TSR Diaries: Damn Yankees
A customer called in, and the line quality was just awful. It was a cell-phone with probably half a bar of coverage, and on top of it, the background noise sounded like a tin roof in a hailstorm – more than likely it was a noisy vehicle. I gave my greeting, and then the customer responded with… well I have no idea what. The noise and the constant cutting in and out made it near impossible. A few things for sure though, screw Political Politeness. Definitely a gravelly, rednecky, “I’ll fuck you up, boy,” kind of guy. He was probably in a tractor-trailer rig with the windows down going down the highway.
I thought the call was dropped because the line went silent. I kept hailing him to see maybe if he could still hear me so he wouldn’t hangup even though I couldn’t hear him. “Are you there, sir?”; “I could hear you for a bit, and then you cut out. Is there still someone there?”; “Hello?”; and so on.
He came back! The signal got a little better, and this is what came through: “Kiss my ass you yankee bastard!”
I guess to a redneck, someone who tries to hide their Texas accent wouldsound like a yankee. Oh well.
Kids these days. Such language!