Just this very minute I overheard a phone call that Handsome was making to AT&T, our landline and internet provider. Here in America many of the customer service numbers that you call first put you through some kind of triage where the computer has some kind of voice-recognition software so you can talk your answers rather than punching numbers. By the way, I’ve heard the best way to get to an actual person quickly is to swear at the computer. I haven’t tried it myself, you know, I’m just sayin’.
This is what I heard of the conversation:
(said with a very serious, monotone voice, attempting to be devoid of an accent) Problem with my bill.
(Sounding increasingly irritated) None of those.
(Sounding completely annoyed) But, wait, I didn’t ge… (cut off)
(And now totally peeved) Yeah, whatever.
(Muttering to himself) They never understand my accent.
(Still muttering to himself, although I imagine it was being record by some computer somewhere for training purposes. Imagine a Kiwi talking with a contrived Southern accent. A really bad one) Problem with my bee-ill. That’s probably how I should have said it.
(And now a little language lesson for you) Kooskakabooka
Remember, my husband spent the majority of his growing up years living in Papua New Guinea, so he picked up the local lingo, including some of the not-so-nice words.
Next time you’re really angry because you were cut off by another driver, remember that word. You can have the thrill to know that you just called them black chicken snot.
So neener neener neener AT&T.