Monthly Archives: September 2008


Let’s go back to a simplier time when baseball was ruled by racism and cheating.


Eight Men Out

Surviving Customer Service 4

If you’d like a copy of your very own and not wait for it to unfold slowly, wander on over to my store to get one.

There will be many situations you’ll have as a Customer Service Representative where you’ll rely on stock responses. Many of these will become so second nature to you they’ll taste slightly metallic and scalding when they flow from your mouth. As if you’ve placed the gun of lunacy between your lips and shot the bullet of despair into your cranium.

By our scientifically sound estimation, this situation will occur between eight and thirty-seven thousand times a day.

Because of that, you’ll have many stock responses stuck in your brain. These responses will never leave your brain. Years after you’ve run from the customer service industry you’ll find yourself screaming, ‘Would you like fries with that?’ at inopportune times. Such as when making love.

And, trust me, that’s not the perfect time for fries.

Sadly, we’ve found the phrases passed down from Corporate just don’t cover every situation. If you believe Corporate the only things you’ll ever say to a Customer are:

“Thank you for patronizing our fine establishment.”

“I’ll be glad to assist you in any way you see fit.”

“Will that be cash or credit?”

Oh, if life on the floor was so simple!

Where’s the response when some idiot’s kid has wiped their snot and ice cream encrusted hands all over your pants?

“Would you like paper or plastic?” Just doesn’t seem to fit the situation, does it?

That’s why we’ve put together responses that can be used during the varied and annoying situations you’ll find yourself in to get your desired result: get fired.

“Congratulations! Your name has just been put in the running for moron of the week!”

“Thank you for coming. But I reserve my greater thanks for your leaving.”

“That’s the largest size we carry. May I suggest you try the Imax dealer down the street?”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But just think how bad you’d feel if you could read my mind.”

“Let me get my manager. I want to prove I don’t kill indiscriminately.”

“Yes, that is store policy. We also don’t have to wash our hands after using the restroom.”

“Trust me, this product is more than a mouth-breather like you could handle.”

“Let me get that for you. Could you take the stick out of your ass so I can reach it?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Well, I could but you’re too much of a jerk for me to want to.”

“I must disagree. My boobs are quite competent.”

“Could you repeat that? And this time use vowels.”

“It’s customers like you that make my heroin habit possible.”

“I had another customer with the exact complaint. I walked away from them too.”

“I’m so proud to be helping you. You’ve taken up so much of my time I’m eligible for retirement.”

“I’m sorry, this is the bitches only section. Egomaniacal assholes is two sections over.”

“If we had any more in stock there’d be no reason for you to be bothering me now, would there?”

“I agree! That is no way to run a company. Do you want to flog me here or stop by your house at, say, eight?”

“The customer is always right just like the asshole is always smelly.”

“I’m glad you came in today. I needed a face to put to my spiraling depression.”

“I’ll be happy to assist you. Would that be lethal injection or a nine millimeter to the base of the skull?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to serve you. Sadly, we don’t serve strychnine.”

“I’m sorry your wait was interminable but how do you think it was for me? Waiting all that time just to find out how much shit you were going to sling at me.”

“I think that’s perfect for you. Now, with one glance, everyone will know you’re an idiot.”

“Let me see if I can find someone who can help you without laughing in your face.”

“Thank you for making this job easy to quit.”

“Are you really a moron or do you just play one in stores?”

“I want to thank you for making death seem such a bright option.”

“I’m not refusing to help you. I’m ignoring you. That’s totally different.”

“I hope you had a pleasant experience because I’d hate it if we both had a miserable time.”

“I apologize for my inattentiveness but your presence has put me into a boredom induced coma.”

“I’ll be glad to help you bring this to your car if it gets you out of here quicker.”

“I’d be glad to help you but I’m not a licensed therapist.”

“If I did that for you I’d have to do it for everyone else and I’m not in the mood to screw so many people today.”

“Fuck you!”
(as perfect a response as this is, it’s a third of a response at best. Feel free to improvise your own ending to make sure you get your point across.)

If you’d like a copy of your very own and not wait for it to unfold slowly, wander on over to my store to get one.

Fitting Tribute

As you’re probably aware, one of the most storied stadiums in all of baseball has closed it’s doors. So, to pay our respects to the history that has unfolded there, we scoured the internet for interminable seconds (almost 37!) until we found what we feel is a fitting tribute:


A guy came in with his kid. They were dressed fairly similarly in wrestling t-shirts, baggy, low-hanging shorts, a Marlboro cologne. They’re explaining their predicament. From their vernacular, I can tell this isn’t the first time in this specific predicament. They had the lingo down pat.

