I can't talk about politics. I just don't want to think about it any more. I can't talk about Algebra, that's too, too utterly boring to me so I'm sure you're not thinking, "Gosh, I wish she'd just explain that bit about why you have to square any expressions with radicals in the denominator to create conjugates." Nope. And I am still blue about all the things going on in my social life, on and offline. So let's have a wacky client story or two. We can all enjoy that.
Yesterday a woman called and said she wanted me to find her a group deal for 12 people going to Mazatlan between Christmas and New Year's, and she didn't want to pay more than $500 apiece for the air, and could I please give her a quote?
"No," I said without even looking at my computer. "I can't. There are no available flights to any Mexican resort between Christmas and New Year's. You'll need to choose another date or another destination." She didn't believe me. I explained it again using shorter words.
"Just get me a deal on the hotel, then," she said kind of snippily, "I'll get us there myself."
Which part of 'the flights are completely sold out' didn't you understand? I thought to myself. "I'm sorry, ma'am, there certainly isn't going to be any kind of deal at the hotels, that's high season. You'll be lucky to get six rooms at the same hotel. Rooms are running about $300 a night."
Much huffing and puffing about this. Then, the clincher. "Okay," she said. "We'll go at Thanksgiving instead."
I made a very audible choking sound. She reluctantly agreed to think about booking now for next April, and said she'd call back. I'm guessing she won't. She didn't enjoy the reality check, but I have to wonder what rock she's been living under. Anyone who thinks they're going to find a cheap flight to a warm, tropical beachfront resort two months, let alone two weeks, before a major holiday is seriously deluded. You don't have to be a travel agent to know that.
Today one of my co-workers got a call from a new admin who firmly stated that her boss needed a flight to "Milan, Spain." We all yucked it up over that one.
My favorite inadvertantly funny travel request was from the fellow who wanted to know how he could join the Mile High Club. It turns out there's a local singles group calling themselves the Mile High Club, perfectly legit, and they do a lot of travel-oriented outings. As far as I can tell, though, having sex in an airplane, the previous definition of being part of the so-called Mile High Club, isn't one of their requirements for joining. He was terribly embarrassed when I explained it.
I have a new candidate for 'most unlikely client since that guy who thought he was Jesus.' I don't know his name. I know he's homeless, I know he's from New York, I know he has the biggest boom box I have ever seen outside of a Good Times episode, and I know he thinks I am his friend. He comes to see me all the time. Never buys a ticket. Never rambles too much. Doesn't smell, so I don't object to the visits. Is always very polite, explains he is going to move back to New York any minute now because he can live cheaper there, wants to know the least expensive fare. We have kind of an understanding. He sits and chats for a few minutes about once a week, occasionally stops by and hollers "Hello, sweetheart," from the doorway, and moves on. No one else in the office gets why I put up with him.
I guess it's because it's obvious to me that he could be me, or someone I know, if just one too many things went wrong in life. It's a lousy thing to be down on your luck. Whether it's his "fault" or not that he's homeless, that man needs someone to be polite and treat him like he has money and just chooses not to spend it. We all need a little fiction in our lives.
Even people who think they're going to Mexico for Christmas.
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