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socks of gloom

i’m wearing my fun socks today, but it doesn’t seem to be making its impact.  if any of you have watched the TV series BONES, you know that FBI agent Sealy Booth wears funky socks as his way of being unique and special in a world of hum-drumminess.  his way of ‘sticking it to the man’, i guess.  or his way of declaring his individualism.  and if you watch Storage Wars, you know that Barry (I LOVE YOU BARRY!) wears his ‘lucky’ socks, hopefully to have blessings from the picking gods.

but for me, the magical, stripey, Monster High socks that i am wearing are not bringing me the anticipated magical stripey day.  despite their cuteness, and their roller-derbiness, my customers are still yelling at me, demanding, and pushy.  i’ve heard bad news today, like about the girl that has been missing for 8 days, or the man that was dead for 2 years without anyone noticing.

boo.

tomorrow i’m coming in barefoot.

 

customer comment box

I wish my DVR remote worked on people.

If I could just hit the pause button and explain why and what, then maybe the light would go on in some of these dark attics that are clearly full of cobwebs and mice droppings where there should be a functioning brain.

Not that I don’t appreciate. I understand, you see, that this guy that yelled at me today is actually TRYING to do the right thing. He wants to resolve a problem, or fix something he thinks is wrong. Gotcha. But the way he’s going about this is what we call “ass backwards”. Which … I don’t know what that means. His bottom is where his junk should be. His butt is upside down. I don’t know, point is, he’s one of those guys that will spend $40.00 worth of gas driving around town, store to store, to find the one place that still has an item in stock he can use his “save-a-dollar” coupon for. YAY! I SAVED A DOLLAR!

He’s so busy yelling at me, telling me what I need to do to fix this problem, questioning whether I really care at all about my job, and expressing how easy it is to fix this situation that he doesn’t notice I’ve actually walked away and begun knitting a death mask for him, because I’m thinking he may never get another breath of air in during this long tirade. He may expire right here at my terminal. Ha ha. My Terminal terminal. Awesome. Not that I want him to die, don’t be ridiculous. But I am interested in his immediate silence, so that would be one of the options.

If I could hit a pause button – though with this guy I’m sure it wouldn’t work, he’d find a way to keep moving his mouth and gesturing at me even if he was muted, paused or being deleted – maybe I could explain that there are procedures, or protocol, or heck even something called practicality involved. It sometimes costs more in man hours to fix some little thing than the little thing is actually worth. But because Mr. Mouth’s verbal diarrhea problem is impeding his ability to hear and reason, he will never know this.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a people DVR remote with pause button. So maybe if I held up cue cards, like the ones they use in silent films:

“NO”

“THAT’S NOT HOW WE DO IT HERE”

“NICE TRY, BUT YOU ARE STUPID”

“THAT ISN’T A POLITE FINGER”

“PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME BOXES ON MY DESK THAT LOOK LIKE THEY MIGHT BE A BOMB”

“MY SUPERVISOR’S NUMBER IS…”