Although it’s not their fault, not their doing, or any other not that deflects blame from them, they are in a predicament that must be dealt with now because,

“This is the last day.”

This is another curious fact about people in this predicament. They always come to me on the last day. As if, after months of hearing the phrase,

“Get the fuck out by this date!”

They feel there is going to be a reprieve or change of heart. Trust me, that never happens. So that’s why they come to visit me as a last minute bailout. And also the reason why so many people come in here angry/flustered/stressed.

I’m talking to the guy who continues to go over why his predicament is not his doing. Okay, fine. I understand. You landlord is an ass because you haven’t paid your rent in months. Yeah, what a bastard! Can we get to the point where you give me money then, in a few months, I begin the task of chasing you for money?

The guy continues and then he uses a phrase I’ve only heard uttered in movies, during interviews with athletes, or by people who watch movies about athletes (by that I mean wrestling fans),

“Failure is not an option.”

I tear off his copy of the lease, hand it to him and say,

“Nope. With you it’s part of the standard package.”

Surviving Customer Service 3

If you’d like a copy of your very own and not wait for it to unfold slowly, wander on over to my store to get one.

Now that you understand who you’ll be bitching about and to whom, we’re going to cover the two major problems you’ll have during your long and torturous, I mean, happy and peppy career in customer service.

1) Service

2) Customers

What other industry is named after its biggest drawbacks? No, not even trash collector. After all, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure and many people collect what others would and do call trash.

But, in our industry, customers are nothing more than horrible, fetid creatures bent on snapping our wills and servicing them just doubles our pain. Even though they know we hate them that never stops them from barging in with their stupidity and worthlessness. As a matter of fact, there was a widely regarded study done by the Association of Service and Support (ASS) which concluded that our loathing only serves to empower them and draws them closer to us like shit to toilet paper.

Although ASS’ study makes a strong case for the invincibility of customers we are not without protection. If we take the old sports adage that the best offense is a good defense we can beat them at their own game. And their game, which you should never forget, is to force us to do everything they say and blame us for how it turns out.

The first thing you must assess when a customer approaches, is what ‘type’ of question they are asking. Although you may assume a question is a question is a question, nothing can be further from the truth.

For example, a customer finally hunts you down like a wounded quail and, while waving the item wildly, asks,

“How much is this 83-speed ‘relaxation’ massager?”

You first thought shouldn’t, but of course will be,

“What? The one by eight foot iridescent orange sign with the glowing price hanging above where you got this from isn’t visible enough, Chumbrain?”

Your first thought shouldn’t be about the customer at all. It should be about you because you must determine what type of question that is. In the above example, that’s a ‘Fact Question.’

A ‘Fact Question’ is one that can easily be answered and instantly corroborated by things such as, price tags, signage, brochures, and these little self explanatory pieces of waste called Fact Tags.

Of course, none of those useful devices will help because they failed (read: are too stupid) to find them. An 8-foot orange glowing banner with a fan slapping it around like a red headed stepchild screaming:

would be missed. So it’s up to us to explain the obvious. As always. Ain’t we the luckiest?

It is also a fact that we can stand there, advertising flyer with a picture and the price of the item in hand, and the customer will still make a case that the flyer at home had the item for eighty-seven cents less. The worst part is they truly believe that, out of the millions of flyers printed and distributed, theirs has a different price than the one inches in front of them.

Yeah, we once believed we’d have pleasant lives. I guess we’re all a little delusional. At least we’ve come to grips with it. Let’s take a moment and bless the inventor of alcohol.

After you’ve repeated yourself numerous times and steadfastly maintain the accuracy of your answer, all to no avail, there truly is only one thing left to say,

“Wait right here. I’ll get the manager.”

Oh sure, some see that as a cowards way out. Those tend to be people who’ve never experienced the pleasure of standing in front of a muumuu clad denizen of a lithium bottle, surrounded by her cloven hoofed tribe, who can’t decide between the ugly statue of something that could be a wolverine breast feeding a monkey or the ugly statue that, due the abstract nature of the piece, looks like a naked gerbil beer bottle opener (at least that’s what we used it for).

After spending a good chuck of your life servicing customers until you feel your frontal lobe quiver and slip down your nasal passage spilling onto your name tag, you’ll take any escape that appears.

