Liz Verbatim

Adjectives and Nouns and Verbs and Such

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Noise Complaints

I love when our customers call us with noise complaints. I find this to be the ultimate cop-out when it comes to dealing with people directly, and wanting someone else to make the problem go away. Take Ms. Figgle, for instance. This woman evidently spends a lot of time at home and has little to do, because I hear from her at least twice a week with the same complaints - a noise complaint topping the list every time.

Ms. Figgle has noisy neighbors. Apparently so noisy that she can hear their conversations, had at a normal volume. The following are the things I dearly wish I could say to Ms. Figgle.

"Perhaps you don’t have noisy neighbors, perhaps you have oversensitive ears."

"You can hear them speaking at normal volumes? That’s fantastic! You’re in the prime position to be the neighborhood gossip. Just imagine the juicy little tidbits you could pick up!"

"How is their sex life? It must be deafening, even if it’s fairly vanilla. And if it’s exciting, good lord - do you have earplugs?"

"You’re quite right, the situation is unacceptable. I advise you to get new neighbors."

"Have you tried going over there and telling them to shut the f*ck up?"

Someday, I fully intend to have nothing but time on my hands. However, when I do, I don’t believe I will spend it complaining about stupid shit. Or maybe I will. Maybe I’ll complain about how lint collects between my toes when I wear socks, or how Ryan Seacrest’s face reminds me of a shaved monkey. Who knows? I could be the most ridiculous complainer in History.

Or not.

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Christmastime! Happy! YAY!

So, the title of this post is rather less than eloquent, but it pretty accurately represents how I’ve been feeling lately - and it’s not just the usual Christmas cheer.

For, oh, about seven years now, I have not been a Christmasy sort of person. I’ve been more of a Grinch than anything. In fact it was worse than that: all year long, I would excitedly await the coming of the Christmas season, only to be entirely apathetic once it arrived. No sparkle or carol could rouse me.

This year, however, Christmastime has arrived, and I’m thrilled. I don’t know why or how, but I’m just thrilled. I even endured Black Friday with aplomb. Okay, not total aplomb - more like a harassed sort of tolerance - but I DID IT. There are lights on my house, and the tree is up, and I have gingerbread men stickies on my window, and I’ve nearly got all the presents stacked in a pile (but not wrapped), and everything is just rosy. I’ve not been so happy listening to Christmas carols in years. Jose Feliciano’s Feliz Navidad came on the radio and suddenly I found myself shaking my maracas and singing along in the worst possible Spanish accent.  

I don’t know what’s come over me … but I like it!

On another and entirely unrelated note, I just tried a new conditioner and my hair looks faaaaaaaa-bulous.

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Going Public

Hello World.

Recently I took a call from Nevada; a gentleman calling to make a complaint with “the V-ah-P, prezzy-dent or SOMEone”. The man, who we will call Gordon, was very upset. Deeply and truly upset.

Gordon began as dramatically as he could. Think Broadway rookie at an audition. “I need to talk to someone about this. I have been mocked, laughed at, taunted …”

Liz: “Oh, that’s awful, sir. May I ask what happened?”

Gordon: “Well, let me tell you - the salespeople here - just so rude! - and I can’t even TOUR my own HOUSE -“

Liz: “That’s very disturbing, sir, but could you tell me what happened? And have you tried calling the Nevada division?” Let me guess: Nope.

Gordon: “No! I mean, nobody is there. It’s because of the holiday.”

Liz: “…Sir, if I’m working today, they are working today. Our offices do not close until tomorrow at 12:30pm.” Nice try.

Gordon: “Well I need to talk to somebody in charge of the Nevada division.”

Liz: “You’d need to call them for that, sir.” But you won’t.

Gordon: “Nooo no no! I mean the person in charge of Nevada from California!”

Liz: “Okay, let me see if they are in today. Could you explain the problem to me in the meantime?” If there was actually ever a problem …

Gordon: “I’m just trying to buy a home - the sales people were so - and I’m not the ONLY one who they’ve been rude to! You know, it’s just ridiculous - I’m spending half a million dollars on a house and - I guess I’m just the only one who will stand up and not take it anymore!”

Liz: “How frustrating, sir.” Yes, name-drop that dollar amount. Like I don’t know what a home we’ve built costs. Oh, no! He’s discovered our unrelenting and lifelong persecution of him, and HE WON’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

Gordon: “And I just need to talk to someone who will do something about this - you know, I could take this public!”

