In the car this afternoon:
Stu : "That's where Daddy's car is from" (the dealership)
Me: "Yes Stu, and you were just a tiny little baby when we went to pick it up."
Julia: "Where was ME?"
Stu : "You were still in Heaven Jools!"
Marc and I laugh and agree it's a good theory when he continues:
"God wasn't finished making you!"
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
Customer Service - Luxembourg Style
We need to get the garden tidied. Between my allergies (debilitating) and Marc's busy schedule and the million and one other jobs we have for him, we figured we'd get a company in.
Marc looked up the company (the one who came when we moved in) on the on-line directory for Luxembourg. It's one of the bigger gardening companies in Luxembourg. I dialed the number.
I will translate the conversation for you.
"Mhmph-humumum" Says the voice that answers the phone.
"Yes, hello, is this XYZ gardening?" I ask.
Affirmative GRUNT on the other end.
"I'd like to get an estimate to have our garden tidied" I say.
"Sigh... You need my secretary for that." is the reply (my psychic powers should have guessed this?). Then a grudging "I'll transfer you."
He comes back a minute later. "She's busy." He announces.
I wait a moment. He says nothing further. "Should I call back?" I ask.
"Yes." (undertone "DUH!")
O-kay. "And when would she be free?" I ask, barely containing my sarcasm.
"Oh, you can try again in 10 minutes. But don't call this number."
???
When no explanation is provided I said "This is the number listed on pt.lu...?"
"I know, but you shouldn't use it. Call xx xx xx xx." he barks down the line.
Why do I feel like an eight-year old making crank calls?
Okee-dokee. "Goodbye." I say.
"Grunt" he says and hangs up.
Happy shiny people live in this country.
Marc looked up the company (the one who came when we moved in) on the on-line directory for Luxembourg. It's one of the bigger gardening companies in Luxembourg. I dialed the number.
I will translate the conversation for you.
"Mhmph-humumum" Says the voice that answers the phone.
"Yes, hello, is this XYZ gardening?" I ask.
Affirmative GRUNT on the other end.
"I'd like to get an estimate to have our garden tidied" I say.
"Sigh... You need my secretary for that." is the reply (my psychic powers should have guessed this?). Then a grudging "I'll transfer you."
He comes back a minute later. "She's busy." He announces.
I wait a moment. He says nothing further. "Should I call back?" I ask.
"Yes." (undertone "DUH!")
O-kay. "And when would she be free?" I ask, barely containing my sarcasm.
"Oh, you can try again in 10 minutes. But don't call this number."
???
When no explanation is provided I said "This is the number listed on pt.lu...?"
"I know, but you shouldn't use it. Call xx xx xx xx." he barks down the line.
Why do I feel like an eight-year old making crank calls?
Okee-dokee. "Goodbye." I say.
"Grunt" he says and hangs up.
Happy shiny people live in this country.
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