Today at work, this happened:
Me: "May I have your brand and model number, sir?"
Customer: "1234fakemodel#."
Me: "Alright, sir, and may I have your brand, please?"
Customer: "Remote control."
I'm tired. Very, very tired.
To be fair, he was calling to order a remote control for his tv.
But fuck fairness, that dipshit called me "Lisa" for the whole call. Though I guess I should be grateful he didn't call me "Ginger". I'm still marveling over how anyone who isn't Helen Keller could mistake "Rachel" for "Ginger". . . .
Me: "May I have your brand and model number, sir?"
Customer: "1234fakemodel#."
Me: "Alright, sir, and may I have your brand, please?"
Customer: "Remote control."
I'm tired. Very, very tired.
To be fair, he was calling to order a remote control for his tv.
But fuck fairness, that dipshit called me "Lisa" for the whole call. Though I guess I should be grateful he didn't call me "Ginger". I'm still marveling over how anyone who isn't Helen Keller could mistake "Rachel" for "Ginger". . . .
Scene: two steps from my bed
Music By: "Devil's Haircut", Beck
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