In Fair Toronto Where We Lay Our Scene...
Nameless Computer Company incorrectly ships an expensive laptop to our store. The destination was clearly not supposed to be our address. We call Nameless Computer Company and inform them of the problem. We also call Mr. X at Computer Retailer Elsewhere Far and let them know that Nameless Computer Company is not only nameless but brainless and that we have his machine which he may pick up at any time. You're welcome.
Mr. X at Computer Retailer Elsewhere Far gets in his vehicle and travels 4 hours to our destination to pick up his mis-delivered machine as suggested. Upon arrival, he is highly disgruntled and very inappropriate to me and my colleagues. I inform him that my protocol is strictly to ensure that the right machine has finally reached the right person and can he please sign a photocopy of the packing slip (he gets the original), leave a business card bearing his name and business and lastly, show photo identification proving his claim. To this, he declares that I am, "A miserable little shit. This is fucking bullshit. I just drove four hours etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc..."
To this, our retail manager forces him out of our establishment telling him that if this were not a place of business, the consequences for such misplaced abuse would be far more severe.
Its times like these that I am reminded why I no longer wish to work in a manner that directly relates to customers.
Also? Dear Mr. X at Computer Retailer Elsewhere Far,
I have words of advice to aid you with your future encounters with any actual human beings out there:
Kill yourself.
This is not a joke. If you cannot realize who fucked up your order and further cannot understand that making you sign and prove your identity means insurance for BOTH you AND my company and that by doing so, we are doing you a service, your problem is much larger and more deeply seeded than is apparent on your surface. Perhaps you do not consume enough roughage to remain regular. I have just the best home remedy for you. Drink at least a quart of Drano. Kerosene would work too. Yup. That's right. Alternately, I recommend chewing thoroughly and swallowing a 4 ft florescent bulb so that your rotting insides are scraped clean with enough abrasive digging action to cure us of your continued existence.
Lastly, should you choose to heed my advice, please do not procreate before following through. I really wouldn't want to have to write this letter twice.
Most Sincerely,
Hubris Humility
Labels: asshat, computer, dick tree, drano, eating glass, fucktard, kerosene, kill, shipping, suicide
posted by Hubris @ 7/24/2007 02:45:00 PM
4 Joints a sparkin'
4 Comments:
That happens every once and a while. I remember this guy absolutely exploding on me back at SRC. Apparently the printroom couldn't get his print exactly right in a timely fashion. I was personally giving him excellent customer service. Reassuring him that they were doing the best they could with the ragged old prints from 1861 that he had brought in. That he wouldn't be charged for any of the prints that he deemed of low quality. What finally sent this guy into the stratophere is that he couldn't understand why after he rejected each and every print, why he couldn't take the rejects with him for free. I explained to him calmly that they would be properly destroyed by SRC, and he wouldn't be charged for anything. Apparently not taking home the prints that didn't work for him was just to much to fathom. His other option was to pay the price of the prints and make due with what the replica's that he got. I have several theories about this dipshit. One, he didn't have any money and thought that if he made a big enough scene, that I would simply give in and let him have his prints for free. Two, he was simply an old bitter and lonely man that had nothing better to do than spread hate and admire old building prints. Three, he was looking for a Satist. He liked being beaten down and simply longed for a person willing to give it to him how he liked it.
The good news was this. The owner of the company happened through in the middle of this tyrade and got involved. Upon my explaining the situation between this moran's profanities, the boss man gathered all of the originals up and flung them at the discruntled customer. Then proclaimed if the man refused to leave by the count of three, that the police would be called and he would escorted out by them. It was altogether awesome.
Later many employee's came up to me and told me not to worry about it. It wasn't my fault. Not worry about it? Are you kidding me. That guy was the most entertainment I'm going to have here for months. I'd like to see that shit again.
If you don't lose your cool. Calmly and assertively explain the situation and choices to a customer and they choose to freak the fuck out anyway, there is nothing you can do. Laugh at them. They are ridiculous.
Excellent example of turning disadvantage into advantage. Turn confrontation with noxious unappreciative human being into excellent and entertaining story to revive friends needing relief from mind numbing encounters with capitalism and repetitive drudgery syndrome. Write on.
hj
People suck.
-N
LSD - Yeah dude, I recall Bob being just that kind of owner that is more than happy to help someone out but it costs money. And when they turn bitch, he'd turn fucker.
HJ- Thanks ;P
Nat- word
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