Customer Service

I could practically hear the tent pitching in what I assume were pleated trousers. They might have been khaki or navy. The color didn’t bleed through phone line. His nervous chuckle did.

“I do so appreciate your help,” I said.

“I appreciate your appreciation,” he said, allowing a small laugh to break up his clipped Indian-accented English, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Well,” I said, dropping my voice down to its best 1-900-number tones, “you’ve been such a darling making sure that unnecessary late fee was dropped, I hate to ask for anything more, but… do you think you could get a fresh statement that reflects the changes
sent to me?”

“Why certainly! Do you wish for a hard or electronic copy, ma’am?”

“Oh, a hard copy, please.”

“Certainly [giggle], would you verify your mailing address?”

And then, because I’ve been stuck at home recovering from surgery and was bored out of my mind, I recited the address as if he was paying me ten dollars a minute.

“Very [deep breath] good. It will [deep breath] go out [deep breath] tomorrow,” he stammered.

“Thank you for the excellent customer service,” I cooed.

“No ma’am,” he faltered, as if having to mentally translate the words, “It was all my pleasure.”

26 thoughts on “Customer Service

    • hehe… I’m sure he’ll be fine, but a good friend of mine responded like this after being told the story:
      Um… there is a skinny guy somewhere with your address and a raging hard-on separated only by a great, but travellable distance… you sure it was a good idea to rile him up like that? I’m just sayin….if he mails himself to you, well then that would be weird.

  1. Pingback: Sunshine Blogger Award « confessionsofyourhusbandsmistress

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