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Archive for the ‘Communication’ Category

I am sick to death of AT&T and their ‘low prices’ on DSL! The SOB’s advertise it for 14.99 a month, but, low and behold, every single time I call to them to ask about it, the suckers ALWAYS say, “This is not available in your area.” ARG

I pay 39.99 for AT&T DSL. The SAME DSL they offer ‘new customers’ for 14.99 a month! What the hell’s the deal? I am sick to death of ‘new customers’ getting all the ‘deals’. And I am sick to death of being told the offer is ‘not available’ in my area. WTF? What area IS this DSL available in – Siberia? And why do people who have absolutely NO LOYALTY to the company get the good deals? GRRRRR

AT&T has me, though, and they know it. If I don’t use their DSL service, I have to use dial-up, because no one else offers DSL where I live. (I live 3/4 of a mile out of town and that’s too far!) They had better be glad, though, because if there WERE other services available, I’d tell them, “KISS MY WHITE ASS!!!!”

Boss Brat

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So, like, wow, you have a myspace.

It just warms my heart to have you send me links to it, where I can see photos of you in various poses, pouting and finally being the fabulous international model you always hoped you would be.

And the blurb about you! The ingenuity! You say all these things that are witty and insightful, notions about life and pop culture, interspersed with things you love that make you somehow more unique and interesting than the 2 million plus other fools on the web right now. It is as though you are pointing that telescope right back at yourself, not taking yourself too seriously, when really you are just trying desperately to be cool so that you can get 15 more people to be your “friend” and litter your page with their equally inane comments on life and how hot your hair is right now.

Don’t forget to include a few well-chosen videos of yourself doing things and laughing, so that people will know how much fun you are to have around. And most importantly, have a music player that gives the website visitor no choice, but blasts out a song at high volume. It is akin to aural rape. It is downright rude.

After all your efforts to make yourself appealing, individual and hipster on your little slice of the interweb, you just come across as self-obsessed, self-absorbed, over-rated, desperately unfunny, shallow and – terribly sorry to say this – average.

Enjoy your mediocrity!

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Dear Stupid Cashier at the Clothing Store,

I know you don’t remember me, seeing as it’s been 6 months since the last time I entered your store, can you blame me?! Last time I was there you tried to make small talk (which I hate enough as it is) and I had to, very politely, explain that I was going to be late for work if you continued with your sob story about how you are just working here temporarily to make some extra cash and they don’t pay you enough, on top of that they keep moving you from location to location and blah, blah, blah…

You must have mistakenly thought that I was inviting you to continue our (and by “our” I mean “your”) small talk, just on a different subject. WRONG! Now, when you asked me where I worked I didn’t know what hell was going to be unleashed when I answered, if I had known I would have said something like “the morgue” just to keep you silent. “I am a salesperson at the local dealership”, I told you. Then it began. I could see it as soon as the words left my mouth, your eyes got real big and the “OOOOOOOHH” that formed on your lips indicated that I must’ve sparked a memory that I SO wish I could’ve left hidden away in the very dark corners for your teeny weeny brain.

You start rattling off some random question about how much it would cost me to have an extra key made for your 2005 Toyota Rav4 because you let your best friend borrow your car and his 4 year old son swallowed the key. My smile (and I say smile, but really I mean evil death stare with a grin that could kill) must have interrupted your story. I smile, not because I think you’re cute, nice, funny, smart and definitely not because I am enjoying our conversation (or your company for that matter). I smile because right now I am imagining myself reaching my arm out as far as possible and bitch-slapping you across the damn face.

I WANT to tell you to go kill yourself and how much I despise “your kind” but instead I contain myself, give you the number to call and demand that you ask for yourself. This must’ve made you very sad because you finally decided to shut the hell up, give me my merchandise, and let me go on along my merry way. You obviously missed the part where I said I was a SALESPERSON not a CUSTOMER SERVICE GRUNT RESPONSIBLE FOR MEMORIZING EVERY PRICE FOR EVERY MINISCULE ITEM IN THE ENTIRE DEALERSHIP just in case I run into some curious bimbo that’s too lazy to call and find out themselves. Give me a break lady.

Note to self: next time someone asks where you work, lie, just down right lie.

Very sincerely,

The rude annoying customer that hates your guts

P.S. Thanks for making me late to work, by the way.

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Dear Cell Phone Company,

In the next few days you will be receiving a package from me containing the
remnants of my cell phone. You see, I ran over it with my car today and
thought you would appreciate the pieces. Please feel free to place them in
whatever uncomfortable orifice you feel is most appropriate at the time.

At last, I’ve reached the frayed end of my very short patience with your lack
of competency in the technological advancement department. I realize that
my apartment is located over a direct portal to the underworld, but I should
not have to turn into a Verizon commercial every time I need to make a call.
I grow weary of having to stand in one particular corner of one particular
room, stand on one leg, raise my arm over my head, on the peak of the full
moon and keep the antenna at a 45 degree angle at all times. And now it is
not only my apartment, but the grocery store, the mall, the interstate, the
bar, and apparently the drycleaners.

