Tuesday, November 13, 2007

All this talk of Blood & Oil, is the cause of all my hating

...You are working at the video game store and ask me if I’m excited about the new “Mario galaxy” game coming out next month. Do I look like the type of person that would be excited about a new video game? I didn’t realize the attire of business suit translated to computer geek, nor did I realize that 30 year olds still play children’s games. So please sir, I’ll take my Guitar Hero III and be one my way; on my way to hate you.

...You immediately try to find fault and discredit a report presentation I’m giving to you, the second I speak. I don’t care that you’re the president of the company, give me at 30 seconds to make my point, but no, this is how you get the upper hand, you put people on the defensive from the get go to take control, I know your game. Just because you look like Statler and Waldorf from the muppets doesn’t give you the right to be a dick, but it does give me the right to hate you.

...You are the person that dials the wrong number, my office number, daily then hangs up. How can you possibly get the same number you are dialing wrong, every single day? Do you even look at what you’re dialing? I know who you are, it’s called caller ID, I’m going to start doing that to you and see what you think about it and then I’ll see what I can hate you about.

...You enter the elevator and say the number of the floor to which you are going. Well apparently I look like I work here don’t I. I didn’t realize they elevator men in non doorman buildings or at all for that matter, they only exist in bad Julia Roberts movies. You didn’t even give me the chance to say what floor you going to, because seeing as I’m standing in front of the buttons, yes I would have been nice, but now that you ASSumed, I can only hate you.

...You are this guy Michael that had my office number before me and apparently gave it out to every telemarketer in existence. I spend half my day picking up the phone, then hanging it right back up, who the fuck signs up for this shit or gives their number out so willy nilly, oh right it’s a work number, a work at which you are no longer employed, a work at which I hate you.

...You pronounce Missouri as Missoura. I know you are the same people that pronounce Louisville as looaville. At what point does the “i” become and “a”? An accent, I understand accents, but this is illiterate, this is retarded and this is hated.

...You are Time Warner Cable. You come to install my cable but then will not run a wire to the bedroom because we didn’t say that initially when moving in. You then send someone out 2 weeks later to run the wire who shows up at 10:30 at night. The wire to bedroom however, gets no reception and of course he has no cable box. I then have to make another appointment to have someone come and drop off the cable box, for which I have to pay $30, even though I offered to pick up the cable box myself. Back to the other TV in living room with the alleged “great” new technology, the cable box rarely works well, cuts out randomly, again I MUST have a “technician” come to the house to change the boxes, however, the technician never shows up and I’m stuck with hating you.

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