Liz: “Indeed, sir. This is just terrible.” Go public? You do that. In fact, let me find you the number for CNN. Let’s see how fast they jump on this one. I can see it now: “Scamming Prospective Homebuyer Unhappy with Treatment at Sales Office”.

Gordon: “I’m so upset, I just - you know, I have recordings of the saleswoman being rude. I could do it, I could go public.”

Liz: “You are absolutely right, sir, you could go public. But before you do, let me get the Nevada division on the line, and we can discuss this issue immediately. What are the names of the associates you interacted with?” Let’s dig up some legitimate backstory, shall we?

Gordon: “What? Oh - um…”

Liz: “After all, sir, our customer is always right, and naturally if you have a recording, we need to fire someone immediately.” Oh, there is none? Curious. Cue the backpedaling.

Gordon: “Well that’s not necessa-“

Liz: “Oh, no, sir, we’ll get this straightened out right away, just let me get Nevada on the phone -“

Gordon: :click:

Liz: “Well, what do you know. He hung up.”

Filed under the stupid hurts

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Service Request: Yesterday

Hello World.

Today I arrived at work to an Inbox full of service requests from our website. I sat down, hit the print button, and picked up the phone to begin dialing. I began dialing the first number, blinked, and hung up the phone. 

All of the phone numbers had extra numbers. A lot of extra numbers. 

All of the zip codes were for New York, Illinois, Kansas and South Dakota.

All of the requested service dates were for October 12th, 1985.

If the emails attached were real (I imagine not) and if the phone numbers would actually connect me to these jokers (instead of the Guangzhou province of China), I might just respond. Not with curses and angry expostulations, either. Oh no. If someone answered on the other end of the line, it might go like this. 

"Good Morning, is this Mr. Adrian? Your email address used to be crazyfrog@bleepmail.com? Yes, this is Liz from Jones HVAC. I have here in our system a request for service. Yes, sir, it traveled through time and cyberspace to arrive. I am so dreadfully sorry to be getting back to you 27 years late - you see, we didn’t get on the “computer train” until a little late in the game. I see you had access to a computer with some immediacy for the time! 1985, wow. I’m really impressed that you managed to program a request into a website that didn’t exist right around the same time Symbolics created the first domain name ever. You must be some kind of genius!

One has to wonder why, with all the usernames in the world available to you, you chose “crazyfrog”. I guess it was some kind of hilarious inside joke at the time, being that the 80’s caused massive brain flatulence for the entire planet. I’m sure while you were sporting that Member’s Only jacket and hacking into the future with your totally tubular first generation personal computer you weren’t thinking about all of the other awesome username options available.

Anyway, I have an opening for Tuesday morning between the hours of 8 and 11 am, does that work for you? Yes, sir, I have your location here as Buffalo County, Nebraska. We will send a technician back in time on Tuesday morning to service your unit. Please notify your past self that we will be arriving. What do you mean, you can’t? Don’t you have a time machine? Well, what about a teleporter? Those have been known to work in a pinch, if you turn the dial into the red zone. At any rate, we’ll see you on Tuesday. Have a nice day!” *click*

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Some Questions (& Run-On Sentences)

Questions for the artists whose mediocre and uninteresting art is inexpensive but high-end looking enough to decorate model homes and apartments: Do you know where your art is being used, or do you just care that it’s selling? If you did know, wouldn’t you just give up being an artist? Your work is so bland that all it’s good for is completing a color scheme. This is the consensus of other artists, namely interior decorators who cannot afford to put real and excellent art in homes where it may potentially be stolen off the wall. (This is also why almost everything in model homes and apartments is glued down. No joke.)

Questions for musicians who play haunting piano music that eventually sounds like every other haunting piano piece ever written and is used in doctor’s offices to calm your nerves as you sit there contemplating how big the needle will be: Do you listen to every other pianist’s compositions and then sit down in the mindset that you will make it better? Do you know it all starts to sound the same after awhile? Do you know you may only gain minor notoriety and/or fame when a middle-aged woman who hasn’t been laid in years hears a piece you performed played as a soundtrack to a Lifetime or Hallmark tear-jerker and they buy your album based on the emotions you helped wring from them during the scene where Jake and Rebecca finally share that passionate kiss? Do you know your “fame” will be passed on like a quickly dying pyramid scheme, when ladies in her book club or church group have it forced upon them and only then after they watch the movie? Was it always your dream to play over the sound of the dentists drill, as though your compositions will numb the pain and fear of the victim in the chair? 

Just wondering.