The reason saying you’re going to get the manager works when encountering a ‘Fact Question’ is due to the fact that the customer, after a frustrating 8.3 millisecond wait, will become so irritated at the length of inattention they will place the item down and storm haughtily from the aisle and, if your co-workers are lucky, out of the store.

It’s actually very Zen like. If a customer bitches yet no Customer Service Representative is there to be bothered are they really shopping?

Even after experiencing an untenable situation such as the ‘Fact Question’ it’s a far simpler and glossed over situation than the other major question situation.

The other question resides in a gray area. It’s known as the ‘Land Mine Question.’ It’s a question with no definite answer written inches from the customer’s face. It’s a question that supposes:

1) the Customer Service Representative has intimate knowledge of the product and it’s uses

2) the Customer Service Representative has intimate knowledge of the customers distinct likes and dislikes

3) the Customer Service Representative is stupid enough to offer their opinion

It is a question such as,

“Do these pants make my ass look big?”

This is the granddaddy of ‘Land Mine Questions.’ It’s a question that, if you are even considering formulating a response to, you should carve out your tongue with a potato peeler (aisle 7) right now.

Although you may be tempted to answer a ‘Land Mine Question’ (in case you’re interested, the answer to the above question is, ‘Yes, they do, you careening pork sausage of death.’) due to innate helpfulness or desire for a bump in commissions, crush that desire like the job does your soul.

The mere utterance of a truncated consonant, whether shaded truth or obvious lie, will send you spiraling into a world of unimaginable pain and repercussions.

The problems arise due to the fact that, as a Customer Service Representative, it is your job to service the customer. You have a sworn duty to respond to any and all requests from this person who has such low self-esteem they’re seeking the opinion of a total stranger who hates them and wishes them a speedy farewell.

What to do?

Answer them with a response forged over the years in countless skirmishes on the slippery slope of stupid inquires:

Change the direction of the attention.

For instance, using the earlier sample,

“Do these pants make my ass look big?”

To maintain a professional persona and sense of self-preservation, your response would be,

“These sunglasses match those pants perfectly!”

The customer, easily distracted by the shiny and inane, will forget about the snugness of the pants on their fleshy behind, and consider the loveliness of the new found object.

This procedure works for any type of a ‘Land Mine Question.’ The trick is to move their attention from their primary point of interest (in the sample: ass) to a point as far away as possible (eyes).

If a customer asks a ‘Land Mine Question’ about, for instance, sunglasses your response could go as far down as their shoes. They ask about shoes? How about a hat? You can have a lot of fun if they ask about a belt. The choices there are endless! Be creative! Try to sell them a snorkel.

Be warned that ‘Land Mine Questions’ aren’t asked only about clothes. That would be too logical. Just spewing their cursed feeble-mindedness on clothiers. But no, every Customer Service Representative will hear the babble of ‘Land Mine Questions’ like an emotion-drowning river every single day. So remember to smile!

They’ll ask if a tennis racket will propel them onto the pro tour; or if a specific shade of eggshell will match a bedroom set you’ve never seen; or whether they’d enjoy the Filete de Salmon al Horno. All you can do is take a deep breath, look around and distract them with a salad fork. Stabbing them if you feel the situation necessitates.

Sure, you know the racket is of high quality, the paint will stick to the wall and the salmon delicious but, how can you predict the likes, dislikes or delusions of strangers?

So gently, smoothly, and with effortless grace lie. Sure, it’s underhanded and unhelpful but it’s not like you invited them to test your telepathy. It’s not like you invited them to talk to you either but there’s little you can do about that.

After all, you unlocked the door.

If you’d like a copy of your very own and not wait for it to unfold slowly, wander on over to my store to get one.

Be Reasonable

A gentleman bursts into the office and, without greeting of any kind, gets to the point.

“You have to stay open late. My people aren’t going to be here until after you close.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

I could tell by his reaction he was unprepared for such a definitive response. I’m also sure it is why the gentleman’s ire hits a boiling point. I explain that we close at specific times for specific reasons. I like to think of it as my bosses brilliant plan to limit my actual contact with paying customers. The less time spent with them the fewer paper cuts he’ll get reaching into the complaint box.

“I’m not asking.” The gentleman attempts the subtle approach. “I’m telling you.”

It’s with this demand he gives me the evil eye. I always like to see the evil eyes of others. I know they do it because it works. It must or why would they do it? That one time it works makes the six billion other times you did it worthwhile? No, there has to be a percentage that makes it a viable option.