People are beginning to talk about my screaming into the phone. “Do you think it’s turned on?” They whisper. “Perhaps we should call the police?” Is this your not so subtle way of
telling me that I should go back to a landline or that I talk on the phone
too much? That’s a little passive aggressive, if you ask me. My mother
would be proud of your tactics, but I’m not amused. So, since you find no
fault with your little piece of slave-labor-assembled, imported plastic and
mysterious alloy piece of crap I am returning it to you.

Don’t bother trying to reach me. I’m currently on the phone with Hell to arrange for a
better service plan.

Sincerely,
Can You Hear Me?

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Does tardiness somehow lessen IQ?

How is it that people, ostensibly SMART people, can apparently be completely and utterly incapable of calculating their transit time in order to arrive somewhere AT THE APPOINTED TIME?

I mean honestly, if an iPod-listening, frowning and non-watch wearing teenager can get himself, his hair and his too-baggy pants into a community meeting on time, how is it that a double-Masters PhD like you can’t even get to a client meeting on time, when that client comes from a culture where PUNCTUALITY IS A MUST?

Or why can’t you, the software uber-geek, used to working insane hours to meet an arbitrary project deadline which even you deride, can’t get his sorry ass across town to meet the supposedly most important person in your life ON TIME?

Let me be clear:

1) Making others wait because you can’t get yourself organized to arrive on time IS NOT OK. It shows a complete lack of respect for their time.

2) If you can get an MS or PhD, you can get the concept of transit time. Until we have beam-me-up-Scotty technology, you DO need to take this into account when planning your movements. DO IT. Constantly arriving late doesn’t make you look busy and important, it makes you look stupid.

3) Calling 5 minutes before you’re meant to be somewhere just to say you’re going to be 40 minutes late IS NOT OK. Have you ever considered that maybe the person you’re meeting has just juggled their entire schedule and workload and risked several collisions to make absolutely, positively sure they WOULD be there on time? You didn’t suddenly realize you weren’t going to make it five minutes ago, idiot, you knew that at least 35 minutes ago. Why didn’t you call then, you dumbass? See 2) above.

3) Repeating 3) over and over doesn’t make it any less annoying or inconsiderate, it makes it MORE so.

Tardiness is for morons, my friends. Don’t make think of you as one.

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Lindy, a loyal FedEx customer 

I’d like to give a big ol’ shout out to UPS!

It starts with “FUCK” and ends with “YOU.” Wait, well I guess that would be the entire thing. FUCK YOU!! There, don’t I feel better.

This is the SECOND time in a row that I have used thier online package pick-up and deliver service (at work). And for the second time IN A ROW no truck has shown up.

I called this morning to see wtf and I followed my usual rule of being polite and cheerful because I know that it’s not the fault of the lady on the phone. I calmly and professionally explained that we were supposed to have a truck come yesterday, one never showed up and that I needed some assistance in getting one here.

The lady on the phone then proceeded to tell me that my package had already been picked up. Gee. Ummmmmm, well that’s funny because I’m LOOKING AT IT RIGHT NOW! But I know she was reading from a screen telling her so. So I politely informed her once again that no, I’m sorry it’s still here.

At this point this bitch (why yes, she is a bitch now, not a lady) proceeded to give me a lecture about being careful when we put multiple packages out on the dock because it can confuse the driver and they might take the wrong one – which she is sure happened yesterday.

What? WHAT THE FUCK??? I only had ONE FUCKING PACKAGE in the first place you SKANK! And if I DID have more than one package those fuckers JOB is to differentiate between package A and B. Gosh OH NO!!! What if there is a package C!!! What will we DO?!?! The sky will fall!!!

No! You dumb bitch. Those drivers do a damn good job, they can figure this shit out just fine thank-you, it’s your company’s STOOOPID fucking worthless website that fucks things up. Your website that didn’t forget to CHARGE us even though it was never going to send a truck.

So FUCK YOU and your panty-waste, whored-out, syphilitic website!

Rantasaurus Says: One time I tried to send a T-Rex egg UPS. It hatched in transit and now I’m blacklisted. So be thankful, Lindy. Thankful!

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Stephanie, not an Oprah fan, I’d take it

Was it really necessary to cry for three days when I shaved my head at age 17? Did you have to be all dramatic when every I expressed a teeny, tiny individual impulse? Well, screw that I guess. I learned how to hide my freak flag. It is a skill that serves me well.

And to this day, you still don’t understand me. You don’t know my hopes and dreams. Heck, you don’t even know my goddamn JOB! You truly suck because of this. And I know I should be all, ‘you did the best you could’ and all ‘Oprah vagina forgiveness’ about it. But, no. I still think it sucks when you can’t get your self past the tattoos to see the glory of me. Dumbass.

But lets try a tiny step here. I am NOT a physicians assistant. I am a PSYCHIATRIC NURSE PRACTITIONER.

Big difference between the two. Just like us.

I still love you though. Your grand-kids love you more. See you next week.

Rantasaurus Says: Steph, I get you. I get you. When Mr. Perfect Dumb Billasaurus was off stomping skulls and making Mamasaurus proud, I was reading in the corner, learning Milton, Thoreau. Who do you think got the Caveasaurus when Mama passed away?

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