I’m Not Your Buddy

I’m not your pal.

I’m not your sport.

I’m not your chief.

I’m not your captain, friend, or dude for that matter.

It turns out I’m the motherfucking king of asshole busting.

But you can call me Chris.

Don’t get me wrong, if you don’t know my name it’s okay to not call me anything. You can call me pal, that’s okay, but not with that tone.

You know that tone. It’s the one that implies a proximity that isn’t there, a friendship that’s non-existent, basically, it’s a smokescreen to rush through an agenda.

It’s used to create a bond. But then so’s crazy glue and I’ve seen some terrible things that shit can do.

When dealing with someone like this it’s best to get to the bottom of their desire (probably something you can do but not at the price, position, color, or creed they’re interested in) as quickly as possible. The trouble with that is they won’t help.

Another thing about this type of person is they are unfailingly loud. I will admit that there is a place to be unfailingly loud. The problem is there’s also a time and place try to two bank your caddy into your neighbors front yard (turns out that time is 2:31AM on November 27 and the place is Florida. Seriously, what was Cheetah, I mean, Tiger Woods doing? Was he having a psychotic breakdown and thought he was trying to putt through the windmill at a minigolf course?).

While I am holding the phone three inches from my ear I attempt to answer this guys question: price. The problem is there are many, as we say in the business, price points.

He tells me he’s not interested in anything but the price. Ah, a shrewd negotiator.

I tell him the lowest and highest prices we have on the item he desires. I also state that there are price points in between.

What I receive back is his opinion. Let me check my notes, I wouldn’t want to quote him incorrectly.

“You are a fucking idiot if you think I’m paying that. That’s fucking retarded. Are you right in the head with prices like that?”

I begin to state that, as of my last check-up, I was certified right in the head. The problem is, for whatever reason, and I’m not saying it was due to the fact he was not only speaking at the same time he was doing it loud enough to drown out the news helicopters hovering over the building due to a highway blocking accident, he did not hear the results of my check-up.

“HELLO?” He begins to bark. “HELLO!?!?!” He screams. “HELLO MOTHERFUCKER!?!?” He bellows. “THIS ASSHOLE HUNG UP ON ME.”

The fact I am attempting to tell him the motherfucker, oh, and asshole, in question is still on the line is lost as he hangs up.

Then calls back.

I consider not answering the phone but, gee, I am here to help people. I know, I’m such a softy.

“Why the fuck did you hang up on me?”

“I didn’t.”

“You fucking so did.” That’s what he said so don’t go all grammar guard on me.

“If that is true, how could I have known you screamed hello three times before calling me a motherfucker then an asshole?”

“I didn’t fucking say nothing like that.”

“I’ll give you that. But only because, if I remain on the phone with you, I’d feel I was cutting into your scheduled wife beating time.”

Ahhh, silence.

“Now that I’ve got your attention,” I press on. “I’d like to ask you why you called back? I mean, you’ve already said out price is fucking retarded and there is something wrong with my head if I thought you’d pay prices like that.”

“I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this. Who’s your boss?”

“Jesus.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yep. Assholes for Jesus. Wanna join?”

“How do you stay in business treating customers like this.”

“You’re not a customer. You’re some random asshole who slipped from the primordial ooze who learned to grunt into a telephone.”

“I’m reporting you to the better business bureau.”

“I’ll give you their number.”

“Fuck you! I’m fucking dead serious.”

“I’ll give you their number. But it won’t do any good.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We’re not a member.”

“I can do something.”

“That’s right, ass-eyes, you can. Take your business someplace else.”

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13 responses to “I’m Not Your Buddy

  1. man!!! i love the way you talk to customers. you should teach a class on customer service.

  2. …PAL – Slowly I Turned… Step by Step

  3. Thanks for the story, Chief! I love primordial ooze stories!

  4. Dave: You know I’m not going to stop you from calling me pal, friend. You’d probably stop me from entering your bar as an undesirable.

    Bob: You know I like to make you feel at home, Bob.

  5. I wish there was a rectal cancer button installed on your phone. I have one…

  6. Strap that guy on a utility dollie, push him for a long ride off a short pier. As this is happening tell him their is no charge!! Your no buddy, just a comic.

  7. This is one of your best ones so far. I love your way of evangelizing, classic! Jesus would be happy or maybe not! God Bless.

  8. Who did you get to give you a clean bill of health on your head…you have to be lying about that one!!!!

    “Scheduled wife beating time…” Gotta love it!!!!

  9. You’re not supposed to give out the secrets of the brotherhood, MTAE! Damn, son!

    It’s easy to get a clean bill of mental health. Just go to a place that has crazier patients. Voila! Normal! It’s all about grading on the curve, Sport!

  10. Assholes for Jesus? I’ve met some of those people already, I’m pretty sure.

  11. Chris, my brother, you have topped yourself.

    (I’m saying that only because you left the cloying, unctuous, smarmy, pandering, making Uriah Heep look noble in comparison “my brother” off of your list.)

  12. Clearly your prospect called back to receive a second hellping [I like that typo] of your first class abuse. This must be the guy that wants you to set up his website for free, huh?

    I lolled for realz dude. Assholes for Jesus. They wouldn’t let me join. Fuckers.

  13. This makes me think of John McCain’s oft repeated and so poorly chosen use of “friends” during the presidential debates. I wanted to like him and yet it turned me off big time.

    The dude you were talking to should just be shot.

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