June 9, 2012: Um, Like, Tiffany. Okay?

            I try to be nice. I really do. But then I wind up on hold for nearly 20 minutes, and have my telephone call answered by a thirtysomething who speaks with the voice of a 13-year-old from Calabasas and who has no answers to any of my questions, and I kind of lose it.

            Her name was Tiffany, and she answers phones at the call center that services the alarm system on our house here. Tiffany, when I spoke with her today, was all like totally confused. Y’know? OMG, totally!

            I explained to Tiffany that I’d had a phone message earlier in the day telling me that our alarm system was sending out a low battery signal. I wondered how I might rectify that.

            “Om,” Tiffany said. “Like, I don’t know. Did you say that we, like, called you?”

            “Yes. Someone at this number left a voice message asking me to call.”

            “Did they, like, say what it was, like, about?” Tiffany wondered.

            “Yes. The person who left the message said that I should call about my alarm system sending a low battery signal.”           

Om. Like.

“Is your alarm, like, sending that signal?”

            I closed my eyes. “Yes, dear. Apparently it is.”

            “Is it, like, something you can, like, hear? Or something?”

            “No. Look, you called me. What’s up?”

            “Om.Welllll… let’s see. Can I get your name and address?”

            “I already gave them to you, at the top of the call.”

            “Oh, I know. But, like, our computer screens do this, like, totally annoying thing where like if you don’t—”

            I interrupted her. It wasn’t nice, but I did it. I blurted out my name and address, for the second time.

            “Okay. Om, like, well, I don’t see you on our call sheet, so, like, maybe when you called us—“

            “I didn’t phone you. You phoned me. Go get me an adult to speak with, please. Now.”

            She put me on hold. For seven more minutes.

            When she came back, she began a new litany of “like!” and “om!” and I cut her off. I figured, Screw it. I’ll let the battery in the security system die and I’ll live in an unprotected home. It’ll be better than enduring another second of Om Like Tiffany.

            Totally.

 Thing I Hate Today: Every scrap of paper in my “In” box

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4 Responses

  1. This entry makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Misusing the word “like” is one of my pet peeves. The other one is “goes” instead of using the word said, i.e., “He goes hello instead of he said hello.” Om, like, you know?

  2. Yet another example of why alarms create more annoyance then actual protection. You could do what my friends Mark and Chuck did when they lived in a warehouse is a nasty part of Oakland back in the 90s. Back then they attached a reel-to-reel player to a motion detector outside their front door with a recording that would go off anytime some homeless crack head came remotely near their building. It was frightening when it went off and worked pretty well. Yours could say something like “Om, like, get the fuck off my property creepy, homeless dude.”

  3. Totally one of my favorite blog posts (for dayz and dayz okay?) (Om…)

  4. I think she waited on us at Tilted Kilt last week.

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