Call Centres
Dreadful pits of hellish torture for both customer and the people who work there. Press 1 to leave an amusing story, press 2 for us to send you a lunchbox full of turds.
( , Thu 3 Sep 2009, 12:20)
Dreadful pits of hellish torture for both customer and the people who work there. Press 1 to leave an amusing story, press 2 for us to send you a lunchbox full of turds.
( , Thu 3 Sep 2009, 12:20)
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Could have gone in last week too....
Me: "Ambulance Emergency. What's the problem? Tell me exactly what's happened."
Caller: "The little people are there. They're attacking me again."
Me: "So, you say you're being attacked by people. Is that right?"
C: "Yes. They're on top of my fridge. Aaagh...they're screaming at me."
Me: "Ooooookaaay. So how long has this been going on for?" (Oh fuckit, she's on a mobile so no fixed address.)
C: "Yearsandyearsandyears. MAKE THEM STOP."
Me: "OK, just stay calm. Can I take your address please?"
C: "You know where I am. YOU ALL KNOW WHERE I AM!"
Me: "Unfortunately I don't. I know you are in the xxxx area of London but I need a specific address"
C: "If I give you my address the Nazis will find me"
At this stage the dispatcher is mouthing "get a fucking address or I will dig out your heart with a rusty spoon" at me. And of course, the number search comes up with fuck all....
Me: "Look, can you give me a postcode?"
C: "Do you PROMISE you wont tell the Nazis?"
Me: "I promise"
C: "If they find me I'll know it was you. I know your phone number now."
Me: "Yes, it's 999...so can I have that postcode?"
C: "It's NWXX XXX"
Me: "So you're on XXXX Street?"
C: "HOW DO YOU KNOW? AARRRGH! NAZI"...click...brrrr....
Eventually got her number from Vodafone. The crew informed me that she had a very large and shiny collection of sharp things.
( , Fri 4 Sep 2009, 9:03, 2 replies)
Me: "Ambulance Emergency. What's the problem? Tell me exactly what's happened."
Caller: "The little people are there. They're attacking me again."
Me: "So, you say you're being attacked by people. Is that right?"
C: "Yes. They're on top of my fridge. Aaagh...they're screaming at me."
Me: "Ooooookaaay. So how long has this been going on for?" (Oh fuckit, she's on a mobile so no fixed address.)
C: "Yearsandyearsandyears. MAKE THEM STOP."
Me: "OK, just stay calm. Can I take your address please?"
C: "You know where I am. YOU ALL KNOW WHERE I AM!"
Me: "Unfortunately I don't. I know you are in the xxxx area of London but I need a specific address"
C: "If I give you my address the Nazis will find me"
At this stage the dispatcher is mouthing "get a fucking address or I will dig out your heart with a rusty spoon" at me. And of course, the number search comes up with fuck all....
Me: "Look, can you give me a postcode?"
C: "Do you PROMISE you wont tell the Nazis?"
Me: "I promise"
C: "If they find me I'll know it was you. I know your phone number now."
Me: "Yes, it's 999...so can I have that postcode?"
C: "It's NWXX XXX"
Me: "So you're on XXXX Street?"
C: "HOW DO YOU KNOW? AARRRGH! NAZI"...click...brrrr....
Eventually got her number from Vodafone. The crew informed me that she had a very large and shiny collection of sharp things.
( , Fri 4 Sep 2009, 9:03, 2 replies)
NW Postcode?
Could've been my girlfriend..... she has erm, special moments occasionally...
( , Fri 4 Sep 2009, 9:28, closed)
Could've been my girlfriend..... she has erm, special moments occasionally...
( , Fri 4 Sep 2009, 9:28, closed)
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