Let me start out by calmly explaining my day to you:
Okay. Now that’s settled, I’d like to say that these are extremely FIRST WORLD type problems and I honestly have no right to be upset, but I’m gonna be anyway because today I want to be selfish.
The phones are ringing off the freaking hook . Seriously, the MOMENT I walked in the door today the phone rang. And the calls aren’t from anyone important. They’re from asshole (pardon my French, but really. They are assholes. So there.) people from the “phone company” wanting to speak to “the person who is in charge of the phone lines” because they’re from CenturyLink and want to “save us money.” Well SHOVE IT, we don’t USE your phone service, as stated ON MY TELEPHONE WHERE IT SAYS TEL-WEST.
So I told him I was in charge of the phone lines. He totally didn’t believe me. How dare he not believe me? How dare he not accept my small-child voice as that of a business owner? How daaaaare he question my authority as a
receptionist business owner?! The sneaky, rude ninny (I’m trying to censor myself, or there would be way too many Fs all over this page. Yeah, I’d say flibberflabber. But my dad reads this). Anyway, he totally didn’t believe me but was like “blahhblahblah” and I didn’t pay attention because my head was catching fire from rage, and finally I said, “We get calls from you all the time and we don’t have phone service through you, so could you please take us off your list or something?” Yeah, I said “or something.” I’m really authoritative. He said, “I just need to confirm that you are the person in charge of the ph–” and I hung up, like the strong willed woman I am.
And then I yelled about it to Scott, my co-worker. And he laughed. He doesn’t understand how difficult my job is.
Then, someone texted me and tried to force me to ask for pictures of their diddlydingums (I’ve never used that word, oh my goodness what’s happening to me?), so I had to set THAT straight. No, I do not want to see anything under your clothing, you nasty piece of nasty. NASTY! And also, rude. Now I can check “get sexually harassed” off my bucket list, so thanks.
And then, to top off my white-girl problems list, I ordered a BLT downstairs at the coffee shop and the chick put mayonaise on it. Here’s the deal. I expressly chose the BLT because I figured it would only have bacon, lettuce, and tomato on it, as described on the sign under the word “BLT.” There was absolutely no mention of mayo. I have been BLINDSIDED by this mayonaise, and I do not appreciate it. And of course, by then my lunch break was over and I was too tired (lazy) and angry to go down and ask for a new one. Also, I never tell people when they make my order wrong, which is dumb and I need to learn how because I’m an adult and my goodness what is my problem? I can’t even tell people I don’t want something. Unless it’s pictures of their nether regions, because that is a big no no and I ain’t down with that.
I tried to eat the sandwich with the mayo, but honestly, I kinda wanted to die. So I didn’t eat it. I will give it to a homeless man or something. With my luck, he won’t like mayo either, and he’ll throw it at my face.