Pliwischkies
Oh my, it’s March. When the lambs come out, and the erm, daffodils. You know what else comes out in March? FUCK ALL. Oh, except Watchmen, which I may even pay to see. Maybe.
As with most blogs I’ve ever owned, I am happy to not care about what I’m writing until that fateful day where I realise that people actually read it. It makes sense, since I link to it from many (or all… it’s all) of the social networking sites that I use. And Deviantart. That’s not social networking, that’s for people wiv da talentz. Anyhoo, I got to that point again RIGHT NOW. So here’s my first attempt at a blog worth reading.
Ever worked in a call centre? How rubbish is it when you have to talk to someone that has the most ridiculous surname in the world that you have no chance of pronouncing? When the name is about 16 letters long and looks like it’s been typed with your face. I’d say, that’s one of the worst things about call centres. There’s no button next to the name for “pronunciation”. Microsoft Sam does NOT help you out with this one. I sometimes forget the woes of call centre staff when the roles are reversed and I end up on the other end of the phone, being called something that resembles the name of a Polish breakfast cereal. “Miss Bu…. Miss Buk…. Miss Boo-cha… Kylie?” This happened this morning, while I was trying to scream at my bank for applying charges to my account. Before I even got to shout at poor Indian man about the unfair reversal charges, I had to scream at him for calling me the most ridiculous series of names. We ended up agreeing that it was best if he called me Kylie, at least then I wouldn’t have to waste more of my precious free minutes correcting him every time he feels pressured to “personalise the call” and call me Monster Munch or something.
That’ll do. I’m gonna go and perhaps suggest that someone starts developing pronunciation aids for foreign call centre workers. Maybe I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll make a million dollars. Maybe I’ll spend that million dollars on a floor length fur coat, cheeseburgers and a jet. What’s it to you?!
