So last night I'm toddling around the apartment about to go to bed and suddenly there is a mess of lights and sirens flying by out side. Cops mostly, but also two ambulances. They were heading south, and the fire station is south of me, so I don't know if there were fire trucks. It was quite a ruckus at any rate.
So today I went to see what happened. I checked both of our weekly, local (Oak Park centric) papers' web sites, and I couldn't find anything. So I wrote to one of them:
"I live on Oak Park Avenue, and last night there were about six squad cars blaring by, alarms and lights going. It sounded like there were more coming from a block or more west of OP Ave, too, but that might have just been a Doppler thing. I also heard two ambulances. What happened?
Why isn't this newsworthy? I'm not trying to be a smart ass here, I just don't understand why all the news on oakleaves.com is old news, not new news. I understand that you publish every Wednesday, but does that necessitate a completely block on current events throughout the week?
Meg"
And this lady writes back,
"Meg,
Who said it’s not newsworthy? I heard the sirens too, around 10 p.m. We don’t work overnight. When we find out what happened, we’ll get it on the web.
Cheri"
What the fuck? She's the editor of this paper and she hears all these sirens and can't be bothered to put her damn coat on and go get the haps? Yes, it was cold last night, but if I had a press pass I'd be running down there like a hooker to a ho convention, half because I'm nosy and half because it's my damn job.
This shit is why she's always going to be the editor of some shitty local weekly rag instead of working at a real newspaper.
Showing posts with label correspondence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label correspondence. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Friday, June 1, 2007
Illegal Parkers
Dear illegal parkers,
Now that summer is here and the regular TV season is over, I spend a lot of time sitting by my front windows and reading. There's a small grocery store across the street, in front of which is a spot for handicapped parking.
Every dang day I see at least five cars pull up in that spot. Out leap one or more passengers who are getting out of the car with no assistance. They run down to the coffee shop, into the store, or across the street to the cigar shop.
You people are a bunch of bastards.
Yesterday, one car full of women pulled up. It was parked half in the handicapped spot, half in front of a fire hydrant. Perhaps the theory was that because the car wasn't completely parked in either illegal spot, it was okay to be assholes.
An older car drove by with a little old man at the wheel and a little old lady pointing at the spot. You know where this story is going. He slowed down, saw he couldn't get into the spot, and drove on. Five or six minutes later, he came quivering down the street, resting every few steps. During these rests, his wife adjusted her purse on her forearm, which kept slipping because she was using a walker.
Oh, but those bitches in the car got their damn lattes! They came back two or three minutes after the elderly couple had gone into the store, laughing and giggling like they hadn't a care in the world.
Maybe that old couple, in their youth, had taken up handicapped spaces in parking lots. I doubt it, since there probably weren't handicapped spaces when they were in their 20's, but maybe they did and this is karma. At any rate, I hope that carload of bitches gets sideswiped by a hit and run driver.
In the future please park in front of the hydrant instead. The likelihood of a fire is far less than that of someone needing that spot.
Oh, and fair warning to all of you illegal parkers - starting this weekend, I'm taking pictures of you and your illegally parked car, and I'm sending 'em to the cops so they can do that whole ticket by mail thing.
Jerks.
Sincerely,
~m
Now that summer is here and the regular TV season is over, I spend a lot of time sitting by my front windows and reading. There's a small grocery store across the street, in front of which is a spot for handicapped parking.
Every dang day I see at least five cars pull up in that spot. Out leap one or more passengers who are getting out of the car with no assistance. They run down to the coffee shop, into the store, or across the street to the cigar shop.
You people are a bunch of bastards.
Yesterday, one car full of women pulled up. It was parked half in the handicapped spot, half in front of a fire hydrant. Perhaps the theory was that because the car wasn't completely parked in either illegal spot, it was okay to be assholes.
An older car drove by with a little old man at the wheel and a little old lady pointing at the spot. You know where this story is going. He slowed down, saw he couldn't get into the spot, and drove on. Five or six minutes later, he came quivering down the street, resting every few steps. During these rests, his wife adjusted her purse on her forearm, which kept slipping because she was using a walker.
Oh, but those bitches in the car got their damn lattes! They came back two or three minutes after the elderly couple had gone into the store, laughing and giggling like they hadn't a care in the world.
