Wednesday, January 31, 2007
9:50 a.m.

Well, I found out today that the receptionist won’t be in till FRIDAY, for reasons I cannot disclose at this time (hint: fetus). Which is another TWO DAYS of phone answering for me. Fetus or not, someone will pay.

I just got another brilliant phone call. Actually, a two-part series, starring DIPSHIT FROM CALTRANS with broken English.

Part 1:
DIPSHIT: I was just speaking with one of you in the field, and need to speak with your supervisor in the office, this is regarding the _________  interchange job for the city of __________.

ME: What is the name of the supervisor?

DIPSHIT: I need to speak with the supervisor, I am in charge of the job and they cannot work until I speak with your supervisor.

ME: But WHO IS THAT?

DIPSHIT: I need to speak with the supervisor.

ME: Is this for the Survey department?

DIPSHIT: Yes.

ME: Do you mean [name]?

DIPSHIT: No, I need to speak with the supervisor.

ME: Yeah, he’s the manager of Survey.
DIPSHIT: I am the supervisor on this job; they cannot work until I talk to the supervisor.

ME: Ok, well, let me find someone who can help you.

After determining from another surveyor that the person he needs to speak with is on the phone, I return to Dipshit, who has hung up. The person on the phone is aware of the call, but remains on the phone.

Dipshit calls again.

Part 2:
DIPSHIT: I was just speaking to you and I need to speak with the supervisor of this jo–

ME: Yes, I remember. Just one moment.

(The person is STILL on the phone.)

ME: The person you need to speak with is on the phone right now, but if you want to leave a mes–

DIPSHIT: I already called and did not speak with the supervisor, I need to speak with the supervisor.

ME: But he is on the other line right now, he can call you back when he is done.

DIPSHIT: If I don’t speak with the supervisor they cannot work on this project. I am the supervisor for this job and I need to contact them directly, I was given this number and need to talk to him.

ME: Right, and he will call you back as soon as he is off the phone.
DIPSHIT: I need to speak with him and I was given this number, he needs to call me back right away.

ME: I UNDERSTAND THAT. However he is ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW.  I am in the reception area. I am stuck in the front by the phones. I cannot leave this area, so if he is on the phone, all I can do is transfer you to his voicemail so he can call you back. Do you want to leave a voice mail so HE CAN CALL YOU BACK?

DIPSHIT: That is fine, I leave message.

In case you missed it, that was me finally striking back, to the best of my authority while keeping my job in good standing. JESUS. I know I post a lot of phone-related incidents, but man alive, I seem to get ALL the stupid calls. It was comforting to receive sympathy from our coffee vendor, who heard my end of Part 2, and understood my plight. He agreed that Dipshit was being unreasonable, and advised me to remain stuck at the front so I wouldn’t have to deal with much more. He thanked me profusely for my assistance (I signed a shipping slip) and bid me good day. I think he was afraid I would shift my focus of irritation to him. After all this, it was a relief to transfer the subconsultants with even WORSE broken English. At least they’re innocuous and don’t challenge me. For the love of god.

Ooooh, UPDATE: A former co-worker just came over to my desk (hint, she worked under the bitchy one who I once referred to as “Karen”). She handed me something for one of our managers and said, “I wanted to leave this at the front but no one was there.” And you can imagine that I was given the look. You know, The Look. The look that says any of the following: “You drank the rest of the milk and didn’t tell me.” “I know you dinged my car in the parking lot.” “I heard you creep into bed around 4:30 with twat-breath. Liar.” “I don’t believe you were talking to your brother in the bathroom with the fan on and water running.” “Your penis smells like asshole, you lying, cheating (possibly gay) fucker.” Regardless of how we may interpret this look, I really think it was unnecessary and misdirected. I’m sorry the receptionist NEVER fucking comes in lately and I thought I was done being Happy Front Counter Girl. Excuse me for assuming that I could return to my normal cave and resume my own workload. Unclench and go fuck yourself.