The Customer Service Department

My newest post on Conceited Crusade!

She was in the middle of a complicated case, full of wonder and thought-provoking questions, her synapses sizzling from the peanut butter M&M’s she’d just retrieved from the company vending machine, when the inevitable happened. The low hum of an incoming call directed her attention to her phone and she promptly put on her headphones and responded to the caller in her most professional, upbeat greeting.

“This is Tricia, how may I help you?” she chirped, brightly.

“Umm, Patricia, I need to speak with someone in charge. Someone with infinitely more authority than you, as I am not a common man, but a privileged being, a deity from a planet you will never see, a star far away, that requires a certain level of customer service that your company has yet to provide.”

The commoner named Tricia, was instantly miffed, not because of his star status, but from the fact that this supernatural being falsely assumed her to be a Patricia, this was not the name assigned to her at birth, and she had to fight her earthly impulses to correct this deity, who was currently unnamed.

“Sir, may I have your name,” she inquired.

“My name is too remarkable for your fragile ears,” he spat. “I request your superior, as I wish to file a complaint, and I won’t be put on hold, I won’t leave a message, I won’t back down. I will annoy you until you comply. Rest assured my iron will is far more advanced than your own and I will have my way, don’t even try to resist.”

She immediately regretted her decision to down one Advil rather than two, thirty minutes’ prior. She sadly held a conservative streak in all things, and consequently lacked the passion (a word that was boldly written upon the banner that hung lifelessly on the wall) to fully interact with this thing that held her rapt attention invisibly along airwaves that crackled and hissed in annoyance.

She turned to her co-worker, Pedro, a rico suave type of character, who was very skilled at impersonating the CEO, for guidance.

“Give me the phone,” he instructed.

“Yes,” he responded, in his most executive, pedestrian voice. “I completely understand your inability to communicate with the hired help. Yes, yes, I understand you have mistyped your password, Kal-El, and you desire to incinerate the entirety of our inept website along with our vast customer service department, yes, I understand how we have provoked your advanced but compromised nervous system.”

“Yes, yes, I will take complete ownership and responsibility for your wasted time and I will wire compensation directly to your private overseas account the second I hang up this phone.”

“Of course, I am the CEO of XYZ company, yes the one whose commercials you despise and find completely absurd.”

“Thank you for being a valued customer,” Pedro quipped, “and don’t forget to complete the survey at the end of this call.”

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