Fuck You Monday

That's pretty self-explanatory and I really shouldn't have to post anything after it.  I want my weekend back.....and my bed.....and jager.......and boobs.....and more boobs......you get the idea.

Oh well, off to another day in the office.

I need to stop staying up so damn late at night.

Say What?

So for my day job, I work a kind of hybrid customer service job for a cell phone company.  I call it hybrid because we don't get the luxury of just a one department, one job role kind of gig.  We are cross skilled to do a lot of EVERYTHING.  Care, tech support, finance and payments, etc.  With any job taking customer calls all day, we get bitched out by total fuckwad idiots daily.  In my job, we get the task of getting cussed out by ALL the fuckwad idiots.  This is normal, and we learn to live with it.  People seem to grow a large set of balls when they're on the phone and don't have to see you person to person, and they rarely stop and think about the stupid shit they blab out before they say it.  It's a job of frequent stupidity, and rare remorse.

Today for example.....
Dude calls about his step daughters phone fucking up for like 6 months.  She just moved in with them recently and is constantly complaining about it locking up, having to have the battery pulled regularly, and the display going blank.  None of this is abnormal really.  It's a low end Samsung Android phone, and those guys suck balls at making software.  Lock ups and the like are pretty common.  The screen blanking did however get my attention.

So anyways, step dad feels obligated to defend the little twerps honor against the evil corporate machine that we are and get her phone replaced!!

Blah blah, 6 months it doesn't work, blah blah give me credits, blah blah blah *ignore anything I say about actually fixing the phone itself and go back to screaming for credits and how we're evil*.  I'll give the guy credit, he went on a customer service rant that he tried to guilt me on that was quite impressive.  It even hit the point of him asking for the names of all the executive board members of our company so he could write them about the horrible service and all the reps that refused to replace the phone over the last 6 months.  And for the record, I have no idea who those guys are which didn't make him happy.  Why would I care who they are?

So anyways, I finally somewhat calm down our ranting little douchebag.  Best option is to make a repair ticket, document all the shit fucking up and preventing her from sending nudes to whatever 2 week boyfriend she has, and get him the fuck to the repair store and off my phone.  Simple, right?

Not so much.  As soon as I go to start the repair ticket, I'm amusingly welcomed by a flag on the line for damaged beyond repair.  This folks is that happy note that means a tech at some point looked at the phone, found out that YOU fucked up and broke shit, and it's not covered under warranty.  This changes things.  This means you get to do that glorious insurance claim cause your idiot step daughter broke it herself.

Now, normally in a situation like this, the first thing they do is blame us.  How the fuck we are the one's who broke the phone I'll never know, but it's the normal reaction.  It's great how no one takes responsibility for their own fuck up.  However, to my astonishment, this wasn't the case.  I'm still in fucking shock over what happened next.

Customer: It's what?

Me: Damaged beyond repair man.  Not covered by manufacturer warranty.  Could be anything like something spilled on it or she broke something inside of it.

Customer: She didn't tell me this......

Me: Sorry guy, that's the problem.  If not for that, they would have just replaced the thing and called it a day.  Might wanna chit chat with her on that one.....

Customer: Son of a........*insert awkward pause here where I thought he would start screaming like a lunatic*..........I'm sorry.

Me:  You what?  Come again?  *there's no fucking way i just heard him say that shit*

Customer:  I'm sorry.  I've been a dick this whole time and she didn't tell me that.

Me:  So uhhhhhh.....still want me to cancel that line since we can't replace it or you wanna do the insurance stuff?  *gulp*

At this point I'm still preparing myself, and the volume button, for a complete hysterical tirade.  This is something that DOES HAPPEN at this point.  Sometimes they just have to build up to it like some great finale.

Customer:  Leave it.  My apologies for everything.  I'm an asshole.

Me:  No worries, we're straight.  Sucks to be her though.....

The call was done, yet I'm still sitting there with a stunned look on my face and my trigger finger still on the volume down key even though there's no one on the other end.  Fucking SHOCKED.  Even my coworkers were stunned at the story I shared.

Who the fuck are you????  You CAN"T be one of our customers!!!!!

This one made my damn day.

Little rules to follow when you need your computer fixed

This is just a little list of advice I thought I'd share for the next time you take your computer in to get worked on, from a guy who used to stand on the other site of that tech bench.  Following these guidelines will get you better results, and retain our sanity.  No, this list will never be complete....these are just thoughts off the top of my head.

Don't argue with the tech:  Let's get something quite clear first.  I'm the one who knows how to fix all the shit you just fucked up.  When I tell you what you did wrong so you can avoid it later, don't contradict me.

Yes, I really advised you to get anti-virus:  You look at more Asian ass-porn than a 13 year old that just hit puberty.  Last I checked, starting your computer to 500 pop-ups of "German shit on me" porn wasn't part of the factory configuration.  And no, we won't apologize of Windows Live One Care being a shitty product that didn't make it more than a year.

