I Am Omipotent

I disguise myself as a lowly “customer service associate” at a local branch of an international chain of office supply stores. At first glance, I appear to be as lowly as any other human. Perhaps lowlier, for I have taken to myself the icons of the servile - the nametag, the pasted-on smile, and the unmistakable uniform of store-branded polo shirt and well-worn khaki trousers. Yet I am omnipotent. I have amazing powers of discernment, memory, and stuff-findy. I am a god. A very lowly god, but a goddess nevertheless.

“I can’t find a widget.”
“What sort of a widget do you seek, sir?”
“A widget for a doohickie. Y’know, the grey doohickie by Huge Corporation That Makes Billions Of Grey Doohickies, Each Of Which Takes A Different Widget.”
“Do you know which model of doohickie you own?”
“That’s your job. You should know what I need. You’re getting paid for it.”

How right you are, sir! Excuse me as I engage my Psychic Powers to discover exactly which of the approximately nine dozen widgets we have in the store is the correct one for your unknown doohickie.

“Find my pencils for me.”
“Which kind were you looking for?”
“They’re exactly 7 3/8 inches long, with a diameter of just under one quarter inch, 6mm lead and they are blue on the outside.”
“Are these it?”
“No, those are 7 3/8 inches long, but their diameter is exactly one quarter inch, which is too thick, and their lead only comes in 5mm or 7mm.”
“How about these?”
“No. The lead is the right thickness, but they are the wrong shade of blue.”
“These?”
“No, those are all wrong! I know I bought my pencils here two years ago. I demand that you find my pencils and give them to me right now - you must have them somewhere.”

I sincerely apologize for my obvious lack of foresight in reserving your pencil orders from two years ago. How could I have neglected such an obvious use of my omnipotence?

“I want to buy this laminating machine.”
“Ok. Did you have any questions about it first? Do you need to get the sheets to go with it, perhaps?”
“No, but I want you to give me a percentage off.”
“Ma’am?”
“I bought my printer here two months ago.”
“Do you like it?”
“And last year I bought a computer here.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve spent a lot of money here.”
“I suppose you have.”
“So I want you to give me a percentage off from this laminating machine.”
“Let me call my manager and see what we can do about that for you.”
“If you don’t give me at least $25 off this laminating machine, I’m not going to buy it. I bought an entire case of paper here just yesterday!”

How could I fail to give you a 40% discount upon hearing that you spent about $20 here yesterday, and $150 a few months back? I could never bear to lose your amazingly spendiferous custom.

“The stockboy says you’re all out of blank gift certificate forms.”
“Let me take a gander at the computer inventory to double-check that for you… Yes, sir, I’m sorry, but we are out of stock on that. If you’d like, I could order some for you through our internet service, and have them shipped directly to your home or office.”
“No, I need them today.”
“Would you like me to call one of our other nearby stores, and see if they have some you could buy?”
“No, I need them today and I’m not driving all the way to another town for them. Find me some.”
“Sir, the best I could do for you would be to find the closest store that has them in stock, and have them set some aside for you. In fact, if you absolutely need them tonight, I could even go pick them up for you at the other location and bring them back here if that’s more convienent.”
“No. I want you to give me some right now.”

Allow me to pull them out of my magical anus of power, which has the ability to create whatever you want instantly out of the same material as resides between your ears!

There is a classic conversation that consists entirely of the customer pushing a laden cart up to my register, looking me in the eyes and saying “I work for Local Business.”

This is my cue to use my omnipotence to ascertain that he is informing me not only that this is a business purchase, but how he is going to pay. He intends to use the business’ credit account. He does not, of course, intend to give me the account number, nor will he understand that I need the account number to process the transaction. He will probably become belligerent, and when he is forced to telephone the office (for free, using the telephone that I provide for his use, and sitting in a chair near my counter, while writing with my pen on my scratch pad) he will blame me for his wasted time. The concept of credit accounts being the same as credit cards is lost on him. It is rather like walking up to me and saying “I have a Visa.”

I try my very hardest to use my omnipotence for good and to remain unfailingly pleasant and polite to all of my superiors who choose to grace me with their presence each day… but sometimes, it is so very, very difficult not to simply pull out the world’s smallest violin and entertain all with a moving rendition of “My Heart Bleeds Purple Piss For You”…

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

Yeah. Sounds like my old OrificeMax customers. Heh. :eek:

“OrificeMax: taking rainchikki’s “magical anus of power” to the max!”

:stuck_out_tongue:

But wait, I needed 1800 copies of this six hours ago, and I bought a pad of Post-It notes three years ago! Remember me?

Double click ???

Sorry, but my Xerox 5090 super-duper copier only cranks out 136 copies a minute. I’m afraid 1800 in a half-minute might be beyond what Xerox guarantees. Would you like to take up all the self-serve copiers so no one else can use them?

