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This is a question Call Centres

Dreadful pits of hellish torture for both customer and the people who work there. Press 1 to leave an amusing story, press 2 for us to send you a lunchbox full of turds.

(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 12:20)
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Peaky Chea
I got a call from a call centre a few months ago on my mobile. A Range Rover dealership in Sheffield. They thought that I was taking delivery of a new Range Rover. My normal polite instincts kicked in. I said that they have the wrong number, but I would love a new Range Rover Ha Ha Ha. They apologised, and I think nothing of it. A few days later, they asked me if I liked my new Range Rover and would I do a customer satisfaction survey over the phone. Ha Ha Ha, I splutter, no, you have still got the wrong number – I am not the person you sold a Range Rover too. They apologised. End of story.

Except the same thing happens a few days later. I told them they have the wrong number somewhat forcefully. They seemed to have got the message. A few days later they called again. They apparently hadn’t got the message. I tell them again. A month later, I got a call saying that as my Range Rover has been recalled, they will deliver a temporary one to me whilst mine is fixed, and that they are terribly sorry that they couldn’t get one to me for the same day, but they didn’t have any manuals, only automatics, and they like to offer like for like.

At this point I was incensed. Temporarily insane with rage. I told them to deliver the temporary car to my workplace. I hang up. Stupid idiots. Then I realise that I have effectively stolen a car. FUCKFUCKFUCK. I called back, but couldn’t get the person I spoke to. I left a message. Fuck.

Then the reception for the building I work in delivers a message over the intercom. “Will Mr. XXXX (dude they sold a car too) please come to reception.”

I shat myself. I glanced out of the window and there was a brand new spanking white Ranger Rover Vogue parked in a visitors spot.

My mobile rang. I freeze. My anus puckered so much that it picked up my chair with it. I stood up and my chair came with me.

“Who the fuck are you and where’s my car?” said the dude who had the broken Range Rover and was expecting a temporary vehicle. I put on a terrible, terrible fake Liverpudlian accent “What are you talking about, I don’t know nothing about nothing...etc”

“Why are you trying to steal my car?”

I toyed with the idea of telling the truth.

In a slidingly shit Birmingham accent now... “I don’t know what you are talking about, like...”

He hung up in disgust.

I glanced out of the window. The Range Rover is gone. Presumably reception have told the delivery dude that they now have checked the visitors/staff list and no one of that name is in the building.

I never answer my phone from people I don’t know. Ever.
(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 22:31, 6 replies)

I have the strangest feeling of deja vu reading this...
(, Thu 3 Sep 2009, 23:49, closed)
uh yes
I have posted it before on b3ta. It is in fact a 're-post'. However, we are not content with calling it that so we call it a 'pea roast' which is an arf inducing spoonerism. This got to be too onerous however and so we then started to refer to them as cheeky 'peas'. I have gone a further step with the whole spoonerism 'gag' and referred to it as a 'peaky chea'. I trust this has cleared up any confusion.

It's not even a good story tbh.
(, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 23:16, closed)

No, I'm aware of that.
It's merely the first pea I've ever felt that I remembered.
(, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 2:52, closed)
I've reaad this before somewhere..
I'm certain of it - it's here on b3ta somewhere..

Probably why it's titled 'peaky chea..'
(, Fri 4 Sep 2009, 10:41, closed)
so
you inadvertently steal a car and the first thing you do when you get busted is pretend to be a scouser?
thanks a bunch, not all of us are thieving pikeys, you know.
(, Tue 8 Sep 2009, 1:44, closed)
Ah
I am terrible at accents. The best (although still very bad) accent I can do is a Liverpudlian one. The second best (worst) one is a Birmingham one.

It is is no way a slight to you or your thieving, council house living, rat eating brethren.
(, Wed 9 Sep 2009, 1:05, closed)

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