something witty

[dragonlady7]

So I composed a very witty, pithy, and yet poignant post whilst driving myself home. It was in epistolary fashion and was quite amusing.
i don't remember a bit of it.

Sad fragments that are the best approximation of it I can make:

Dear God,
I know I don't talk to you much. i've always figured asking you for stuff was kind of moot: you know everything, including what I want, and so you'll give it to me if you want me to have it, whether I ask or not. Asking you would just be sort of bratty. So I generally don't.
But I do have one request that I think could never be articulated clearly enough:
Please, please, for the greater good, will you please, please smite my manager? He needs it. Badly.
Thanks,
Me.

Dear Lady Who Yelled At Me For Not Having Ice Cream In My Restaurant,
When I said, "unfortunately it's not up to me to decide what we offer," I meant it, and your answer "everyone says that" was mostly just confusing. Really, truly, honestly: I am a waitress. It is not up to me whether my restaurant serves ice cream. If I had the power to dictate what was on the menu, don't you think it would suck a bit less? I do have a stake in this.
So you taking out your frustration at the plane being late on me was really about the most counterproductive thing you could've done under the circumstances.
So fuck you. I'd tell you to grow up, but I think that was your granddaughter who was with you: if you've got a grandchild, you're probably running out of time in which to grow up. Instead I reiterate: Fuck you.
Sincerely,
Me.

Dear the Half Dozen People Who All Asked "Is That Menu Posted There Your Only Menu?",
No.
That's not the only menu. I have a secret menu full of awesome other things, besides that lame little menu. It's got everything you could ever want. And I'm NOT GIVING IT TO YOU, because I am a shitty waitress and want you to be unhappy so I don't make any tips. See, I hate money. And I hate making people happy. I want you to SUFFER. And I want to stay poor.
Sincerely,
Me.
P.S. I'm fucking with you. No, that's really the only menu. It would be retarded to post a menu that wasn't actually what the kitchen served. (I just figured that if you're so stupid you have to ask me in the first place, you're probably too stupid to appreciate the sarcasm in the paragraph above. So I figured I'd better clarify.)





Can you BELIEVE it's only the Monday-equivalent in my work week? Jesus, I'm going to kill somebody before the week's out. No fucking way am I going to make it. AUGHHHHH.

Comments

[debg.livejournal.com]

Aw, jeez. You seem to have had every asshat on the fucking planet in your workspace today.

May it ease up exponentially.

[dragonlady7.livejournal.com]

As of yet I haven't decided whether it's heartening or frightening that today's cross-section of idiots was actually pretty representative. They're always like that. It's just that some days I can manage not to mind.
Of late, Management's aggressive insistence on being moronic and denying me various things I need to do my job in a reasonable and rewarding fashion has made it much harder for me to let the idiocy bead up and roll off like usual. I mean really; all humans are idiots. I myself am an idiot with alarming frequency. It's only because I'm there every day that it's perfectly obvious to me that the pathetic menu on the wall really truly is all that we offer; obviously if so many people every day feel the need to ask whether it is, it must not be obvious enough for everybody. So really I should be more patient. But, at the moment, the murderous rage over the managers having taken away all my money shifts is rather impeding my usual sense of perspective on others' idiocy.

[http://users.livejournal.com/ganga_/]

Quote blond woman working at a check-in counter in JFK, having just quietly and calmly taken the verbal abuse of the century from a frustrated foreigner with lost luggage:

"Right now, there's two people in the whole world who cares about your well-being. One of them is losing interest."