I'm sure that hour eight of work with a hamster shoved far up your sphincter is loaded with stress but that is no excuse to target me with an arsenal of bitchy looks and condescending self-important remarks that aren't even correct. Just because you are "Assistant Manager Since 1997" does not make it okay to laugh and tell me my disc needs formatting (when it doesn't), then insisting on doing it for me, at forty cents per minute on the PC Design Station.
I'm sure you are correct that the cardstock I brought in for the business cards will not print even though I have successfully placed the very same order on the same cardstock six times since October.
Thanks also for taking the company credit card out of my hand and running it through the customer card machine like I'm such a moron that I can't read which way the strip should face. Finally, thank you for checking my ID after looking at the company card as if you really expected my driver's license to read "Mutual Benefits, Inc." Thanks, then, for looking the company up in the phone book because you didn't trust me to tell you the company's correct phone number and calling my boss to make sure my purchase of MUTUAL BENEFITS BUSINESS CARDS was not fraudulent. I see now why you are in a position of authority.
Go Fuck Yourself,
Mutual Benefits Trent
PS- I really appreciated your saying "Have a good night" when I left. That bit of irony was the only fodder for a smile I'd felt in an hour and a half.
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