Farking Iceholes

Here at the Company, we are in the business of making phone calls. It’s something we do. Most of the time, this goes well for us, but every now and then…something magical can happen. There are people in the world who are so full of Joie de Vivre that they react to a simple phone call with venomous vitriol. This is one such tale.

We recently did a marketing dialout, something we’re somewhat good at. Suave left his name on the message, and we got some immediate responses. Our phone lines were hoppin’ like a frog convention, so some callers had to put up with voicemail. Normally, this would be a bad thing…but today it’s opened the door for comedy gold.

One such caller left a 1:43 second monologue laced with more expletives than a hot tub party in heaven with George Carlin, Red Foxx, and Richard Pryor. It was redolent of Roman Moronie, a finely woven tapestry of profanity (though without the clever replacement words). Bail out now if you’re allergic to F-bombs.

“Hello, you cocksucker, Suave. You mother fuckhead. You fucking dickhead cocksucker. Fuck you in the ass, you slimy sleazy sonofabitch! You fuckwad.” This is just the opener. It rolled on for 1:43. Nestled deep within it was the point of the call.

“Don’t you ever call me again you Suavefucker asshole.” It continued on, a voicemail that I wished I could frame. Like a glacier, it ground everything beneath a moving wall of profanities.

Needless to say, it resulted in gales of laughter. We replayed it over and over, like giggling schoolboys just hearing Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television for the first time. (That’s 2 Carlin references, boys and girls.) It was beyond "FTW." It was DRATW.

Ironically, he left no phone number. We don’t know who he was…and I really hope we call him again. It’s always good to have laughter in the workplace.