fandomhigh | Dealing With Stupid People [Monday, May 21]

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stupid people

Dealing With Stupid People [Monday, May 21]

When the students in the workshop arrived at the tables by the main campfire, they found them covered with phones.

"Welcome to the help desk!" Josh said, grinning proudly. "People are very stupid over the phone, especially when they know you can't see the expression on their faces. This is also why video conferences aren't as popular as regular conference calls--hiding your eyerolling is easier when, well, they can't see your eyes."

He waved his hands out. "Today you will be manning a help desk. I have ~~handwavily~~ put out posters to let people know that it's open during this class time, so the phones should start ringing any minute now. Your job is to answer the person's question in the most polite way possible without letting them know you think they are completely out of their minds."

"Coffee, muffins and bagels are available, answering their questions correctly is completely optional." Josh smirked. "Have fun."

[OOC: Phone lines are open for townies, students, and faculty members to call in. Josh has conveniently forgotten to specify what kind of help the students would offer. Ask for relationship advice, song requests, technical support, people to vote for or against bills in Congress, just to say hi...go nuts.

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Prue wasn't so sure about this. But she sat by the phone and waited for someone to call anyways.

Barbossa loved this kind of thing.

ring, ring...

"Hi, this is Prue Halliwell. How can I help you?" she asked warily. Yeah, she was dreading this.

"What d'ye do wit' a drunken sailor, wench?" Barbossa asked.

It could've been a song request. Or asking for relationship advice.

Great. She's got a pirate. Or a crazy person that thinks he's a pirate.

"Um, throw him overboard?" she said. "And don't call me a wench."

"But then he'd be drowned 'n we'd be down a man," Barbossa replied with a frown, "'n I be not a big fan o' the manual labor. Although thar would be more rum fer me, then..."

Clearly a question that required more pondering. "And o' course I call ye a wench. Unless ye be not a wench...be ye a eunuch?"

"A drunken sailor wouldn't be in any shape to do manual labor when he's drunk." said Prue. "He'd just stumble around and accidentally stab people with his sword."

"I am a wench! I mean, I'm a woman. But I don't like being called a wench." she said. "You can call me Ms. Halliwell."

"Another Miz Halliwell?" Barbossa sighed. "I'd be callin' ye Steve, but we already be havin' a couple o' Steves. Ye now be...Frank. Aye. So, Frank-who-be-not-wantin'-t'be-a-wench, if we be takin' the drunkard's sword away --'n that not be a euphemism unless he be terribly inappropriate -- could we toss 'im into the brig t' sober up?"

"I don't want to be Frank!" said Prue. She doubted that saying that would do much good. Obviously this pirate was either drunk or crazy. Or both.

Prue sighed. "Yes, you can toss him in the brig. But you guys should really should drink something other than rum. You'll get scurvy. Switch to drinking Tequila Sunrises or Screwdrivers."

"Aye, 'n Logan-who-used-t'be-a-bunny didn't want t'be a bunny, not-a-wench," Barbossa said. "'n why would we eat tools t' keep from gettin' the scurvy? Be we needin' more iron in our system?"

Cue the obnoxious pirate laughter. Oh, he cracked himself up.

Prue gripped the phone tightly. She wondered how hard it would be to find a pirate in this town. And how much trouble she'd get in if she threw him through a wall.

"Nice to see that your poor hygiene and broken English hasn't dampened your sense of humor."

"I be not havin' poor hygiene!" Barbossa yelped, pretending to be offended. "I be havin' a protective layer o' dirt t' protect me from ailments, o' course!"

"I'm sure that protective layer has all the wenches flocking to you."

Re: Man the help desk!

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Ring. Ring.

Prue was a little more curt in her answer after the conversation with the pirate. "Prue Halliwell, can I help you?"

"Yeah, I want my money back." Prank calls were like, so much fun!

Prue put her head on her desk. "And why do you want your money back?"

Annette blew air between her pursed lips, "Like you don't know! He was bald! Bald! I didn't ask for bald!"

"Did you specifically say you didn't want a bald man?" asked Prue. "You have to be specific."

"Man? I'm not talking about a man, I got a man! I don't need no man. Maybe you need a man. Do you need a man?"

She did but that wasn't the point. "Then what were you talking about?"

"Wellll, whatdoya think I'm talking about? I did call tech support. Says so right here on this card I'm looking at. TECH. SUPPORT."

"Well, I'm kind of useless when it comes to technology. Unless it's cameras." she said. She didn't even want to know how a bald guy factored into this.

"The microchip kind of fell out of him when I shook him to get him off of me. If you ask me, someone didn't put it in very good. It was gross. I want an exchange, Missy. An exchange and my money back. But I'm keeping the collar cause I like it."

"Oh you already used the product? Then I'm afraid you can't get your money back." said Prue, having no idea what she was talking about. "You tainted it."