Maybe that old couple, in their youth, had taken up handicapped spaces in parking lots. I doubt it, since there probably weren't handicapped spaces when they were in their 20's, but maybe they did and this is karma. At any rate, I hope that carload of bitches gets sideswiped by a hit and run driver.
In the future please park in front of the hydrant instead. The likelihood of a fire is far less than that of someone needing that spot.
Oh, and fair warning to all of you illegal parkers - starting this weekend, I'm taking pictures of you and your illegally parked car, and I'm sending 'em to the cops so they can do that whole ticket by mail thing.
Jerks.
Sincerely,
~m
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Fuck you, Community College
Dear my fucking school,
Look, I understand that you're just a crappy community college and nobody expects much of you, your students, or your faculty. But if you could maybe train your fucking faculty and staff to quit losing my goddamn homework that would be hell of awesome.
Let's start with my chemistry labs - worth 120 points - that were slipped under the door of the science department office but never made it to my professor's desk. 120 fucking points. I'm likely going to have to pay $200 to take the course over because it's a lab credit course and no grade can be given without the labs.
Today I got an email from my history professor. She never got my final exam, which I took way the hell back on the 12th. I handed it in at the little computer lab area where you go to take tests for online classes, but she never got it. How goddam fucking hard is it to hand some fucking papers over to the people to whom they belong?
Fuck you, crappy community college. One more year of your bullshit and then I'm gone, left only with my nearly worthless diploma and $10,000 in debt, and the lesson learned that I should always make copies of everything I ever hand in, ever, because somewhere along the line there's some fuckwit who doesn't know how to put a goddam paper in a file or on a desk.
FUCK.
Sincerely,
M
Look, I understand that you're just a crappy community college and nobody expects much of you, your students, or your faculty. But if you could maybe train your fucking faculty and staff to quit losing my goddamn homework that would be hell of awesome.
Let's start with my chemistry labs - worth 120 points - that were slipped under the door of the science department office but never made it to my professor's desk. 120 fucking points. I'm likely going to have to pay $200 to take the course over because it's a lab credit course and no grade can be given without the labs.
Today I got an email from my history professor. She never got my final exam, which I took way the hell back on the 12th. I handed it in at the little computer lab area where you go to take tests for online classes, but she never got it. How goddam fucking hard is it to hand some fucking papers over to the people to whom they belong?
Fuck you, crappy community college. One more year of your bullshit and then I'm gone, left only with my nearly worthless diploma and $10,000 in debt, and the lesson learned that I should always make copies of everything I ever hand in, ever, because somewhere along the line there's some fuckwit who doesn't know how to put a goddam paper in a file or on a desk.
FUCK.
Sincerely,
M
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Dear you damn kids,
Dear the teenagers who would not get the fuck out of the way on the el platform today,
Look, I didn't mean to push you. Honestly, I didn't, but the train was RIGHT THERE and you were SAUNTERING. I said, "Excuse me, please, excuse me, I'm trying to catch the train," and you didn't even turn around. So yeah, I pushed you the fuck out of the way.
Not hard, though. Don't the rest of you go judging me. Just enough to get her the fuck out of the way. She had to wait for the rest of her class (on their way to Millenium Park, from what I gathered when I was waiting for them to figure out how to buy el cards so I could buy my el card), so she didn't need to get on that el anyhow.
Damn kids today.
Sincerely,
M
Look, I didn't mean to push you. Honestly, I didn't, but the train was RIGHT THERE and you were SAUNTERING. I said, "Excuse me, please, excuse me, I'm trying to catch the train," and you didn't even turn around. So yeah, I pushed you the fuck out of the way.
Not hard, though. Don't the rest of you go judging me. Just enough to get her the fuck out of the way. She had to wait for the rest of her class (on their way to Millenium Park, from what I gathered when I was waiting for them to figure out how to buy el cards so I could buy my el card), so she didn't need to get on that el anyhow.
Damn kids today.
Sincerely,
M
Monday, May 14, 2007
Personal space!
Dear the group that's here today,
All of you have the same accent, and all of you have the same stench. All of you also walk uncomfortably close to me when I'm walking you down to the computer room. Feel free to bathe and in the future, remember: three feet of personal space.
