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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Comedy · #2101155
Have you ever wondered about the customer service agents you speak to, what the truth is?
"ello, thes ees Healthway Keeetchens, you are now speaking to Srinivasa hello, how can I help you?" a comically thick nearly unintelligible Indian-accented voice said. Especially the way he said "kitchens".

"Hello, I'd like to make a complaint."

"Yes sir here it Healthway Keeeeeetchens are always eenterested in comments that you the valuable customer have to say about our great many great products."

"My complaint is that your cheesy fiddles taste like vomit. And I don't mean that as an exaggeration or a hyperbole like when someone says "this tastes like crap" and doesn't mean it literally tastes like crap, no, in this case, I literally mean it tastes like actual vomit."

"I am being most very sorry for thees eenconveenience great honored sir and apologize for how you feel about our cheesy fiddles and am most upset that you are being unhappy with our products, would you like us to send you a replacement free of charge sir?"

"What, you mean more cheesy fiddles?"

"Yeffir if oo would so kinda produce an egg and shitting I will flay it hurmurm most excellently sir." At least that's my best guess what he said, that's what it kind of sounded like.

"What? I can't understand you," I said, trying to make out the words he was saying. "Can you please speak slower?"

"Yes sir, if you would so kindly provide your name and shipping..."

"More cheesy fiddles that will taste the same as the last ones."

"I cannot spay how paste you but the flahorm is but serengetti is contain in burhurna flogginness very much thank you sir?"

"What?" I asked, preparing to try my best to listen very, very carefully, not making the slightest noise on my end.

He indeed spoke a little more slowly, though with no less accent. "I cannot say how they will taste to you in flavor sir but I am very most certain that..."

"The ones I already had taste like vomit, and they're not past their expiration date or even sell-by date, why would I want any more of them?"

"Sir I am authorized to give you as compensation for you not being happy with your purchase a replacement of the deeefecteeve product."

"It's not defective," I cried in aggravation, "it tastes like vomit!"

"You do not feel that qualifies as defective sir?"

"Well yes but what I mean is, that goes beyond defective, there's something fundamentally wrong with the way you're making them, and I don't believe this is a one-off event, why would the next batch taste any different?"

"I do not know sir but I am also authorized to provide you a coupon voucher for 10 dollars worth of any of our most excellent products, that can be used in any grocery store carrying our most excellent products."

"Really. Which products of yours are 'most excellent', could you tell me that, because it certainly isn't the cheesy fiddles, they taste like vomit."

"I am most very unfortunately unhappy to hear of your complaint sir, and I can assure you that our most exxxceeelent products are of the highest quality..."

"Well the one I already tried were not."

"I am most abbreviately apostrophe and only want you the customer to feel we at Healthway Keeeeeeeeeetchens have searched you abiogenically."


"I am most absolutely apologetic and only want you the customer to feel that we, at Healthway Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetchens have served you acceptably."

I sighed. "Can I speak to a higher up, maybe a supervisor?"

"Yes sir, please hold..."

"No wait, I was on hold for half an hour alreeee a fuck it, you already did it", I finished saying to the annoying music that I already listened to repeat over and over for half an hour already. Fortunately it was not such a long hold this time, and this time I didn't need to suffer through a demonic automated menu that put me through hell before I could speak to a person.

"ello, thes ees Healthway Keeetchens, you are now speaking to Srinivasa hello, how can I help you?", the same voice from before eventually said to break the music. Damn, I'd rather have the music again.

"What the hell! You just transferred me to yourself!" I shouted in despair.

"I can assure you most excellent sir that you were not talkeeeng to me."

"Really. I was speaking to someone who sounded just like you. Named Srinivasa. Is there more than one Srinivasa who works there," I asked sarcastically. It would hardly surprise me.

"Yes sir, we have many employees here by that name." I mulled over in my mind, considering becoming racist against Indians. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. From this day forward, I am hereby racist against Indians.

Whatever. "All right, I'm calling because your cheesy fiddles taste like vomit."

"I am mustard ray to bleed that sir, if you would bike..."

"Wait! Please speak more clearly! Slower!"

"I am must sorry to hear that sir, if you would like I can send you a replacement sir."

I slapped my left hand over my face as I held the phone in my right.

"You know what, the last guy said I could have a voucher for other products, can you do that?"

"Yes most certainly sir, I can give you a 10 dollar voucher for any of our most excellent products sir. A coupon code that can be used in most grocery stores."

"You know what, I'll take it," I said in defeat. Who cares any more. Maybe something else of theirs won't be horrible. I gave him my name and contact information and was told they'd send me a coupon by e-mail that I could print out and use at almost any grocery store on any of their products. I felt a great sense of relief when the phone call ended.

The man at the other end of the line hung up as well. He paused for a moment, and, dropping the fake Indian accent, then said "hey boss, why are we selling vomit flavored food anyway?"

His boss was 20 feet away. "Clearly," he said, "you don't understand how business works."

"I guess I don't," he answered.
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