Oui Wee

I’ve done a great job blogging haven’t I? Saturday January 2 was my last, and first, blog entry. The entry was mushy, love-filled, and idealistic. Well, over six months have passed so I guess it’s time for another entry. Let’s see what has changed.

My last job in the customer service industry dates back to my time as a server at Chili’s. We all love molten hot lava cake don’t we? I know I do. But one thing I despised about the job was the real basis of the job, that being dealing with people. The constant nagging to refill the chips and salsa which disappeared at supersonic speed once set on the table was tiring (chips should be munched on, not inhaled). I didn’t last long as a Chili-head. Six months I think. That being said, customer service is not my fortee and this job is doing a good job of reminding me of that.

While I love biking and Paris, the customer service aspect of the job (comprising approximately 93% of the job) has been taxing to say the least. While I could dwell on the frustration, I’ve decided to turn my lemons into a lemon popsicle by sharing/documenting some of the more entertaining stories that have happened on tour.

I present to you story number one: Oui Wee

A few weeks ago we (Fat Tire) had a large private contract with the international energy company Chevron. This could have been a very exciting line of tourists for me, since off shore drilling was still socially acceptable pre-Deep Sea Horizon. I love a good talking to from engineers, but this group was far from the glasses wearing, TI-89 wielding engineers I was anticipating. These people, from what I gather, were the top support and sales staff. Sales is not a direct disqualifier in my book, many of my friends are in sales, but the general appearance and demeanor of this group was the big tip off.

The group was comprised of four women from the same office all wearing T-shirts with the State of Texas flag bedazzled on the breast, reflective New Balance tennis shoes, and blue jean shorts. The women also happened to be near 300 pounds, pushing the 300 pound Segway weight limit and inflicting misery on the poor lithium ion batteries. I knew this tour was going to be a special one when I introduced myself as Bubba and the women began to snort with laughter, collectively drowning out the din of the office and drawing the attention of everyone within a 50 yard radius.

Segway training went well but slow. The larger the person riding a Segway, the more room there is for error. The women however were surprisingly nimble for their size and the small talk during training was bearable aside from the occasional pig groan or cackle from one of my many canned jokes. After 30 minutes or so, training was complete and we took to the city. No notable event happened until we reached Place de la Concorde.

While overlooking the 18^th century square I was explaining how, during the French Revolution, the square was the central location for the infamous guillotine. When I explain the revolutionaries’ affinity for the device, I always used a canned joke referencing Pringles, the chip brand. The joke goes something like “they really loved the guillotine here in France guys…you know like a can of Pringles? Once you pop you can’t stop?”. For some reason this joke really registered with one of the women and she began to tremble with snorting laughter. Unfortunately for her, the trembling was too much for the Segway which decided to release itself from its weighty burden by spinning the woman off the machine to the ground. Segway crashes are common, but it’s not every day that you get to experience someone of this mass fall from such a height. As I sped over to the fallen Texan, I was surprised to find her where I last saw her, snorting and trembling. Was this a sad snort with painful convulsions? No. Unbeknownst to me, the snorting was very hard to distinguish, the women was still laughing. I was beginning to get quite worried because the fallen piggy at my urgent request could not respond to any questions.

“Are you ok?”….snort…”That was some fall huh?”…snort, tremble…..”You want me to help you up now?”…snort, tremble, shake, snort.

This continued for three long minutes when something unpredictable happened. Not only was the fallen piggy snorting with laughter, but the entire herd began to cackle. Now I was stumped. Was the snorting really laughing, or was it some dialect of Pig Latin I wasn’t familiar with?

For several minutes no progress was made. It wasn’t until the three standing piggies, using their system of grunts and cackles, helped the fallen one to her feet that the situation become horribly more clear. Situated from the crotch to the buttocks area of the fallen piggy was a wet spot roughly the size of Texas. When asked what happened, the only understandable answer she provided me was in French: oui oui.