BlackBerry, Part 2
We pick up my BlackBerry!
It doesn't matter who your service provider is, good employees are hard to find. Some will treat you like a Valued Customer. Others will treat you like a Scabies Patient.
The employee who helps us yawns constantly. "Oh MAN, I'm tired," he complains. "And I got three hours left in my shift."
The DNB, just off a sleepless call night, gives me a pointed look.
"Daaaaaaaaaaang," the employee says, noticing my Phone That Aikane Ate. "What happened to that thing?"
"My dog ate it. That's why I need a new phone," I reply, impatient. It's been 20 minutes and he's still aimlessly clicking his mouse and yawning.
"Wow. What kind of dog?"
Okay. We're going to have a conversation. I'd prefer he not try to multitask, but fine.
"A Bichon," I tell him.
"Those little tiny dogs? Daaang." He yawns. "Do you have other dogs?"
The DNB and I exchange glances.
"Yes, we have three dogs," the DNB chimes in.
"Wow, man. What kinds are the other ones?"
Despite his yawns, he manages to sound remotely interested, and I warm up to him a little bit. We manage to run through the ages, sex, and household items each dog likes to destroy before he finalizes the paperwork and prints my receipt.
I glance at it. "Oh wait. I don't want to decline insurance."
"Oh man, sorry, you actually want the insurance?" he asks, surprised.
If we were chatting online, I'd tell him to SCROLL UP DOUCHEBAG. But because I am a good person, and kind, and want more than anything to end my epic journey to the store, I manage to tell him in an only slightly sarcastic tone that yes, yes please, I would like the phone insurance. And that does cover dog-related accidents, correct?
It doesn't matter who your service provider is, good employees are hard to find. Some will treat you like a Valued Customer. Others will treat you like a Scabies Patient.
The employee who helps us yawns constantly. "Oh MAN, I'm tired," he complains. "And I got three hours left in my shift."
The DNB, just off a sleepless call night, gives me a pointed look.
"Daaaaaaaaaaang," the employee says, noticing my Phone That Aikane Ate. "What happened to that thing?"
"My dog ate it. That's why I need a new phone," I reply, impatient. It's been 20 minutes and he's still aimlessly clicking his mouse and yawning.
"Wow. What kind of dog?"
Okay. We're going to have a conversation. I'd prefer he not try to multitask, but fine.
"A Bichon," I tell him.
"Those little tiny dogs? Daaang." He yawns. "Do you have other dogs?"
The DNB and I exchange glances.
"Yes, we have three dogs," the DNB chimes in.
"Wow, man. What kinds are the other ones?"
Despite his yawns, he manages to sound remotely interested, and I warm up to him a little bit. We manage to run through the ages, sex, and household items each dog likes to destroy before he finalizes the paperwork and prints my receipt.
I glance at it. "Oh wait. I don't want to decline insurance."
"Oh man, sorry, you actually want the insurance?" he asks, surprised.
If we were chatting online, I'd tell him to SCROLL UP DOUCHEBAG. But because I am a good person, and kind, and want more than anything to end my epic journey to the store, I manage to tell him in an only slightly sarcastic tone that yes, yes please, I would like the phone insurance. And that does cover dog-related accidents, correct?
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