November 21st, 2003
|11:59 pm - "I AM my supervisor. (Bwahahahahaha.)"|
Wow. I'm tired. No particularly good reason, just tired.
That's not entirely true. I had a late night last night. I didn't end up going to the play, because the person I was going with didn't think he'd be able to make it through the whole play. We ended up doing other stuff and calling it a night fairly early. I came home, and started work on something. Somewhere in there, we got a phone call.
It was a girl I knew in high school named Molly. When we were in high school, we had a slight back and forth crush on each other that was just perfectly timed so that we were never interested in each other at the same time. Come to think of it, Molly was the first person I cared about to have applied the word "creepy" to me. Um, anyway, she just recently moved back to Wisconsin, having previously been in North Carolina and before that, Germany. Molly and I have been weaving a thick, tightly-knit web of suppressed sexual tension for the last few years, and every once in a great while we get together to add another unpleasant layer. We did so last night.
It was quite nice.
I think she thought so, too. We just sat and talked for a long while, which (in the unlikely event that she's in town) never happens because I have roommates, and Molly's personality is such that coversations with her are better one on one than with multiple people. She's doing fine, and like any sane, rational person, she doesn't like our cat. Eventually, we noticed the time, and decided that in the interest of not being dead at work and school in the morning (or more accurately, later the same morning), we should go to our respective beds. Before she left we compared our caledars and made plans to make plans, so with any luck we'll be seeing more of each other.
Anyway, today nothing of real note happened. Work was really busy, and having stupid, stupid people to deal with didn't help. This is as verbatim as memory permits:
Me: You've processed Services Not Rendered against our merchant.
Some Guy at Some Bank: That's correct.
Me: Our merchant is a law firm.
Some Guy at Some Bank: Yes.
Me: And they represented your cardholder in court.
Some Guy at Some Bank: Yes.
Me: And your cardholder won her case.
Some Guy at Some Bank: Look, if you won't settle this with us, our cardholder will take your merchant to court.
Me: If we won't settle this matter outside of the dispute process, which we can't legally do, your cardholder is willing to take the law firm she hired to court over the allegation that they didn't help her win the case which, in fact, they did help her win?
Some Guy at Some Bank: (Long pause) Yes.
Me: Can I talk to your supervisor?
Some Guy at Some Bank: I am my supervisor. Can I talk to yours?
I was in the process of transferring him, when the "call waiting" light on my phone suddenly went out. That's right, he hung up.
In any case, I'd like to welcome evil_jim to livejournal. All y'all should check out his poem Kublawocky, which is probably the most creative plagiarism you'll ever see.
Current Mood: sleepy
Current Music: Friedrich Smetana - Die Moldau
That's the single most brilliant idea I've ever heard. Sue your lawyers for asking to collect money for winning your case because their "Services Not Rendered." I mean, what a fucking genius. Really. BTW, great job handling the stupid person. Anytime people ask to see your (read: your as in you, Colin) supervisor, you've outwitted them and they realize that they stand a better chance of getting what they want with your sup.
Oddly, I should never have to speak on the phone to persons outside the company. This guy called me, and I have no idea how he got my number.
Wow, I use a lot of italics.
He probably got it through dialing like a monkey. Or through random extention numbers. It's still funny that you intellectually beat him down. You should get an award for that. Or something, like a hug.
|Date:||November 22nd, 2003 03:01 pm (UTC)|| |
Thanks for the plug, but I'd like to point out that it is NOT plagiarism! I stole that material fair and square. (with flashing eyes and floating hair...)