Mina the Cat
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Feline Customer Service: I'm Mina, How Can't I Help You?

Lazy? No. Just hard at work at avoiding all work.

 |  Mar 4th 2013  |   2 Contributions


The other day, Daddy was sitting angrily, listening to his cell phone for more than an hour when Mommy came home. They talked about whatever humans talk about, but, at some point, I distinctly remember Daddy saying, and I'm quoting directly, "Customer service has become a race to the bottom." Thus, I have decided to pursue a career in customer service, because I can win that race.

My ignoring technique is so advanced I can ignore Mommy, Mina, and a photographer all at the same time.

As far as I can tell from watching Daddy's dealings with customer service, the primary goal of customer service is to keep people waiting on hold until they hang up. I'd be very good at that job, because I can't answer the phone. I also can't respond to email, Yahoo instant message, or Skype. In fact, whenever Daddy's phone or computer makes a sound indicating one of these is happening, I run from the room at top speed and hide under the futon.

Yours truly, hard at work ignoring calls from unsatisfied customers.

I never avoid the phone by hiding behind the couch, because, as you all know, Baltimore might be there, and, from what I've seen of The Wire, Baltimore is full of people I don't know. This leads me to another reason I would be the best bad customer service representative in the world. I refuse to talk to strangers. So, if I worked in a cube farm and was forced to answer the phone, I would respond only to humans I knew personally. If the caller wasn't Mommy, Daddy, one of my uncles or aunts, one of my other servitor thumb beasts, or a member of the staff of Catster, I would just sit there silently until I decided to hang up. 

I can't hear you phone, so, please, stop vibrating.

In fairness, I might also hang up on most of my co-workers from Catster.

But the key reason I would be terrible in that environment has a lot to do with the name: "cube farm." A farm is a place where humans produce the raw materials to make meat; apparently, some of those materials are cubes. Farms, by definition, have to be outside, because that's where the dirt, rain, and fertilizer are. And, as we've established: I don't. Go. Outside.

So I wouldn't even show up to work. I would just stay home.

Hello, this is Ziggy, can I help you?

So if any big customer service firms are looking for a cat to hire, because they want someone who can take actually dealing with customers to a new low never before seen, you can call me. I won't answer, but I may hide under the futon.

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