Dear the elderly lady at the stoplight on Washington this morning,
When I was revving my engine during the red light, I wasn't challenging you to a race. I'm having some acceleration issues with my car, and it tends to work better if I rev it right before the light changes to green. I honestly wasn't trying to throw down with you.
But damn! You took off from that line like we were racin' for pink slips! Well played!
Dear my chemistry prof,
You bitch. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Thanks for nothing!
Sincerely,
M
All of you have the same accent, and all of you have the same stench. All of you also walk uncomfortably close to me when I'm walking you down to the computer room. Feel free to bathe and in the future, remember: three feet of personal space.
Dear the elderly lady at the stoplight on Washington this morning,
When I was revving my engine during the red light, I wasn't challenging you to a race. I'm having some acceleration issues with my car, and it tends to work better if I rev it right before the light changes to green. I honestly wasn't trying to throw down with you.
But damn! You took off from that line like we were racin' for pink slips! Well played!
Dear my chemistry prof,
You bitch. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Thanks for nothing!
Sincerely,
M
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Dear egotistical alcoholic,
Dear my mom's boss,
You fucker. You told me I wouldn't have to fix your book until the end of May, after my finals. Then, out of nowhere, you drop it in my lap the first week of finals, which also happens to be my week off. You jackass. Get your shit together! You're ruining my vacation, my finals, my sanity, and my relationship with my mom.
I'm never working for you again. You are unstable, egotistical, and incredibly boring. You don't pay me enough to fix your books. I'm the only one of my mom's kids who has never asked you for help financially, so you can feel free to fuck right off. My siblings can suck up to you, but I pay my own fucking bills and I don't need your stress. I swore to myself I was done dealing with alcoholics years ago, and you sir are no longer an exception.
The only thing keeping me from calling you right now and telling you about yourself is my mom. I love her dearly, and if you don't quit treating her like shit you'll find a slew of representatives from the IRS, Bar Association, and OSHA raining down on you like so many pellets of hail.
ps Your wife is probably cheating on you, and you smell like old people.
Sincerely,
M
You fucker. You told me I wouldn't have to fix your book until the end of May, after my finals. Then, out of nowhere, you drop it in my lap the first week of finals, which also happens to be my week off. You jackass. Get your shit together! You're ruining my vacation, my finals, my sanity, and my relationship with my mom.
I'm never working for you again. You are unstable, egotistical, and incredibly boring. You don't pay me enough to fix your books. I'm the only one of my mom's kids who has never asked you for help financially, so you can feel free to fuck right off. My siblings can suck up to you, but I pay my own fucking bills and I don't need your stress. I swore to myself I was done dealing with alcoholics years ago, and you sir are no longer an exception.
The only thing keeping me from calling you right now and telling you about yourself is my mom. I love her dearly, and if you don't quit treating her like shit you'll find a slew of representatives from the IRS, Bar Association, and OSHA raining down on you like so many pellets of hail.
ps Your wife is probably cheating on you, and you smell like old people.
Sincerely,
M
Friday, May 4, 2007
Dear this fucking hotel chain,
(A little background for you, dear reader: I work *at* this hotel, but not *for* the hotel. I work for a separate company that rents out space in this hotel for AV and the business center. I am not employed in any way, shape or form by the hotel or the company that owns the hotel.)
Dear this fucking hotel chain,
You are a bunch of fucking idiots. This lady is here, and her mom died yesterday, and she's in town to settle her mom's affairs and make arrangements and all the stuff you have to do when your mom dies. The only hotel she could get was this one. So, the front desk told her about the rewards program offered by your hotel. She came back to use one of the computers in our computer room to sign up for it. And so we get to the first point:
Everywhere else you go, they can sign you up for their rewards program at the counter. Either by getting your name and phone number/email and entering that info into the computer, or by having you fill out a registration form by hand, and having the person behind the counter enter your information for you. Making a customer go find an internet connection to sign up is fucking DUMB. This is all part of customer service. A customer shouldn't have to go out of his or her way to sign up for your fucking frequent customer rewards program. It's almost guaranteed that this will make that person not be a customer in the future.
