As a rather snarky person (Btw, I love the word snarky. It’s just one of those words that sounds like what it means, you know?) I have a rather extensive list of pet peeves. Some of these things I can tolerate more than others and reactions range from incoherent rage rants, to some minor eye twitching and acerbic commentary to A.
Today’s peeve: Talking on the phone in the bathroom.
I shouldn’t even have to go into detail on why this is a no-no. I really shouldn’t. But obviously, since so many people do it, I need to. I can’t even begin to tell you how disturbing that little nugget of knowledge is.
1) I can hear everything going on in the background. Yes, that means that I can hear what you’re doing in the bathroom. I can hear the flush and everything leading up to it. And can I just say: Eww! No one wants to hear that. If you can’t wait to do your business, wait to call.
2) If you aren’t in your home bathroom, which no matter how clean you keep it is still none too clean, that means you’re in a public bathroom. I can guarantee that those suckers aren’t clean enough. Oh and I. CAN. HEAR. EVERYTHING.
3) People don’t wash their hands. You probably don’t wash your hands. But you do handle your phone with your hands. And it nestles lovingly against your face. Are you with me here? It’s called hepatitis and it doesn’t go away.
4) Hey guess what? If you’re in a public restroom and I can hear what’s going on over the phone… THE OTHER PEOPLE IN THE RESTROOM CAN HEAR YOU ON THE PHONE!! I have been one of the people in the public restroom hearing about your pap smear and I now know more than I ever wanted to about your womanly bits. Thanks ever so much for that mental scar.
Yes, I might be a tad on the germophobic side. I may even be overreacting just a tad. But I really don’t think so.
What prompted this you ask?
Well. Where I work, we get a lot of odd phone calls. People call up asking for services that we don’t provide. They want us to fix their cars, pay their rent, implant silicon in their chests and butts, thread their eyebrows, and other off the wall things.
A woman called yesterday afternoon to sign up for classes for a provisional license.
I do not work at the DMV.
So I politely explained that she’d need to call the DMV to arrange for a license.
Oh but she knew that. She just needed to sign up for classes and that’s why she called me.
No mention of what sort of classes she wanted, so naturally I’m totally lost, because we also don’t teach driver’s ed.
I finally got her to explain what sort of classes she wanted. Lo and behold, it really was something we do. So I transfered her.
Then I told A the story.
Me: Thank you for calling ___. How may I help you?
Her: Yeah, I need information on classes.
Me: Which classes did you need information on?
Her: I need to sign up for classes so I can get a provisional license.
Me: Oh, I’m sorry. You’ll need to call the DMV for that.
Her: I know, but first I have to sign up for classes.
*toilet flush* (I’m already confused about what she wanted, now I’m skeeved out and wanting a shower.)
Me: I’m sorry, what kind of classes are you looking for, then?
Her: You know, classes so I can get my license.
*toilet flush* (Oh for real? Not only are you in a bathroom, but a multi-user bathroom? *GAG*)
Me: Okay, but I don’t know what you need. What kind of classes?
Her: Well don’t you do ____ classes there?
*toilet flush* (!!!!!!!!!!)
Me: Yes, we sure do! Please hold for me while I transfer you.
Couldn’t transfer that call fast enough.
And now I need another shower.