“You are a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

“I’m not kidding. You’re going to stay open if I have to reach over that counter and make you.”

I’m sure most reasonable people would be thinking, ‘Fuck! I wouldn’t even want this asshole here during scheduled working hours.” And they would be right.

But, as we are here to establish, I’m not very reasonable.

“That’s your one, sir.”

“My one what?”

“Threat. I’m good like that. I give everyone a freebie.”

I could tell the gentleman didn’t think I was taking him seriously because he said,

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“It doesn’t matter how I take you. What matters is your demand, which in and of itself is unwarranted, will not be heeded.”

The gentleman did not like this response either.

“What if I refuse to leave?”

“I will call the police to have you arrested for trespassing.”

“What if I beat the shit out of you?”

“I will add assault to the complaint.”

The gentleman begins to call me all kinds of colorful, schoolyard names.

“I will drive the fucking truck through the fucking door if it’s not open.”

“Breaking and entering. Destruction of property. I’m not a cop but I’m sure they’ll be able to add a few other charges to your list.”

It is now where the gentleman attempts a change in tactic. It’s the old, never change a winning game, always change a losing one. He begins to tell me it’s been a stressful few days, how nothing’s gone right, how this and that is the cause of his aberrant behavior. But never once did he apologize for using me as a backboard for his bad luck. Funny how that works.

“Be reasonable.”

Why is it people who ask you to be reasonable are usually the most unreasonable? Funny how that works.

“If, by reasonable, you mean stay open after our scheduled working hours, the answer is no.”

“Fuck you! You little fucking asshole.”

I love my life! Truly, I do. Who else gets to experience people going from ass to contrite to ass in 3.7 seconds on a daily basis? I’m actually surprised more chests don’t implode from the vacuum created.

I take a look at the big clock on the wall behind him. I notice the big hand is pointing straight up and, do you know what that means boys and girls? That’s right! Asshole Chris gets to walk from behind the counter, slap up his closed sign, and lock the door! Oh, happy day!

“What the fuck are you doing?” The gentleman screams while I’m shutting off the front lights.

“I’m closing the business for the day.” I walk behind the counter and stop in front of him. “What that means is, it’s time for you to leave.”

“I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

“I beg to differ. Now it’s my turn to make ultimatums. You either turn and exit the building right now or I press a little button and summon people who’s job it is to make people exit.”

“I’ll blow up this fucking building with you in it!”

“Cool! That’ll mean my girlfriend will get an awesome insurance check. I now must remind you that that’s your second threat. I only give away one. Now, to prove I’m reasonable, I will give you one minute to regain your composure and exit this building.”

Now it’s a standoff. Standoffs are so stupid. Especially for whomever doesn’t have a button to summon the authorities. The gentleman paces back and forth in the waiting area. I can tell he’s going through all the options he thinks he has. He finally stops pacing, turns, exhales and says.

“Come on, be reasonable.”

“No, it’s time for you to be reasonable because your minute is up.”

I reach my hand under the counter. He steps back while mumbling and walking toward the door.

“I hope you still have someplace to work tomorrow.”

“Me too! I so love our customers.”

Being A Man

A kid was asking all his father’s male friends what makes a man. He’d been getting the standard responses: be loyal, take care of family, don’t leave your kid in a car even if it’s not all that hot, you know, the standards.

I was reading over some of the things and, having met most of his father’s friends, knew they were lying out of their asses. The guy who JUST got out of prison for assault said, ‘Listening, being patient, and always being there for your family.’

I guess if you’re in prison you’re family knows you’re there and, if they visit, you have no option but to listen patiently.

The kid was sitting there waiting for me to say something. What am I going to say? Being a stand-up guy was covered, not carousing had been covered, it seemed as if someone even quoted the boy scout oath.

“What makes a man?” The kid asked. I sat there and looked at the kid for a few seconds before saying,

“Knocking a man out with your fists, getting a couple of concussions, spending one night in jail.” I nod my head as they kid writes it down. “And if you can accomplish it all in one night, you’ll save a lot of time.”

Why do people let their kids talk to me?

Surviving Customer Service 2

If you’d like a copy of your very own and not wait for it to unfold slowly, wander on over to my store to get one.


Just as with your Co-Workers, Customers come in many sizes, shapes, and smells. All of them horrid. I put the blame of customer expectation and sense of infallibility directly on the lips of Harry Gordon Selfridge. Who, you may be asking, the hell is that?

