Monday, December 19, 2011

HellCo: Service With A Condescending, Hateful Smile (Part One)

"HellCo Customer service, this is Beelzebob, how can I pretend to help you today?

Well, sir, I don't think there's any reason to raise your-

Sir, I may be Hellspawn, but I do NOT appreciate being called-

Sir, did you know that HellCo has recently developed spiders that can travel through phone cords? The phone cords make the spiders terribly angry, sir. Angry, and hungry. For eyeballs, sir, it's the strangest thing. You didn't know that? How about that! Learning is wonderful.

Now, please, sir. If you can give me your HellCo account number and your name in a civil tone, I'll be happy to make a show of addressing whatever concerns you might have.

#66666666666? Very good, Mr. Johnson. Oh, no, actually, all of our account numbers are 66666666666. The CEO does enjoy his little jokes, sir. You should hear him tell the one about the Black Death and the infant mortality rate. It would be a real kneeslapper if I had knees, sir.

Now, Mr. Johnson, I have your file open on my HellCo Brand Personal Corrupter, and it APPEARS that you've built up quite a substantial debt to us! In fact, company protocol dictates that I now have to transfer you to the Wrathbeasts over in Collections for processing...


Mr. Johnson, that is a VERY serious accusation. Our HellCo operatives are well trained and highly professional. The idea that one would bill you for unauthorized services.... Well, Mr. Johnson, the idea just doesn't hold up! I'm sure if we walk you through your bill, we'll be able to clear all of this up.

Now, looking on here, it seems you originally contracted us for some... lawn maintenance?

Well, sir, looking at the picture in your file, I can certainly see why you needed it! I assume that this was some sort of abandoned property, possibly inherited from an insane relative with a compulsive desire to make things look terrible?

Oh? It's your home? I understand, Mr. Johnson, it's very easy to let things like this go for... years, it looks like? Perfectly understandable. And I'd like to say how sorry I am about all the vandalism you seem to have experienced.

Oh, the walls are supposed to look like that? How... avant garde! Let me just cover for that awkward faux pas by bringing up the operative's "Job Completion" photo...

Now, sir, I am not a lawns expert. I am a three-mile long demon surgically attached to a phone. But even I know when I am looking at a WELL MAINTAINED LAWN. And that is what I'm seeing in this picture, Mr. Johnson. A lawn, well-maintained. Clearly, you can have no complaints about the services rendered here!

You don't?

Excellent, Mr. Johnson! Then I'll just transfer you over to my good friend GLARGEXX the Fleshreaper in Collections, and-

Other stuff? Why, what "other stuff" do you mean, Mr. Johnson?

Sulfurous chemistry set? I'm sorry sir, HellCo doesn't provide anything like...


Sir, do you mean a patented HellCo Brand Drinks Mixer?

Mr. Johnson, I'd like to be very clear here. Did you contract a HellCo Reanimated Friendship Operative to come to your hideous home and perform back-breaking labor on your disgusting jungle of a lawn... without having a HellCo Brand Drinks Mixer available to slake its thirst?

Mr. Johnson, I am a being that exists only as proof of the idea that the universe is a hostile and hateful place, and your behavior here STILL has managed to sicken me. It will go in my diary (which is made of human skin!): December 19th: SICKENED BY MORTAL FLESH SAC.

All I will say, Mr. Johnson, is that you are very lucky that this particular RFO was resourceful enough to procure the components for a HellCo Brand Drinks Mixer on-site, instead of simply filing a Breach of Contract clause against you.

Of course it's in your contract, it's Line 386 alpha-22, subsection rho. Right there in plain Russian, for all to read.

You don't...

Mr. Johnson, how does a man grow to your extreme age (and, from the profile picture we have for you, fatness) without learning Russian? Do you have a brain disorder? Do you have the brain disorder that makes you ugly and stupid and I HATE YOU?


I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson, that was uncalled for. As a trained Customer Satisfaction Worm, I should be more understanding of the faults and failings of our clientele. In any case, our operative must have just used your available HellCo Brand Personal Transport Portal (guaranteed by you to be provided to our operatives by the contract you signed with us!) to transport itself back to the Home Office to gather the necessary parts to build an HCBDM, which, yes, I now see itemized on your bill, along with... an invoice... for construction of a HellCo Brand Personal Transport Portal...

Mr. Johnson, your flailing negligence in the face of contractual obligations has left me incandescent with rage. Literally. I am glowing, Mr. Johnson, because of how terrible you are. And in order to avoid another venting of my rage bladder (every venting takes HOURS to clean, Mr. Johnson), I am simply going to hang up now, and we will continue this discussion tomorrow.

Goodbye, scumbag!"



"Artie? It's Bob, over in Customer Satisfaction. Can you do me a favor and up the interest rate on an account for me? File #66666666666. Yeah, crank it up to... eh... 45%?, and retroactively add a line to the schmuck's contract about how it's allowed. Yeah, in Russian, if you don't mind. You're a peach Artie. How's Elaine? Good, good. Give her my love. Oh, and can you transfer me over to Nightmares and Hauntings? I've got a special order for them for tonight..."

(To be Continued)

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