If you have porn, warn us:  We're not anti-porn or anything.  I do not like to turn on your computer and see the sagging tits of your 50 year old wife on the desktop for all my customers or partake in you sick fuck.  Nor do I want to run across a huge stash of goat fucking videos.

Do not anger the tech:  Remember, we now have your computer and your eternal internet happiness hostage.  If you call every hour asking if the repair job we quoted 3 days to complete is ready, that porn stash you pride yourself on will mysteriously be unrecoverable and it won't get backed up.  The pics of that whore that cheated and dumped you that you can't get over yet will vanish.  I'm fucking warning you.

We will not service your roach motel:  This is one thing I'll never understand.  Do you not find it humiliating that your computer has like 3 families of little critters in it?  What the hell makes you think I'm going to touch that thing.  And yes, I will bill you for pest control to come out if any of these fucking things got loose in my shop.

Your rambling doesn't make me money:  I'm glad that you picked up the new issue of Maximum PC and now you're a fucking expert over my years of experience actually doing this shit.  Really, it excites me.  However, I'm trying to work.  This back and forth exchange of you blabbing about something and me having to correct your every inconsistency is getting old.

Shut up and take my advice:  If you want to play games on this old piece of shit desktop and I tell you that you have to get a bigger power supply to handle that video card you're dick-beating over on the shelf, I fucking mean it.  If you don't get it, I won't install the card as it's just going to blow the thing anyways.  I'm not in the mood to play "told ya so".

Yes sir, I can refuse service to you:  I can, and I will.  And yes, I am very partial when enforcing this rule and will pick and choose what I want to work on.  If you approach me with an Apple product, I will push it out of the way and tell you to get the hell away from me.  I'll probably call you a communist as well.

I'm a tech, not God.  Don't expect miracles:  If everything on your computer is that important, back the shit up.  Yes, things will fail.  Hard drives stop spinning, boards short out, etc.  Most times, I can recover all that worthless crap you keep around after a few hours of work and cursing.  If I can't, well, that's your own damn fault it isn't saved somewhere else.  If computers were perfect, they wouldn't have a warranty, and I wouldn't be doing this job.

Warranty, what?:  You want all your work paid for under warranty, do ya?  Great, call the manufacturer.  Yes, we have a partnership program to do warranty service with them.  No, I don't actually do it.  It makes us no fucking money because manufacturers low ball the hell out of what they pay us.  I have to keep a profit too after paying my employees.  Now piss off.

Asking for my boss means nothing:  I'm the tech, therefore I'm the expert in this particular area.  My boss is only going to reinforce what I've already told you.  Then I'm going to refuse service to you because you've annoyed me.

Don't expect free work/advice:  This is a business.  If you want me to test your machine and tell you what's wrong with it, you're paying for my time.  Period.

Leave us out of your marital problems:  I'm not a P.I., or a divorce attorney.  i have my own issues to deal with.  True story to share.  Lady bring in a hard drive and wants to know what's on it.  She's real sketchy, and has no idea what to look for.  I plug it up, and find it's nothing but a straight Windows install except for Yahoo Messenger.  I call her and advise her, and she asks if we can look at that.  Found an app to read the Yahoo log files from the drive, and it's a mile long log of her husband talking to some whore he has on the side.  She asks me to print it out for her, and I charge her out the ass because of the amount of pages it took.  Turns out he would go in the office, lock the door, and replace the regular hard drive in the family computer with that one with this drive.  Once done with said slut, he put the old hard drive back and hid this one in the closet.  This bitch actually wanted me to testify at her divorce hearing.  Hell no!!  Didn't you think there was a problem when he locked you out of your own damn office when he went on the computer, without having a scavenger hunt for this drive?!?!?!?!

End of the month at the office

I fucking hate going to work at the end of the month.  HATE......HATE......in case that wasn't expressed clearly enough.

It's that time where everyone in management decides the best course of action to hit whatever goals the company has set forth, is to run around and freak the fuck out.  Remember, production is a result of panic attacks and anxiety issues.  So says the idiots in the suits who can't manage to wipe their own asses in just 3 steps, but somehow managed to get a job running a department.

Mix in this being the end of the quarter and having to worry about what we're reporting for that, and it's an even bigger party.

There's something I learned in management a long time ago that I think is still true.  SHUT THE FUCK UP.  IT DOESN'T MATTER AT THIS POINT!!!!

Oh, I'm sorry, you're right.  Constantly pacing the floors, reminding of us stupid details that mean nothing, and annoying me to the point I want to punch you in the uterus so you can't breed more annoyances for me later helps everything.  The stockholders love that.

I just have to remind myself there's only 3 days left.  It might be wise to show up with a tub full of Prozac for them to dig into.  That and I'll hammer back 5 hydrocodone and 3 shots of Jager before I walk in the door.