We had a bunch of new starts in work today, they were doing this thing where they sat with us on the phones for a day and we let them listen to us being professional and showing them the ropes.
Whores Bastard was among them for some reason. Me and Little My told the rest of our group about him. Book Boy says they'll let any old shite in because call centres are on the skids and it's better than putting them in jail. We all gave each other "it's not me, it's you" eyes.
The fellah I had was this wee balding eighteen year old who kept rubbing his crotch when he thought I was watching the computer screen. I asked him what his problem was and he nodded over at the twelve foot amazon sitting purring down the phone beside Kissy Boy (how does the lucky bastard do it!)
"I want to lick her legs," he said in the keenest voice I've ever heard.
"You'd have a dry tongue by the time you got to the top of them," I shrugged. I didn't want him to know I was jealous!
"I'd love a little girl of my own," he whinned, he was half in tears and openly rubbing himself down in front of me.
"She's not a little girl," I said. "You'd need a stepladder to give her a kiss."
"She could lift me up," he said. "I'd love that."
"Shut up for fucksake, people are watching us."
"I'm putting in a complaint about this," said the customer.
I hadn't hung up properly. Fuck this I'm so sick of dickheads. I told him I'd his address and if he put in a complaint he'd be getting a visit. I'd spend my last penny on the plane.
