The worst black president in history

I’m not proud of the fact that I recently took a customer service job with a major cable/internet provider. In fact, I take long hot showers on a hourly basis just because of the scuzzy feeling I get from hearing people who pay ungodly amounts of money for fast internet and digital television and never get much of either.

The good thing is I can work from home and wear nothing while logging complaints and pretending to address the various issues with my new companies terrible service. It was during one of these recent calls where I met and befriended the man responsible for electing the worst black president in American history.

Let me backtrack, I took a call from someone Chicago, I never really know who I am talking to, nor do I care because company policy is always the same, “we are working on your issues and that problem should be repaired in the next two weeks, is there anything else I can help you with?” That is what I have been taught to tell anyone who calls, regardless of their issue. 

My computer screen tells me where the call is coming from and who the registered person is on the other end of the conversation. Sometimes I pretend to speak a foreign language, with a terrible accent, just to piss people off who almost always start screaming, “it’s low paid illegals like you who are ruining this once great country.” I never bother to tell them that I live in Milwaukee.

So there I was a couple of days ago, sitting on my recliner and telling my dog to stop licking his dog sex organ, when my screen lit up with the call from Chicago. I answered and immediately the belligerent idiot on the other end started railing about my new employers incredibly terrible service. 

“I’ve been calling your outsourced off-shore call center for two months and every time I hear promises about increased service and replacement of broken parts and how my high speed internet should be super fast in the next week or so. Guess what? It has never happened.”

I broke in, “well, maybe I can help you with your problem,” I said, matter of fact like.

“What sort of accent is that, are you in Italy?”

“Very good,” I said in probably the worst Italian accent imaginable. 

“Yeah, this is why your company sucks, because even the lowly and idiotic call center zombies are off shore.”

“Sir, I can promise you that we here at (cable/internet provider) will do whatever it takes to get your the fast internet we have been promising you for months.”

“Look, I don’t want to be a dick or anything, but it’s been months and all I ever hear is that you will send out a tech who will increase the speed, or repair something, or some other excuse.”

“Well, this time, I can promise you that we will resolve this problem,” I lied.

Of course, I knew that I was lying and I kind of figured he knew I was lying, but the online corporate training course I had aced demanded that we lie to all people calling in to complain about any of the terrible services my new employer offered.

The Chicago caller continued to document his various calls and the enormous lies he had been told and asked how I was different. I promised everything was being sent to the preparer managers who could deal with his particular issues. There were no managers who would be reviewing anything, of course. That’s about the time he said, “look, I have been frustrated a lot lately because of this stupid Obamacare mess and all I keep thinking is, if not for me, we would still be happily living under the McCain presidency.”

Well, even for me, a new employee more interested in my dogs grooming habits, was caught just a little off guard. 

“How is the terrible Obamacare mess your fault,” I asked, mostly because I was hoping to avoid hearing any more complaints about my new employers incredibly terrible service.

“About 20 years ago I was trying to impress this woman I was trying to get with by pretending to be a liberal leaning, pot smoking, Southside hipster. That was the fall when Barack Obama was first running for state senator and to score points with this hot woman completely out of my league, I stupidly voted for the unknown candidate, thinking there was no way this guy with the silly name would win more that ten or fifteen votes. Of course he won, and sprung from state senator to Illinois senator and finally, tragically, president. It’s really all my fault in some cosmic way and whenever I see another misstep and failed attempt to turn this once great country into a socialist European state, all I can think of is how all those years ago I was foolish enough to help get this all started.”

“I doubt you are solely responsible for the Obama presidency,” I said, with just a slight bit of sarcasm.

“Check the election results when he ran for state senator, he won by a single vote.”

“Is that true?”

“It is, that’s a fact and I am that vote.”

“Well, you sir, wait, did you actually end up having sex with this Chicago hottie 20 years ago, in exchange for electing the worst black president in history?”

“I did not.”

“Then you sir are a disgrace to both you country and your political party.”

“Will you make sure I get fast internet?”
“Now? No way possible. In fact, as I speak I am deleting your account.” With that, I hung up my phone, only to look across my cluttered living room to now see my dog dragging his butt across my recently shampooed carpet.