:wink:

I believe I left something out of my OP that I intended to include:

“Do you take checks?”
“Yes we do, ma’am. I’ll just need to have a phone number, and could I see your driver’s license?”
“Why do you need to see my license? Don’t you believe I’m me?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but the computer requires me to put in your driver’s license number.”
“I don’t want to show you my license. Make something up. That’s a stupid rule.”
“If I make something up, ma’am, it’ll lead the company that takes care of our checks to think this is fraud. They could contact your bank about it, and your bank would be worried that someone besides you was using your checks. All I need to do is copy down the number off your license.”
“How do I know you won’t be writing all this down yourself and using it on the internet to buy things with my checks?”
“Ma’am, if it would make you feel better, you can watch me write it down.”
“Don’t look at the picture. I still don’t see why you need this. I come in here all the time. I am obviously me.”

For an omnipotent creature, I certainly have many failings.

Lovely, just lovely. :smiley:

I’d love to add to the theme, but, unfortunately nearly all of my Omniscient God disguised as servile-lackey memories consist of endless variations on the theme of, “You know, that movie, with the guy who was in that other movie that I really liked, where he meets the girl from that show. Do you have that one?”

Just for the hellacious fun of it, every once in a while I’d get something along the lines of, “Well, the other guy lets me return movies after 9PM without charging me any late fees all the time.” This when I am in fact the only male who works in the place, and the only other person behind the counter (the store owner, on my days off) could not be mistaken for a man even if looked at through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars, at twenty paces, whilst deconstructing heavy machinery with a pick axe and a jar of rhubarb preserves.

[sub]Sure “he” does, hon. I just bet “he” lets you pay for your rentals with oral sex, too, right? Hey, what’s wrong, where ya goin’? What are you pissed about, was “he” not supposed to tell me that bit?[/sub]

Well I’m just glad that you’re Omipotent as opposed to Omnipotent. :slight_smile:

Good thing that racinchikki only claimed to be “Omipotent” rather than “Omniscient”, otherwise Xploder may have xploded the argument.

P.S., great story racinchikki. I haven’t experienced it from your side, but I’m always the one waiting in line behind the impossible customer.

racinchikki

Now you know why I hate People
:smiley:

I try my very best not yo xplode unless provoked. :slight_smile:

My sister works in the pizza biz. These days, she manages a whole bunch of stores, but back in her early days when she was just a lowly store manager, she had this experience:
Customer comes in to pick up her pizza, and one of the toppings is wrong.
Customer: This isn’t what I ordered.
My sister: I’m very sorry, ma’am. We’ll make you a new one right away, and we won’t charge you for it.
C: I want this one, too. The messed up one.
MS: Yes, ma’am, of course.
C: (Pointing at pizza on shelf, waiting to be picked up) I want that one, too, to make up for my trouble.
MS: Umm, ma’am, that’s someone elses pizza. I can’t let you have that.

At this point, the custome proceeds to throw such a hissie fit because she can’t have her own 2 free pizzas PLUS someone else’s pizza, that one of the customers in the store offers to call the police to have her removed. At this point, the customer storms out, threatening (promising?) never to return. My sister breathes a sigh of relief.

I swear to God that’s a true story.

Of course, I meant to not yo…ish…

**racinchikki, ** your OP…a thing of beauty. I am humbled by it’s awesomeness. And “Magical Anus of Power…” Oh my. I think that’s the best band name ever.

May we use your OP in Teemings Extras? It’s glorious.

Thank you,
Persephone
Senior Editor, Teemings

Get over it.

This is no more or less than what my clients expect from me. I mean, if I can’t rid their entire property of every bug known to man, what the hell good am I? They pay me to get rid of their pests, and that includes everything within a half-acre of their property.

You’re obviously just a slacker, racinchikki. You should be ashamed of yourself.

p.s. Great OP. Great, great, great OP. You. Are. Magnificent.

Chikkiboo, I keep meaning to tell you that you’re a wonderful writer. Consider it done, now.

Wow. My customers shop at your store, too, racinchikki? Did you get the woman who calls to ask the price of an item 3 times (well, she calls, and then she has her cow-orker call, and then she calls again) and then says that her sale flyer lists a cheaper price and the flyer is 3 months expired?

Beautiful rant. I was the one standing in line at Orifice Max last month behind the woman who had the expired coupon for printer paper, and I would have thoroughly enjoyed watching you pull out your tiny violin and playing “My Heart Bleeds Purple Piss For You” at her.

I’m sorry, ma’am, today is the 5th and this coupon expired the 3rd
But it’s only two days!
I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s expired
But it’s only two daayyys!
I’m SORRY, ma’am, it’s EXPIRED
But it’s oonnnnly twoooooo daaaaayyyyyys!!!
I’m SORRRRRY, ma’am…

It was at this point that a little music would have gone down nicely.