What a fucking ARSE of a week, and it's only Tuesday.
I don't actually think I'm capable of job satisfaction. I gain employment, enjoy it briefly, then concentrate with a ruthless passion on all the annoying aspects, almost relishing the anger and self-righteous indignation that boils up inside me when something happens.
Such as the phones ringing. Those fucking fucking phones.
I work in a small wholesalers, selling goods to the general public, or 'Cunts', as I like to call them. They walk in from time to time, unannounced and often anonymous, approaching our desks saying things like
And they expect us to drop everything, as if we've been doing nothing but wait for their joyous arrival. God help you if they're miserable or believe that 'Customer is always right' bullshit. No, you're not always right. You're always turning up when it's least convenient.
Some of them are physically incapable of saying Please or Thank You too. Many have strong, indecipherable accents (mainly the ones who are physically incapable of saying Please or Thank You, oddly enough). Some can't even speak English and expect us to be fluent Them speakers.
That's who comes into our shop.
Meanwhile, all day, the phones ring. We have one telephone number and four phones. My boss's phone rings first, 3 or 4 times. If he's busy, the call will divert to my phone. If I can't answer it, it diverts to my oft absent colleague's desk. The fourth and final phone ring is the Devil's ringtone. It is not like the others. It is a shrill alarm that screams 'Ignoring me, eh? Well FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU IN THE EAR!!!!!!!!'
That one's particularly annoying, especially if you're on another call when it rings. Or if a customer's walked in to waste your time on something they're ultimately not going to buy.
Sometimes, strange things happen. Like silence for ten minutes. Then three calls at once. That's really annoying. Then there are the other trivialities such as not having a lunchbreak in a year and a half..
We sell and deliver all sorts of goods to many people. Don't phone me and say 'I'd like my items.' I don't know what your fucking items are, you dribbling retard. Yes, I can look them up but there's a two-fold problem here. Firstly, I am not currently in your customer records eagerly anticipating your call. I am always in the MIDDLE OF SOMETHING ELSE, using the same computerised sys... oh fuck it, I'll just drop what I'm doing, shall I?
And secondly, typing 'IRRITATING CUNTSTOMER' into the computer does not magically throw up the item you're after. For that I will have to go invoice by invoice through everything you've ever had 'til we establish what it is.
It is the number one complete waste of my time. Once, I'll allow, but every fucking time with the 'Tell me what it is I order off you again?' Just KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IT IS YOU WANT, YOU UTTER ABORTION.
I think I may be clinically unemployable.