-Back to the rant-
The woman kept getting an error page when she tried to register. Her confirmation email never came. She was beside herself, rightfully so. Your sign-up process is obnoxious (have to click six or seven different links just for the privilege of getting spammed by you) and to not even have the satisfaction of being DONE with it is enough to annoy anybody. Which brings me to my second point:
Your website blows. It's all in tiny type, the links aren't the same from one page to the next. I'm talking anchor links here - reservations, location, about us, etc - it's hell of difficult to navigate. Fucking obnoxious. This is 2007, get with the fucking internet already.
-Back to the rant-
When your 800 number spells out the hotel name, it is hell of helpful to have the actual numerical number next to it. Nobody wants to be hunting and pecking at the fucking phone trying to spell out your stupid hotel name when they're already pissed off at your web site. Which brings me to my third point:
I was on hold for 16 minutes on your damn phone system. Every 90 seconds or so, after telling me how important I was, the fucking line would ring like I was being put through to somebody. Do you know how disappointing it is, what a cheap fucking shot that is, to make me think I'm being transferred and it turns out I'm just going back to the damn recording? Yes, I know this happens everywhere. But I can't remember the last time I spent 16 minutes on hold. That's quite excessive.
-Back to the rant-
You people suck. I get blamed for all the bullshit around here - no heat, no signs for the meeting rooms, price of parking, all that shit. And now you're making it so that I am completely unable to actively help one of YOUR fucking guests.
Thanks for nothing, assholes.
Sincerely,
M
Dear this fucking hotel chain,
You are a bunch of fucking idiots. This lady is here, and her mom died yesterday, and she's in town to settle her mom's affairs and make arrangements and all the stuff you have to do when your mom dies. The only hotel she could get was this one. So, the front desk told her about the rewards program offered by your hotel. She came back to use one of the computers in our computer room to sign up for it. And so we get to the first point:
Everywhere else you go, they can sign you up for their rewards program at the counter. Either by getting your name and phone number/email and entering that info into the computer, or by having you fill out a registration form by hand, and having the person behind the counter enter your information for you. Making a customer go find an internet connection to sign up is fucking DUMB. This is all part of customer service. A customer shouldn't have to go out of his or her way to sign up for your fucking frequent customer rewards program. It's almost guaranteed that this will make that person not be a customer in the future.
-Back to the rant-
The woman kept getting an error page when she tried to register. Her confirmation email never came. She was beside herself, rightfully so. Your sign-up process is obnoxious (have to click six or seven different links just for the privilege of getting spammed by you) and to not even have the satisfaction of being DONE with it is enough to annoy anybody. Which brings me to my second point:
Your website blows. It's all in tiny type, the links aren't the same from one page to the next. I'm talking anchor links here - reservations, location, about us, etc - it's hell of difficult to navigate. Fucking obnoxious. This is 2007, get with the fucking internet already.
-Back to the rant-
When your 800 number spells out the hotel name, it is hell of helpful to have the actual numerical number next to it. Nobody wants to be hunting and pecking at the fucking phone trying to spell out your stupid hotel name when they're already pissed off at your web site. Which brings me to my third point:
I was on hold for 16 minutes on your damn phone system. Every 90 seconds or so, after telling me how important I was, the fucking line would ring like I was being put through to somebody. Do you know how disappointing it is, what a cheap fucking shot that is, to make me think I'm being transferred and it turns out I'm just going back to the damn recording? Yes, I know this happens everywhere. But I can't remember the last time I spent 16 minutes on hold. That's quite excessive.
-Back to the rant-
You people suck. I get blamed for all the bullshit around here - no heat, no signs for the meeting rooms, price of parking, all that shit. And now you're making it so that I am completely unable to actively help one of YOUR fucking guests.
Thanks for nothing, assholes.
Sincerely,
M
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Dear bold business man,
Dear asshole who was just here (no, not win32k.sys, as it would appear that win32k.sys is always here...this is a different asshole),
Look, the business center opens at 7:00. When you saw me at 6:50 and asked me about the business center, I tried really, really hard to smile and said, "Oh, we usually open at 7:00, but today I can open a few minutes early. I just need to run these reports upstairs, I'll be back downstairs in five minutes, tops."
