A poorly timed call…

Seriously, I don’t envy the job of people in call centres. Usually, when they call, I am the picture of politeness. (“Yep, look, sorry, I’m not interested. Can you please take this number off your list? Thanks. Bye.”) I know they’ve got a shit job, so I do my best to make it a little less shit.

But sometimes, all my buttons are hit incorrectly in the most wrong sequence possible that I cannot bear to be even vaguely kind in my response.

Case in point: this afternoon. I’d had a seizure at work at about 9am, and Dad had to drive me home. I slept solidly from 9.30am to about 1.30pm. Even now, I still feel like death warmed up, and am particularly irritable. Seriously, no bitch wants to mess with me right now.

So, I’m on the internet in the lounge room, when my mobile phone rings from the other end of the house, in my bedroom.

Thinking it may be a call about one of my many job applications, I figure I should answer it. So after rushing the shit out of my dog-tired self, I do.

And am greeted by a heavily accented female voice, trying to sell me something.

Oh boy, did she get the dud call of the day.

***

Noni: Hello?

Call Centre Lady: Hello, Mrs KERNER?

N: (immediately shitty, and too tired to hide it) No, no, no! For a start, I’m not married.

CCL: Oh sorry, sorry. MIZ Kerner. MISS KERNER. MIZ KERNER.

(Seriously, woman. I get it. YOU DO NOT POSSESS THE ABILITY TO PRONOUNCE MY NAME CORRECTLY. Get on with it, so I can tell you to fuck off.)

Sorry. How are you today?

N: Shit actually. I had a seizure earlier.

CCL: Oh. Oh. Well, I’m calling because we have a promotion for your mobile phone-

N: (cutting her off) No, no you don’t. Take me off your list.

CCL: Oh, sorry. Yes. Thank you.

N: Bye. (hangs up)

Sorry, but if you call me in the middle of the day, on my unlisted mobile, and expect me to be all bright and sunny, then most days you’d be right. But to attempt to continue your pitch after a) pronouncing my surname ridiculously incorrectly, b) assuming I’m married, and then thinking I’m going to be okay with you ploughing on once I’ve told you c) TODAY I HAD A MOTHERFUCKING EPILEPTIC EPISODE, you’ve really got another thing coming.

I’m sorry, Call Centre Lady. I’m sure you’re really a lovely person in a very unlovely job. But seriously, today, you can go fuck yourself.

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