah, no shit. Did you really need to search the Internet for confirmation? A pet rock could have told you that.

“I’m A Master of the Custodial Arts”

No, you’re a fucking janitor. I am not a master of the intelligent arts; I work in a fucking call center and am forced to interact with idiots all day. Let’s quit sugarcoating it, okay?

“Why Legs Don’t Move In Elder People”

Um, because they’re fucking old.

“Stupid People Gaga”

What the fuck?

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The Fail Agent

Epic fail.

Considering the type of employees at Telescreen, you would figure it’s not that hard of a job. If you barely need a high school degree, limited “customer service experience,” and must be a chain smoker with two kids driving a rusty pinto, you would think the job is pretty fucking easy.

From reading some of my past blog posts, I’m sure you also get the sense that this it’s probably one of the more stressful jobs out there. Take a normal cubicle job, but toss in appeasing the screaming toothless redneck while navigating ten different near-obsolete applications as quickly as possible, and you’ve got a recipe for a shit job.

Me, I like to keep shit simple. That turns a stressful job into sometimes, an easy job. For example, some dumbass calls in and starts bitching about their bill. I throw free shit and money at them. They then quit bitching, hang up the phone, and leave me the fuck alone. See how simple that is?

Of course it’s not always that easy, but if you strive for simplicity, it really makes the days a lot easier. In a place filled with ESP’s, easy is a key savior of sanity.

Some employees aren’t quite that enlightened. They go by the book and seem to think they can solve everything using the bullshit mandates from the upper echelon of Telescreen. Of course all of the rules thrown at us don’t help us with our jobs, but only impede them. You’ve got to think outside of the box, and well, actually think in the first place to survive the day to day.

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