Coffee Barf -- III: Son Of Starbucks

Okay, so I garnished the entry with a totally off-topic photo. I mean, what does Starbucks and Barney have in common?

About as much as common sense has in common with the phone call transcripts you're about to read.

As I said, I didn't know for sure who was calling; I just knew that telemarketers aren't generally prone to calling thrice in rapid succession. So on the odd chance that it was hisself, Mr. Dean John of Costa Coffee, I took a deep breath and a page from Telephone Improv 101, answering in my best Ozark redneck voice:

Me: *taking a moment to listen to the connection, which sounds tinny and odd*..H..H..hallo?

DJ: *moment of hesitation*...Manes....

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *garbled*...Costa Coffee...you understand to me?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *hesitation*...this is Mr. Dean John...Costa Coffee. I must speak to you about Western Union information..

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *hesitation, then sounds like he's talking to someone there with him*...*then speaks to me in louder voice*...this is Mr. Dean John. Dean John. You hear? I want to know about Western Union..

Me: Uh yawp..wahl, I dunno bout Western Union. Call 'em an' ask them about them. Who're yew?

DJ: *something indistinguishable*...I am DEAN JOHN! You must tell me about Western Union you send..

Me: Ohhhh, yore Mr. Dean John? My employer?

DJ: Yes, Manes..please give me more information about Western Union..

Me: Wahl, they been in business fer quite a spell, I reckon...

DJ: *something indistinguishable in background*...Manes, can you hear me?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: I AM DEAN JOHN! I want you tell me about Western Union transaction..

Me: Oh, that thang? Hang on and let me git the paper hyar..

*Click* as I deliberately hang up on him.

A minute goes by, then *ringing phone*, and the same "Unknown Name, Unknown Number". Game on again:

Me: H...H..Hallo?

DJ: *tinny echo sounds*...Manes, are you there?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *something blunt and annoyed sounding*...I am Dean John, can't you hear me?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: I AM DEAN JOHN! CUT THIS OUT NOW AND TELL ME..

Me: Uh, feller...no need ta yell hyar...I kin hear yew fine.

DJ: Manes, I must have Western Union information..

Me: What information?

DJ: *speaks slowly to me now*..HOW...MUCH...MONEY...DID YOU SEND?

Me: Oh, the money...wahl...all there wuz, after my cut...I do thank ye fer it.

DJ: But HOW MUCH IS ON RECEIPT? WHAT IS AMOUNT?

Me: A bunch, less my 10 purscent. That all ye want now? I gotsta pee bad...

DJ: Manes...I need test question you use...

Me: Text question? I gotsta pee hyar...

DJ: MANES! I NEED TEST QUESTION NOW!

Me: Ohhhhhhhhh, that thang...lemme cross me legs and remember what I writ..

DJ: Yes, please! I need it to..

Me: Wahl, okay...if a sheep is a ram and a donkey is an ass, why is ram in the ass a goose?

DJ: *dead silence, then noise in background and someone else saying something in background*

Me: I know it's a toughie, but ah cain't wait long...gotsta pee hyar..

DJ: But what was test answer you use?

Me: Oh, I cain't tell you that, John...you hafta guess it..

DJ: *not sure*...NOW LISTEN TO ME MANES...I NEED THIS...

Me: Now feller, why would they call it a test question, if you weren't being tested fer the answer? If I give it to you, you give it to your friends, and then we'll never know who gits the money, y'unnderstand what I'm saying hyar?

DJ: Manes...Manes, this is not funny business..

Me: Uh, yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *noise and chatter in background*..MANES..

Me: Uh, yawp...who're yew?

DJ: *yelling now* MANES, STOP THIS..

Me: Uh yawp...ah cain't cross mah legs no more hyar, feller...who're yew?

DJ: MANES! I DEMAND YOU STOP THIS..

Me: Wahl, why din' ya say so? Bub-bye!

*click* (from my end)

In less than a minute, the phone rings yet again...

Me: H...h...hallo?

DJ: MANES! ARE YOU THERE?

Me: Uh yawp...who're yew?

DJ: MANES, THIS IS NO LAUGHING BUSINESS..

Me: Uh yawp...haw haw haw..yep, yer right...tain't laughin' hyar...who're yew?

DJ: MANES!!

Me: Whar's Manes? Oh, that's me...silly feller. Who're yew?

DJ: *something exasperated-sounding, followed by a click and dial tone*

My phone rings no more. Like Son of Cheesburger a couple-three decades before, Son of Starbucks annoys to the point of no more calls. Like I said, I wish I could have recorded it; I think the actual version was funnier than the one I recalled from memory.

I wait an hour, and then find this email from his thoroughly riled self:

MANES
I DON'T FIND YOU FUNNY AT ALL. NOW THIS IS BUSINESS AND YOU GET ME THE ANSWERS I ASK FOR NOW! HOW MUCH WAS AMOUNT YOU SENT WESTERN UNION AND WHAT WAS THE TEST QUESTION AND ANSWER YOU USED. SEND IT TO ME NOW AND NO MORE GAME.

But I like this game:
MR. DEAN WITH A DUNNY ATTACHED, BUT I LIKE GAMES. GAMES ARE FUN. GAMES ALLOW THE INNER CHILD IN EVERY ADULT TO GET SILLY, JUMP ON THE BED, GIVE YOUR LITTLE BROTHER A WEDGIE, SET YOUR SISTER'S BARBIE DOLL'S HAIR ON FIRE, AND MAKE THINGS ONLY ADULTS UNDERSTAND WITH PLAYDOH. But I digress.

The amount of money I sent was all there was after my 10%. And I gave you the test question. You have to give me the test answer. If you don't, you don't get to collect your money. Neener neener boo boo.

The next morning, Dean John has had enough of this yokel soundin' feller:

MANES YOU ARE FAKE! YOU SEND NO MONEY. YOU NOT RECEIVE MONEY ORDER OR YOU KNOW AMOUNT! U ARE A BIGGGGGG FOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLL LIKE ALL AMERICAN!

Sadly for him, on the day he sends me this, I receive the money orders. All four of them. So I scan them in to my system, and attach them to this reply:

Mr. Dean named after a dunny,
I think you'll find when you closely examine the attachment(s), the four money orders your dingbat accomplice Eugene Kline sent to me. Yes, I have them. No, I didn't send you any money. But it was sure fun listening to you shriek and rant about it. It was even funnier recording those three phone calls (okay, so I lied again..but HE don't know that), so I can share them online, along with a copy of all of our communications.

See, Dean named for a dunny, I knew you were a scam from the beginning. I dissed you as U. R. Phulovit, the first time you wrote to me. And you told me not to *writ* to you again. So I did. As Myra Manes. And you bit like a sucker fish on a worm.

So I have your fake money orders. And your phone calls. And your emails. And I'm going publish them all on the world wide web, so ANYONE CAN READ ABOUT HOW MUCH BIGGER A BENIN MUUUUGGGGGGUUUUUUUU YOU ARE!!!!! WHO'RE YEW? THE BIGGEST MUUUUGGGGGUUUUUUUU IN BENIN!!!!!!!!

Thanks for playing, Dean named for an outhouse. I shall display with pride the bogus money orders your flunky sent to the address I borrowed. You are so STUPID!

Thank you for being so STUPID! Oh, and just for the record...Costa Coffee sucks rocks, but not half as bad as you're STUPID!

U. R. Phulovit as Myra Manes

Now that I got my trophy from a genuine stupid mugu, I'll go back to following the tried and true rules of the scambaiter road.





For now. After all, who knows when an even better Son of Scambaiter opportunity might come along?