Queries to My Cell

It is a well known fact that not everyone in the world is very enamoured with their job. In fact, if murder wasn’t illegal, I’m sure many people would be wary of pissing off colleagues in the workplace. Or, for that matter… the people who are trying to help them.

Me: Okay, I will prepare [such and such] for you soon. Where shall I send the [item which the client is seeking]?

Client Who Obviously Doesn’t Want To Do Any More Work Than They Feel They Have To: To the same one as before.

Me: Which one from before?

CWODW2DAMWTTFTH2: You know, the same as before.

(a minute passes as I look scour our archives for any trace that we have dealt with this client before)

Me: The last record we have of your requests to us was back in March 05, in where you were located in [place] and working for the [section] section.

CWODW2DAMWTTFTH2: Oh no, that was ages ago. It was the one I requested after that one.

Me: If you could just give me the details I want, this could be solved.

CWODW2DAMWTTFTH2: No, I don’t think so. I think I’ll torture you for another minute or so.

Okay, so I made up the last couple lines, but if I wasn’t so tactful when representing the organisation that I work for, I would inform this client of the following information. By email, of course.

Deep breath.

“I deal with about one hundred people a day, each of varying ethnicities, emailing style, and general brain power. Not to mention that since March this year, our section has dealt with nigh on thousands of satisfied customers, and some who even have the exact same name another customer.

“So, you could say your name was Tom Jones, and I wouldn’t know if you’re the Tom Jones from 5 Dickheadeville Terrace, or the famous crooner.

“If you had just given me the damn information I asked for in the first place, you could’ve saved me the 5 minutes that Windows spent rifling through our archives for your name, and your problem would have been solved sooner.

“Now I know it may be unreasonable of me to ask a question of you, our beloved customer, because everyone knows we’re psychic, but too morally grounded to effectively predict the $19 million lotto draw. Besides, if we did win lotto, we wouldn’t be able to converse at length with our beloved, yet intellectually enfeebled clients.

“You know, the only reason I asked you a question was to actually hold you up. I like throwing spanners into works, even if I’m following office policy and established procedures.

“After I’ve chased this up, could I please trouble Sir Client for a kick up the arse? I live for moments in where I feel derided despite making my best efforts - I am the department’s whipping boy.

“It’s in my job description. Look. Right there. See?

“Feel free to call on me any time you like. I guess I will now remember your name out of the hundreds of people I deal with week-in, week-out. You’re moron #243. Any more requests similar to the one above will increase your rank a bit. Just so you have something to strive for, the person ranked #1 asks me the same question ten times, despite me giving the exact same answer each time.

“Everyone should have goals, you know.

“Anyway, thanks for your query. I look forward to many more head-bashing-on-desk moments like these. By the time I’m 37, I hope to be committed. Thank you again.”

*sigh*

I feel better now. A bit.