Alright, listen up, Turkeys*!
I know that I said** that I’d stray away from stuff that is too real-lifey, like work, but this is so surreal that it had to be broached as a blog subject, because as we know sometimes, a subject just need to be broached. That is honestly the first and only two times I have ever used the word broached. Three now, but who’s counting? Shut up.
Anyways, as I was saying (no more interruptions, people***), my day was rather lackluster today. Lots of boredom, lots of reading about London on wikipedia.org.
Basically, an awesome day.
I decided to go for lunch. Tasty stuff. Yum.
While I was away, I recieved not three, but two voicemails from some woman. The first voicemail explained, quite thoroughly that she was looking to sign out**** a few episodes of the Sunday Night Sex Show. The second one was pretty much her rambling about how she wasn’t sure if I got the first voicemail or not, followed by her repeating, word-for-word, the entire first message. Also, I was not impressed with her tone. We’re off to a bad start.
I called the number she left, and got her voicemail.
I can see where this is going.
I left her an equally detailed message, explaining what she’d need to do to sign these tapes out. At least, I think I left a detailed message…I tend to zone out when my give-a-damn meter gets lower than ¾.
Eventually, she called back, and started with the small-talk.
Here’s the thing: I don’t much care for people. Like don’t get me wrong, I’m not some awkward little weirdo (shut up) who write in his blog every time he sees a dead bird on the lawn and hates society. I’m just a busy guy (did you know in parts of London, they call their version of white trash “Scallies” or “Chavs”?), and when I am at work, I don’t really have time to talk to people about things other than where a tape is, and the many reasons as to why it is not my fault that it is there and not here.
Back to the small-talk: she jibba-jabbered at me for a while, asking me how to pronounce my last name, what nationality I was, etc. Apparently, the astute observation that Ukrainians are known for their awesome eggs was needed, as was the follow up that I am known for my awesome eggs. I’d say that was some sort of pseudo-sexual innuendo, but we’re dealing with a fruitbat here. One of those ones with like a 2-ft wingspan.
Those bats kick ass. I once did a project in highschool on bats…the teacher failed me because I wrote it so well that he assumed I plagiarized. Also, I never put up the bat house that I built which was supposed to make up the 25% practical part of the mark.
Stop changing the subject.
She continued talking, and eventually she bumped her head in just the right way to remember why she was wasting my precious time*****.
We talked some more, and then she decided she would come by in an hour and a half to pick up the tapes. She asked about direction on how to get here. I’m like “you know where Post is?” and she’s like “No, I mean you guys are on Jefferson?”.
Hmmm.
I asked her what she needed the tapes for, and she said “personal use”.
The following is an approximate re-telling of the conversation from that point on, colour-coded for your enjoyment:
“Are you a Corus
Employee?”
“I don’t think so, what’s a
Corus Employee?”
*Explains*
“Oh. Can you
explain again what exactly a Corus Employee is?”
*Explains again. Slower.*
“Oh. How do I become a Corus Employee?”
“You need to get a job at Corus Entertainment.”
“How do I do that?”
*Bangs head
into stapler*
“Well, can I just come and view
them there?”
“No…blah…internal clients
only…blah-blah…security…”
“Oh, are you sure?
Nothing would happen to them!”
“I am
sure”
“What about if I got in contact with the W
show I was supposed to be on? Would that count as being a Corus
Employee?”
*Explains again, this time to
broken stapler, which manages to grasp the concept*
(People have been
standing around waiting for 15 minutes…I contemplate hanging up, then moving to
different workstation incase she called back)
“Alright, what I can do is check the W Network website *frantically clicking on the site to find anything of use* …ah, what
you would need to do is call Viewer relations, and they will be able to help
you.”
“Will they be able to help
me?”
“(probably not…) Definitely! Good
talking to you!”
Loo…nee…TOONS!
I seriously haven’t the foggiest what happened there. Alls I knows is that there are a number of minutes of my life that will not be refunded to me at any point soon.
I hope that I never talk to her again. Oh, yeah, and also that Viewer Relations was able to assist one of our beloved viewers.
Man…that’s what you get for watching W, I guess.
…Man…
Dyko
P.S. No idea what the title has to do with anything. Wait, maybe I do...maybe it is
you who is un-informed******! Mwahaha!
* Been a while since I’ve unleashed that old chestnut, I assume!
** Maybe? I don’t know…who the hell do you think I am? That’s it. I’m angry now. Close
this window.
*** I update so seldomly that I know consider whatever deep probing program it is that puts ads in my comments section a reader.
**** I’ve explained before (see “**”) hat I work in a media library. That sounds ridiculous…a media library as opposed to, what, a concept library? What else would a library have aside from media? Stop interrupting. This library is at a certain entertainment company…why am I explaining this? Scroll back up and continue…
***** Currently trading at like $3.24 an hour
****** It's not
