Tales From the Crypt (of Customer Service)

For anyone looking for an easy job that pays well, customer service isn't the right career path. As I approach my fourth year of dealing with angry, whiny clientele and part-time status, I've seen some wild things and met all kinds of crazy people.

The weird thing? I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.

Picture this: First day on the job as a movie theater rep.

"Okay, ma'am," I said as I handed a bag of popcorn and several sodas to the guest at the counter. "Your total is seventeen dollars."

She looked at me incredulously in response. "You have to PAY?!"

***

It sounds terrible, but dealing with language barriers makes me wanna take my own life. It's not a matter of racism, it's the awkward moment where you have to politely let your customer know you don't understand what the fuck they're saying because they've just gotten off the boat and are incredulous that you don't carry Curry-flavored soda.

One day, I answered the phone. "Hi, this is Corey, how may I help you?"

"Yes, I want to see E-Wall and Wanted," a man with a thick accent replied.

"Sir, do you mean Wall-E and Wanted?"

"Yes, I want to see E-Wall and Wanted."

"...Okay, well, we don't have those movies. We have Batman, but it's sold out."

"Okay, fine, but when are E-Wall and Wanted playing?"

"Sir, we do NOT have those movies."

"When are they playing?"

It was at this moment that I knew customer service was not the career path for me. But I still come back for more. I'm a glutton for punishment.

***

Furniture's even trickier.

"Hi, this is Corey, how may I help you?"

"I have your delivery drivers here, and I'm NOT letting them leave," an obviously angry woman snapped at me.

"...Excuse me?"

"THEY BROUGHT THE WRONG BED."

"What's wrong with it?"

"They brought a black footboard and a RED HEADBOARD." The woman continued screaming at me, and I had to hold the phone away so she didn't hear me laughing at her. She then went on to demand, "You better get in a truck and bring me the right bed!"

Okay, lady, I'm gonna go hop in a truck and bring you a brand new bed to your summer home in South Buttfuck. I'll get right on that.

***

My favorite job so far has been being a greeter. I like talking to people. ...Well, some people.

One day, I saw an old lady sitting on a bench. She looked kind of confused and lonely, so I approached her. "Ma'am, are you finding everything alright?"

"Oh yes, but sonny, come here a second!"

I cautiously inched closer. "...Yes?"

"Are you on the Jay Leno Show? You're that fella, Ross! The gay fella!"

"Yes, you caught me. I left showbusiness to greet people on a Saturday night for $9 an hour."

People are really dumb.

Tracy Turnblad is an Asshole.

I was driving into the lawyers' office the other morning, lost in thought. I bitch about traffic, but I secretly love long drives in the morning during rush hour, because it's a good time to decompress and think about everything going on in my life.

As I approached the exit that would FINALLY take me off the Expressway (Sidenote: Why do they call it the "Expressway" when it's so God damn slow?!), "Without Love" from Hairspray started playing through my iPod. I sang Zac Efron's part, believing myself to be within his vocal range, and also wanting to have rabid monkey sex with him.

Then my thoughts turned to the story's plot: Tubby girl who can sing has crush on pretty boy in her high school (Story of my life!). And it got me thinking... Especially about the lyrics: "Tracy I'm in love with you / No matter what you weigh."

Zac Efron... is full of shit. It's my experience that fat chicks are inherently miserable and like to attach themselves to popular gay guys (Story of my life... again!). Was Link Larkin a chubby chaser? Furthermore, why should I believe that Link and Tracy would STAY together after their "happy ending?" They're FIFTEEN years old! That shit won't last past the summer... Link will dump Tracy for someone skinner. Then she'll eat ice cream and cry.

***

I found myself sitting on the couch a few weeks ago. It was the first night of summer vacation. While some reveled in the unusually warm, spring air and got their booze on, I was eating ice cream and watching "He's Just Not That Into You..." Alone.

This film has become a staple in my repertoire. Mostly due to an unfortunate incident involving a final project for Studio TV Producion II.

***

One of the class' professors handed me a script. "Corey! You'll be directing two scenes from 'He's Just Not That Into You.'"

Ashleigh piped up, "Professor, that's perfect! Because that's the story of Corey's life!"

I think it sucks that people like me live for these small moments of male attention. We just want to be loved and love in return. And when that opportunity seemingly presents itself, it turns out it was never really there at all.

I had a confrontation with a prospective suitor who took me out on the town, introduced me to his friends, and opened his home to me. I asked him, "Did monogamy die and I didn't get the memo? I don't think it's so much to ask to be doted on by ONE person and not have to worry about him following his cock to greener pastures."

Am I right? Or does this concept not exist anymore?