How to transfer phones. It’s simple and easy as shit. You answer, mumble something really fucking quickly so it flusters the caller. If you are successful, you will hear an unsure response of ‘hello.. eh-o?’ Next, it is imperative – IMPERATIVE – to listen what they ask next because this is what determines your next response. There are three types of callers and they all require different responses. The first caller would be the confused dumbass trying to do business with you because your company is somehow connected to what they are trying to do. In our case, as an arts-oriented publishing company, I receive calls usually once every two weeks of people looking to sell artwork. These people are generally retarded fools who should have been hit by a car while crossing the road at night dressed in all black. But they didn’t, so you must question their motives. Mostly, they are lonely old people who are slowly going senile and have no friends or relatives that care to hear about their once-a-week bowel movements. The next type of people are people who need to be transferred to so-and-so because they’re working with them or they’re an artist or a gallery trying to get hold of such-and-such department and yadda yadda blah dee fucking doodley boo. Finally, the last client is the best because they represent a fusion of smegma, tragedy, and ingenuity. These are the types of people that drive the industrialism of
OHhhh they won’t let you go. They say stuff, you say stuff. They’re insistent. You’re indifferent. You mourn the underlying layer of filthy silt that makes up the free market. But you are also secretly aware that you have the power; you can hang up anytime but you don’t because your head swells with power. The power! The true tragedy lies in the power and strength you get from dominating these older men (and they are always men, the Willy Lomans of the world, but with some inexplicable ability to survive; for these men would never kill themselves, they’d just beat their wives or their meat, whichever is closer)