You agreed, asshole. You agreed that this plan was okay with you. So imagine my suprise, ire and frustration when I came back from taking those reports upstairs to find that you were sitting at my fucking desk fucking with programs on my desktop, and peeking under my desk into my open purse! You are a fucking MORON, you asshole, to a degree so elevated that I can't even find words for it. How dare you just waltz into a private, closed office and just avail yourself of whatever you find there? What if I had run into Gloria, a housekeeper who is always very nice to me, and stopped to chat with her? Would you have availed yourself of my purse as well? Asshole.
Dear the guy who turned me down for a date and let me sit there feeling like a moron for what felt like ages before fessing up that it's because you're in renal failure and not some inherent malfunction that you found in me,
Are you related to some guy who is staying at the hotel where I work? Because I think I just met your dad.
Is it rude to call a guy with renal failure an asshole? Because I would imagine that that subject is kind of sensitive.
Asshole.
Dear the people who keep trying to psychoanalyze me now that I've quit smoking,
I am not meaner than I was last week. I am no more snarky, rude, petulant or obnoxious than I was when I was smoking 30 cigarettes a day. Your continued insistence that I am more rude now that I'm done smoking is kind of insulting, like maybe I wasn't making it clear how much I dislike you back when I was smoking.
Note to self: while it is important to let the people you love know that you love them, it is apparently equally important to let the people you dislike know that you dislike them.
Good to know.
Sincerely,
M
Look, the business center opens at 7:00. When you saw me at 6:50 and asked me about the business center, I tried really, really hard to smile and said, "Oh, we usually open at 7:00, but today I can open a few minutes early. I just need to run these reports upstairs, I'll be back downstairs in five minutes, tops."
You agreed, asshole. You agreed that this plan was okay with you. So imagine my suprise, ire and frustration when I came back from taking those reports upstairs to find that you were sitting at my fucking desk fucking with programs on my desktop, and peeking under my desk into my open purse! You are a fucking MORON, you asshole, to a degree so elevated that I can't even find words for it. How dare you just waltz into a private, closed office and just avail yourself of whatever you find there? What if I had run into Gloria, a housekeeper who is always very nice to me, and stopped to chat with her? Would you have availed yourself of my purse as well? Asshole.
Dear the guy who turned me down for a date and let me sit there feeling like a moron for what felt like ages before fessing up that it's because you're in renal failure and not some inherent malfunction that you found in me,
Are you related to some guy who is staying at the hotel where I work? Because I think I just met your dad.
Is it rude to call a guy with renal failure an asshole? Because I would imagine that that subject is kind of sensitive.
Asshole.
Dear the people who keep trying to psychoanalyze me now that I've quit smoking,
I am not meaner than I was last week. I am no more snarky, rude, petulant or obnoxious than I was when I was smoking 30 cigarettes a day. Your continued insistence that I am more rude now that I'm done smoking is kind of insulting, like maybe I wasn't making it clear how much I dislike you back when I was smoking.
Note to self: while it is important to let the people you love know that you love them, it is apparently equally important to let the people you dislike know that you dislike them.
Good to know.
Sincerely,
M
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Dear Moron,
Dear the moron who was just here,
You little joke about "how much do you charge for stapling?" went without comment because it's a "joke" that I've heard many times before.
However, in light of the sheer quantity of people asking how much we charge for a single staple, my boss and I have decided to charge 10¢ for each staple used. We thank you for your wonderful idea of charging for stapler use, and we hope that you come back later so we can tell you (via your room bill) just how much we appreciate it.
A note to all customers in the future:
If you have some equally lame "joke" that you'd like to use on me, please come to my desk immediately after checking in and lay it on me. Be sure to bring your wallet, though, as I will be charging $25 per "joke." Cash only, no checks, no credit cards, no paypal.
Also please give me information on where you parked your car, make & model, license plate number, etc, so I know which car to cover with breadcrumbs...thus attracting birds, who will cover your car in bird poop to a degree that you will find quite unbelievable. Oh, but you'd better believe it!
Sincerely,
M
You little joke about "how much do you charge for stapling?" went without comment because it's a "joke" that I've heard many times before.
However, in light of the sheer quantity of people asking how much we charge for a single staple, my boss and I have decided to charge 10¢ for each staple used. We thank you for your wonderful idea of charging for stapler use, and we hope that you come back later so we can tell you (via your room bill) just how much we appreciate it.
