Is The Machine On?

Go ahead and press that red button before calling tech support.

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.”

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The Remote Douche


Why yes that man in the tank is playing an anvil in front of a full orchestra.

Some people are just such raging assholes it’s ridiculous. They call up customer service and bully the reps into giving them what they want, all while verbally attacking and putting down the people that are helping them. I at least have the satisfaction of knowing that when they call me, I could give a fuck about their general existence on this earth, let alone their stupid fucking TV problems.

A call came in and must have been a cell phone, because it broke up a bit. I thought it sounded like some sort of salutation, but I wasn’t completely sure.

Winston: “I’m good, how are you?”

Customer: “What? I didn’t ask how you were. I asked if you have my account in front of you. Is that too much for you to handle?”

Winston: “I have your account here, what can I help you with?”

Customer: “Well then why don’t you look over my account and figure it out yourself?”

Apparently bitching is easy, but explaining is far too difficult.

Winston: “Well I see you’re trying to order a replacement remote.”

Customer: “No, I ordered a remote five times and five of you idiots failed. If they were working for me, they would all be fired. You are in a position of authority and you need to get this done NOW!”

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I’m Still Not Satisfied

So I can report the thousands of Angry Assholes I talked to, right?
So now I can report the thousands of Angry Assholes I’ve talked to, right?

A lot of times, Angry Assholes just call in to complain. It seems like they aren’t actually calling to solve an issue, they just want to bitch someone out to make themselves feel better. They like to make a point to the call-center workers that they aren’t happy, which usually comes across loud and clear when they’re screaming “fuck you.”

One woman could not be appeased no matter what I did. She just wanted to be an asshole. Boy did she succeed.

Customer: “You better cancel my account or I’m calling the BBB!”

Winston: “Again, ma’am, I cannot cancel your account because we have a contract on file. Why don’t you tell me why you want to cancel and maybe we can figure out how to make the service better.”

Customer: “I’m not satisfied.”

Winston: “With?”

Customer: “Um…the signal.”

I put her on hold and surprisingly was able to get a tech out that same day and waive the charge.

Winston: “Well…it looks like I can get a tech to your home by this afternoon and I am able to waive the charge.”

Customer: “I’m still not satisfied.”

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Guilty By Association

Yes, that is in fact an OJ is not guilty pog.

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.”


Touché. I guess I’m guilty by association.

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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Marital Troubles

“Hey Oscar, you know Livius is a dude, right?”

Wowza! It’s been quite a week in the world of ESP. To all of you faithful readers, I am proud to announce that the blog was featured on Freshly Pressed. If you’re not savvy in blog lingo, that means ESP was chosen for the WordPress home page. I know, that surprised me too, I didn’t think they liked blogs with the word “fuck” in them, but, well, fuck me, they chose it anyway.

The Freshly Pressed feature led to a deluge of activity from the blogging world. In a matter of a few hours, ESP had more viewers than it had seen in its entire existence. True, that’s kinda sad, but I was very happy to see so many new folks. So to all of you bloggers that are new to ESP, thanks for following, reading, and sharing all the great comments. Now enough with the mushy stuff, lets get to what we do best around here: making fun of stupid people.

A call gets transferred my way because a customer is requesting a refund, and for some reason, that normal procedure is too complicated for the frontline agent, so the call is sent to me. I meet Loving Husband, who sounds like he came straight from a goddamn NRA convention.

Customer: “Yesir, I canceled that account, now I need my money.”

Winston: “I do see the account was cancelled as of today, and it looks like there will be about a $30 credit on the account after the equipment is returned.”

Customer: “No way man, I want all the money that was paid last time.”

Winston: “Well the last payment made was for about $70, but that went against the last month of programming. I can only refund a credit balance on the account, which again will be around $30.”

Customer: “Fine, I’ll take the $30, but Hell, y’all owe me all of that money. Stealing bitch.”

Was he calling me a stealing bitch? Or someone else?

Winston: “Can you read me the name on the card so I can make sure the refund is going to the right place?”

Customer: “It’s in my wife’s name, might as well say Dumb Bitch.”

At this point, all I could do was pause, revel in what was said, and repeat my same question. Kind of like, lather, rinse, repeat, but with stupidity instead of dirt.

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Top ESP Searches: Volume 1

Who needs glasses when you have a giant magnifying glass?

Even though most of the clicks on ESP are from a loyal base of highly intelligent readers, there are some genuine morons that find their way over to ESP as well. WordPress has a nifty little thing called, “Top Searches” on the admin page. It displays all the top search terms, words, and phrases that people use to get to ESP. In the early days, no one was really able to find ESP, as it barely made a dent on the ol’ Google. Yet as ESP has grown over the last year and half, more and more people are finding the blog through various search engines. Since I can see all the search terms, I can clearly tell that a fair amount of the people finding ESP are pretty fucking stupid. Allow me to elaborate with few of the top searches:

“My Wife Thinks I’m Stupid”

This is the top search for ESP, with variations such as, “Wife says I’m dumb” and “Wife thinks me stupid.” The dumbasses searching are always lead to my post entitled, My Wife Thinks I’m Stupid. All I have to say in response to that is, really? I mean, really? If a guy has to go online and search, “My wife thinks I’m stupid,” his wife is obviously right. What is he hoping to find with the search? A magic cure for stupidity? If that were the case, this blog surely wouldn’t exist. The entire Southern portion of the US wouldn’t exist either.

“DJ Jazzy Jeff”

I included a picture and a little dialogue about Will Smith, greatest rapper of all time, in a post called, She’s Just A Receptionist. Why in the fuck are people searching online for Jazzy Jeff, Will Smith’s cool sidekick on The Fresh Prince? Who has such little time in their day to allow them to say, “I wonder what Jazzy Jeff is up to?” I’ll answer that question for you: Not a fucking thing. Though you can feel free to peruse his official website, follow him on Twitter, listen to his terrible CD’s, or learn about him through the most accredited encyclopedia of all, Wikipedia. Or just watch reruns of The Fresh Prince, laugh when he gets thrown out of Uncle Phil’s house, and then forget about him completely.

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