Good old Harry is the man who unleashed the phrase that feeds every sloth-toed monster with their bad-breath and mismatched coolots waving a two dollar piece of plastic ware over their head because you said (even though you didn’t) there was one in thistle in the back so, when it turns out they don’t even make it in thistle (whatever that is), they’ll have your job!

And the phrase Selfridge unleashed to ruin our lives is,

“The customer is always right.”

There is no more deadly a phrase for a customer to have. They don’t think of it as a slogan created to fool people into thinking they had some modicum of intelligence while being fleeced by the maw of a ravenous corporation. They consider it an unalienable right. Like two for one drink night or wet t-shirt contests ending in fistfights.

Those five little words have caused more aggravation to a customer service representative than all the mandatory full store inventories combined.

I decree that from this day forward all crappy customers with their impossible demands and infantile reaction to any hoop not jumped through is to call them a selfridge. I think it’s only fair.

Knows everything about every product made in the history of mankind. The Know-It-All is appalled at your lack of knowledge and how easily you fall into the patter ‘the man’ has force fed you. They will spend most of your time together explaining just how little you know.

The only way to counteract such an imbecile is to stroke their ego by marveling in the wonder that is their font of useless information. I know that sounds like the antithesis to the teachings of this book but, believe me, it is not.
Dealing with all customers is a Zen experience. I’m not for a moment saying you should be calm while all around you is stagnant with ass. I am saying use the customers arrogance and stupidity against them.

If the customer commands that the ZLRXPD-7 is vastly superior to the ZLRXPC-7 who are you to argue? Embrace the inner idiot, stroke the vastly inflated sense of worth, and they will go back to their mother’s basement quicker than you can say ‘commission check.’

Insta-Pal is nefarious. It’s a smile and a laugh that holds a conniving, controlling, freak whose only real objective is to hang out with you while you do your job. They’ll let other customers go first because, well, they’re just hanging out chatting with their buddy. The rule of thumb in this situation is if they’re more touchy-feely then your lover and more open with personal comments than a drunk priest, this is a very dangerous customer who should be avoided at best and tasered in extreme cases.

No matter how much you do (up to and including chewing the food for them) or prove they can, all on their own, use the spork, they will always find one more thing to keep you in their service.

The Helpless customer is also unable to make a decision between green and greener without a gathering of the tribe. The sad part is, most of the time, you’re the only member.

Your most valuable weapon against a Helpless customer is the Helpless customer. Their inaction will cause them to make a rash decision and pick the green one when everyone knows the greener one was best or their level of frustration will grow to such a magnitude that they will flee from the store in the middle of a phantom panic attack.

The moment you begin to answer their question they begin to ask another question that is, most times, about an entirely different product and, quite often, in a totally foreign, often made up, language.

Although the Multitasker feels they are the most productive member of humanity ever to strap on a colostomy bag, the fact is they are as useless as a bag full of popsicles at a bonfire.

They’re so busy being busy they often wear themselves out before you ever know what they came in for. If you can remain still long enough more often than not the Multitasker will find your inaction cause enough to storm out to another store. Remember the long standing customer service representatives motto (which I’m making up right now): It is better to have patience than be a patient.

The Ex-CSR feels your pain because they’ve been there. The problem is they’re always busier, less compensated, in more hazardous conditions, had to complete a sale while the store was ablaze.

That’s why they feel the need, no, the responsibility, to tell you not only how they would have handled a transaction but how they could have done it so much more efficiently. Gawd help if you don’t thank them at the conclusion (if it ever arrives) of their transaction. They will find your manager and have you written up and they will stand there until each of their complaints is transcribed. In triplicate. Because, damnit, in their day that’s how customer service was done!

The Self Important will shove past anyone in line, even when you’re handing them their change, to get your attention. If you don’t engage immediately they will, in a voice loud enough to drown out all other sounds for a block, explain to you just how important they are and just what important people they knew who will, with one text message, appear out of the ether to fire you on the spot.

Remember that the Self Important customer lives in a world of delusion where only they think they have clout. I’m not saying they don’t know the person whose name they are dropping, it’s just that, exactly like you, they also believe this person is a gigantic tool.

When a Self Important customer is in the middle of their rant just remember that later you’ll be scraping gum  off the floor while they’re regaling their friends about giving the what for to you.

At least no one will think you’re a tool.

The Do-Gooder will tell you a sweater is unfolded in aisle six and, even after you’ve acknowledged them and explained you will take care of it, will stand there until you disengage whatever it is you are doing (even if it means climbing down from the ladder and leaving a banner waving in the air conditioning) to handle this urgent task.

