In which I have reached previously unknown levels of fuckit

middle-finger-poster-flag-6185-pYesterday at work: a $2,000 return on an insanely slow day.  I have like eight sales but the biggest one is for less than a hundred and fifty dollars so it doesn’t amount to shit.

Today at work: a $4,000 return, and I still haven’t dug myself out of yesterday’s hole, plus it’s Tuesday, so there’s two trucks in the morning and then lots and lots of phone calls to people whose stuff has arrived and then spending the rest of the day answering the phone and in a progressively worse and worse mood because you’re leaving detailed messages for these fuckwits and they’re calling without listening to their fucking voicemail and saying things like “Uh, yeah, I got a call from this number?” and then trailing off.

LISTEN. TO. YOUR. FUCKING. VOICEMAIL. YOU. FUCKING. CRETIN.

I’m gonna go off on somebody sooner or later, goddammit.  If I answer the phone and say “Thanks for calling <furniture store>, this is Luther, may I help you?” then maybe the phone call might be about furniture?  Did you even hear that, moron?

And then I got home and had an angry letter from the Illinois Department of Revenue wondering why I hadn’t filed my taxes in September.  Because I haven’t set foot in Illinois since July, maybe?  Or earned any income?  And don’t taxes get filed in April, and what is this September shit?  That could be why.

OH SHIT RIGHT also half the staff got written up because the store had too few prospects last month.  That was fun too!

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