Name calling, the Bible Belt, and other adventures

I used to work as a bill collector for a major financial company. Though the job paid well, demanding money from angry debtors was an onerous responsibity and I left work every evening feeling as though someone had taken a massive shit on my soul. Anyone who has ever worked a crappy job can attest to the importance of finding the humorous in the horrible. One must find something to laugh about if one is to make it until lunch break without setting one's own eyebrows on fire. Here are a few tidbits that helped me cope. Perhaps if you're reading this while struggling through your own shift at work, this post may help you kill a bit of time (before you finally lose it and kill those around you).

Customer names (not full names, of course, as I don't wish to be be sued) - The US of A is a diverse place, and because I called people from around the nation, I encountered a variety of um, unforgettable names, such as:

Hung Long
R-sha (pronounced Radasha. Seriously.)
Sopretty (Anyone with this kind of name must ironically be sohideous, don't you think?)
Bich (first name, actually pronounced Bitch. Again, seriously.)
King Kong
Gaylord
Bastardi (a last name!)

Sunday calls to the Bible Belt states - These calls typically went something like this:

Nadya:        Hello, may I speak with ___________?
Customer:   Yes, this is ___________.
Nadya:        (Sir/Ma'am), this is Nadya calling from __________ Financial –
Customer:   Ma'am, are you aware that it's Sunday, the Lord's Day, the Sabbath? What you think you're doin', doin' business on the Sabbath?
Nadya:       Yes, I'm aware that it's Sunday, but I really need to talk to you regarding your 200-day past due balance and haven't been able to reach you during the week –
Customer:    Bitch, how dare you call me on a fucking Sunday? Don't you know that it's the goddamn Sabbath and that you don't fucking call people on a fucking Sunday when they're getting ready to fucking  go to fucking church? Didn't your mother teach you any fucking manners? Don't ever fucking call me on a fucking Sunday ever again!
(inward breath, awkward pause) 
And, um, have a blessed day, ma'am.
(click)

The excuses for not paying on time:

"My dog ate the bill. And then my dog died. And then I got cancer from stressin' so bad about my dead dog."

"I had a medical emergency and had to leave town."  - The customer's account history actually shows that he has been partying it up in Vegas all month. 5-star hotels, trashy strip clubs, all the evidence is there on my computer screen as he details his "emergency."

"Let's not talk about me. Let's talk about you. Nadya's a pretty name. You seeing anyone right now?"