A note to all customers in the future:
If you have some equally lame "joke" that you'd like to use on me, please come to my desk immediately after checking in and lay it on me. Be sure to bring your wallet, though, as I will be charging $25 per "joke." Cash only, no checks, no credit cards, no paypal.
Also please give me information on where you parked your car, make & model, license plate number, etc, so I know which car to cover with breadcrumbs...thus attracting birds, who will cover your car in bird poop to a degree that you will find quite unbelievable. Oh, but you'd better believe it!
Sincerely,
M
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Dear jackasses,
Dear jackass bikers who were just outside,
Look, I understand that loud pipes save lives. I know you're treated poorly in traffic, being constantly cut off and people almost hitting you and and assholes trying trying to share your lane (that is, the part of the lane that you're currently occupying), and running you off the road and all that. I understand that the only thing keeping some dummy SUV driver on a cell phone from hitting you is that your bike is so damn loud that they can't help but hear you over their favorite pop song.
I get it, I do, I understand.
But who the fuck are the six of you trying to save yourself from when you're parked on a nearly deserted street at 10:30 on a Sunday night? There is NOBODY around. There is NO NEED for you to run and rev your loud fucking engines for ten minutes. I was so close to being asleep, and now I'm more awake right this minute that I have been all day. You sat there taking fucking PICTURES while your bikes are running loud enough that I could feel the vibrations in the floor, and this is an old-ass concrete building that doesn't vibrate easily. You people fucking SUCK. I hope each and every one of you finds yourself blocked in to your next parking space by a fucking Hummer, the driver of which parks like an asshole and makes it impossible for you to just steer around it.
You suck.
Sincerely,
M
Look, I understand that loud pipes save lives. I know you're treated poorly in traffic, being constantly cut off and people almost hitting you and and assholes trying trying to share your lane (that is, the part of the lane that you're currently occupying), and running you off the road and all that. I understand that the only thing keeping some dummy SUV driver on a cell phone from hitting you is that your bike is so damn loud that they can't help but hear you over their favorite pop song.
I get it, I do, I understand.
But who the fuck are the six of you trying to save yourself from when you're parked on a nearly deserted street at 10:30 on a Sunday night? There is NOBODY around. There is NO NEED for you to run and rev your loud fucking engines for ten minutes. I was so close to being asleep, and now I'm more awake right this minute that I have been all day. You sat there taking fucking PICTURES while your bikes are running loud enough that I could feel the vibrations in the floor, and this is an old-ass concrete building that doesn't vibrate easily. You people fucking SUCK. I hope each and every one of you finds yourself blocked in to your next parking space by a fucking Hummer, the driver of which parks like an asshole and makes it impossible for you to just steer around it.
You suck.
Sincerely,
M
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Dear corporate assholes,
Dear corporate assholes,
I'm sick of this. Do you know what the people with Bachelor Degrees who apply for administrative assistant jobs did in college? They drank, they partied, they went on fantastic Spring Break trips. They ranked pretty low in their graduating class. That's why they are applying to sort your mail and fix your mistakes - they can't get a job where they can get their own assistant.
Why not hire me? I drank the whole time those other fuckers were drinking, and I did it like I meant it. I can read, I can type, and my gramma said if you can read you can learn how to do just about anything but sing and paint a picture. And I don't want an assistant. I don't want to climb the corporate fucking ladder. I just want a job where I don't have to put up with a whole new set of morons every day. I'm okay with just dealing with the same morons day in and day out.
I'm only getting an Associate Degree, but damn it all to hell, you bring in one of those low-ranking tarts with the perky boobs and tell us both to do something impressive with powerpoint, and I'll blow that collegiate whore out of the water. Last semester, I was working 50 hours a week, having to take the el an hour and fifteen minutes each way to work, and a cab to class three times a week and I still pulled a 3.2 GPA.
Quit giving me this fucking line about how I have to have a Bachelor Degree to file your fucking reports. Quit telling me that I'm not good enough to shuffle your fucking paperwork. My cleavage is nothing to brag about, but I'll make you look damn fine to your clients.
Fuck you bastards anyhow.
