Also, faves from web customer svc:

The website is broken. Let me know when you've fixed the problem.

- er, our website has thousands of possible pages. could you be more specific?

There's a typo on the calendar page.

- and (1) see above. (2) turns out You Made The Typo when you entered the event. And you can log in and fix it. Yourself.

I got an error message. Just wanted to let you know.

- hey, Thanks! Next time, sending the error message would be helpful too.

I got an error message. Just wanted to let you know.

- hey, Thanks! Next time, sending the error message would be helpful too.

Seriously, is a screen print so hard? Or writing down the error message?

Do you guys have the show How to Look Good Naked yet? I heart it.

Or writing down the error message?

they're getting better at this - I've taught several copy>paste. It's more that there are 1 1/2 of us running about 30 modules for 200 in-house clients and then the rest of the community. Plus ecom and n registration points at various times. We don't get a lot of errors, and we have our own set of alerts. But, especially when they have the information right in front of them, headlined with "please send this information to [this email address]" (if they're in-house), stopping to track down what and where is a pain. Our telepathy being broken and all.

I keep having people who call me, I say "hello" (or, at work, my name, often with "how may I help you?").

Then, looooong pause.

After a while the person on the other hand says "are you there?"

At work, I'll repeat my name. At home, since that's usually an indication that it's a telemarketer or some such, I hang up.

Some people shouldn't be allowed any communication device more complicated than two cups and a piece of string. A short piece of string. Or maybe semaphore flags.

I got an email telling me that I won a $50 gift card to Best Buy for participating in a Tivo survey (which I did). I am, however, suspicious. The prize form seems innocuous enough, doesn't ask for SSN or anything. Am I just being paranoid?

I wouldn't click on any links in that email, but if it's legit you should be able to go to bestbuy.com and enter in some kind of claim code.

1 HOUR, 16 MINUTES TO GO...

...it is with a saddened heart that I must report the death of Corporal Jenkinsonson. He was a noble lad, full of heart and courage...a soldier of the Empire to the very core. His death by peeing on an electric eel was, pardon the pun, shocking and, it must be noted, completely unexpected as eels do not usually thrive in an office environment without a source of water.

We have been lost in this wasteland for...6 hours and 18 minutes as of this sentence (minus a one hour unpaid luncheon period). Our will is, alas, waning; as stout and true as we once were, there is only so much the human spirit can bear and the oppressive bland coloration and soul-crushing boredom and routine are as a blistering sun upon a delicate flower...we have been sucked dry of all life and wilt, crumbling, someday to be uprooted and thrown on a compost heap to rot away...

...hark! The enemy klaxon bleats!

...Crisis averted. The call of the intruder was successfully passed off to another unit. Let them deal with the barbarians without...we shall waste our time writing this missive.

It has been an arduous undertaking, indeed. We lost Private Hoeffstetter before the first paid fifteen minute break. Poor lad went to shred some documents and, I fear, was caught in the machine. Privates Loengroen and Martinizing were sent on a pointless errand and, I fear, wander lost amongst the pressboard walls, searching for a mythical Benefits Representative who no longer exists...if ever she did.

Sergeant Yomama has been stoic, but I'm afraid what shreds remained of his sanity have been cruelly taken from him by the nineteenth reiteration of a barbarian's battle cry of "I wanna talk ta a maaaaaanager!" They know it drives us mad, as maaaaaaanagers are wily beasts, prone to escape into mysterious hiding places for "meetings" and they excel at camouflage.

...another bleat!

...a wrong number. Cursed imbeciles! Cannot they work a telephone?

My fortitude fades. I will press "Post Message" and husband my strength. God willing, I will live to Post again.

is someone logging the MiracleMan Chronicles so that I can read them later when it won't hurt so much to laugh?

eta: (am not, repeat, not implying that any of the overworked and much appreciated stompies should be doing such a thing - just... can't read. hurts too much to laugh like this)

t cue "nostalgia" music

I remember back in aught-eight, when Miracleman, that brave, crazy, caffeine-laden fool, took on the forces of The Customer Brigade.

::sniff::

'Course, back then, he wore an onion on his belt, as was the style at the time....

t nostalgia music