But don’t get the idea they’re done helping! Don’t be that silly. Once they have you they’ll unfurl a list of things they just can’t wait to tell you they’ve found amiss in the store. If you’re lucky (which you will be) they’ll have a list!

The Do-Gooder is also not afraid to help you with other customers. Even if their help is either to repeat what you’ve just said or to venture into long-winded stories about the time the friend of someone they met once at bingo used this product and died a horrible death. The fact the person got hit by a bus and had nothing to do with the item at hand is often a fact overlooked.

The Business Genius could not only do your job better than you but also your bosses, their bosses, their bosses and their wives tennis instructors.

The amazing part is that each and every one of their fool-proof business ideas has the curious fact that it encompasses an issue that directly impacts them. If they have their face pressed against the door at 9:01 their grand scheme would involve longer hours. If they had to wait for a Customer Service Representative to remove the talons of another customer their solution would be to have more people on the floor. For the life of them they can’t see how you, a person in this very industry, couldn’t figure that out for yourself.

The Dicker is a customer only trying to get the best deal for them and their loved ones. Sounds like a good thing, huh? We all want the best deal possible. But the Dicker takes it to an entirely new level. A level deep inside the earth where only slugs and ex-mobsters reside.

The moment the price is offered the Dicker will pretend you said it was not only free but with a forty-thousand dollar weekly renewable rebate. No matter how often you say,

“No, the burger is eight-nine cents like it says on the menu. Just like it was when you were here yesterday.”

They will continue to push, prod, cajole for any sliver of a deal way after most people would have accepted the fact that this is a non-negotiable transaction, paid their bill and gone forth to lead happy and productive lives.

The Dicker will offer increasingly lucrative incentives for you to make the price a little more reasonable. The longer you stick to the price as marked the more grandiose their offers become.  But don’t fall for it. Stay focused on this one unassailable fact, if they’re this annoying what’s the possibility the twelve friends they’re going to send your way will be any less irritating?

As you can see, customers are best viewed as beings with the simplistic goal of separating you from your sanity. They are crafty and adapt well to any solution you offer. They’re like a four-year-old who continually asks,


As frustrating as that is you can’t let them get to you. And not just because shaking sense into them is against the law. It’s also frowned upon in the employee handbook.

If you’d like a copy of your very own and not wait for it to unfold slowly, wander on over to my store to get one.

Bug Boy

Much has been made over the years about this project. It’s been a long road to nowhere but it’s been a fun road.

Some years ago my pal, the previously mentioned Singing Office boy, Ed Nyahay, and I were talking. He was looking for something for him and his friends to pitch. Knowing Ed and listening to stories about his friends we threw a few ideas back and forth. I told him I thought I had an idea and would get back to him. That idea turned out to be Bug Boy.

I know most of you don’t know Ed, but, trust me, he IS Bug. I put little things into the character I knew Ed would run with and, not surprisingly, he did.

But, as I said, it was a long road to nowhere. No matter how good the reaction has been, we just couldn’t get the project off the ground. So Ed decided to shoot some footage to show the world what they’re missing.

And, for the first time in the digital world, the footage Ed and his crew shot is available worldwide. It’s mainly Ed working through the character and giving him a little back story. The scripts written and some of the things said about them, can be found here:

For the character development and to see some of what makes Ed Bug, check out the saga:

Episode 1 Part 1

Episode 1 Part 2

Episode 1 Part 3

Episode 1 Part 4

Episode 2 Part 1

Episode 2 Part 2

Episode 2 Part 3

Episode 2 Part 4

The oddest reaction I’ve seen to Bug is from kids. They love him. I guess that’s the essence of Ed: Frightening to some, frightening to some more.

A quicky story. I was meeting someone in a restaurant in LA. Ed was dropping me off but came in to meet the guy. We chatted for a few minutes before Ed said goodbye. Just as he reaches the door to leave I called out,

“Ed.” He stopped. “Bug.”

And he went into this spastic, flailing, dance for a few seconds. The restaurant stopped. He finished, looked around with his darting eyes and bopping head, then said in that creepy horror movie kid voice,

“Bug Boy.”

And vanished.

No one moved for a few seconds then everyone laughed and chatted about what they’d just seen. While they were doing that all I could think was,

‘How could anyone else be Bug Boy?’


Sit back and enjoy the swinging sounds of yesteryear!


Grace Of My Heart

That Thing You Do!