Dear my mom,
There's no way you "accidentally" let that shit slip last night. Get your fucking story straight, this is not a game. This is my life.
While we're at it, take your fucking reiki master and shove her up your ass. I'll put my faith in medicine, thanks, if for no other reason than my insurance plan doesn't cover "new age bullshit jibber jabber."
Sincerely,
M
I'm sick of this. Do you know what the people with Bachelor Degrees who apply for administrative assistant jobs did in college? They drank, they partied, they went on fantastic Spring Break trips. They ranked pretty low in their graduating class. That's why they are applying to sort your mail and fix your mistakes - they can't get a job where they can get their own assistant.
Why not hire me? I drank the whole time those other fuckers were drinking, and I did it like I meant it. I can read, I can type, and my gramma said if you can read you can learn how to do just about anything but sing and paint a picture. And I don't want an assistant. I don't want to climb the corporate fucking ladder. I just want a job where I don't have to put up with a whole new set of morons every day. I'm okay with just dealing with the same morons day in and day out.
I'm only getting an Associate Degree, but damn it all to hell, you bring in one of those low-ranking tarts with the perky boobs and tell us both to do something impressive with powerpoint, and I'll blow that collegiate whore out of the water. Last semester, I was working 50 hours a week, having to take the el an hour and fifteen minutes each way to work, and a cab to class three times a week and I still pulled a 3.2 GPA.
Quit giving me this fucking line about how I have to have a Bachelor Degree to file your fucking reports. Quit telling me that I'm not good enough to shuffle your fucking paperwork. My cleavage is nothing to brag about, but I'll make you look damn fine to your clients.
Fuck you bastards anyhow.
Dear my mom,
There's no way you "accidentally" let that shit slip last night. Get your fucking story straight, this is not a game. This is my life.
While we're at it, take your fucking reiki master and shove her up your ass. I'll put my faith in medicine, thanks, if for no other reason than my insurance plan doesn't cover "new age bullshit jibber jabber."
Sincerely,
M
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Dear Crazy Bitch,
Dear crazy bitch who was just here to get boarding passes,
I'm sure our clock that displays what time it is in Paris is wrong. I honestly don't give a shit, as I've never been to Paris and don't plan to go any time soon. People who stand around in Chicago waiting to get a boarding pass to go back to Cleveland and complain about shit like a clock that doesn't apply to their timezone are morons. Count yourself in, crazy bitch.
When I say "printing of boarding passes is complimentary," it actually IS grammatically correct. The "is" is referring to the subject, "printing," not "boarding passes." Had I said "the boarding passes is free," (minus the words "printing" and "of"), you would have been hell of right in correcting me. However, I have been editing manuscripts, term papers, etc since I was seven years old, and I know wtf I am talking about, crazy bitch.
Also, when I say "No, ma'am, we don't charge for that," a polite, "No! Really?" is okay. To say it four fucking times is quite a bit out of control. You need to settle down!
I hope your flight is grounded for weather today, crazy lady. I hope it's grounded for weather and you are stuck in the airport and a sweaty man with uncontrollable bowels seems to sit down next to you where ever you go.
Holy shit, you make me want to throw things.
Sincerely,
M
I'm sure our clock that displays what time it is in Paris is wrong. I honestly don't give a shit, as I've never been to Paris and don't plan to go any time soon. People who stand around in Chicago waiting to get a boarding pass to go back to Cleveland and complain about shit like a clock that doesn't apply to their timezone are morons. Count yourself in, crazy bitch.
When I say "printing of boarding passes is complimentary," it actually IS grammatically correct. The "is" is referring to the subject, "printing," not "boarding passes." Had I said "the boarding passes is free," (minus the words "printing" and "of"), you would have been hell of right in correcting me. However, I have been editing manuscripts, term papers, etc since I was seven years old, and I know wtf I am talking about, crazy bitch.
Also, when I say "No, ma'am, we don't charge for that," a polite, "No! Really?" is okay. To say it four fucking times is quite a bit out of control. You need to settle down!
I hope your flight is grounded for weather today, crazy lady. I hope it's grounded for weather and you are stuck in the airport and a sweaty man with uncontrollable bowels seems to sit down next to you where ever you go.
Holy shit, you make me want to throw things.
Sincerely,
M
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