Justifiable Homicide. The brutal killing – sometimes after appropriate torture – of people who richly deserve it. Case in point: customer service reps who fuck something up, then want to argue about it instead of saying I’m sorry sir, I’ll get it fixed. The word service is, theoretically, in there for a reason. You’d think. […]
Justifiable Homicide.
The brutal killing – sometimes after appropriate torture – of people who richly deserve it.
Case in point: customer service reps who fuck something up, then want to argue about it instead of saying I’m sorry sir, I’ll get it fixed.
The word service is, theoretically, in there for a reason. You’d think. Evidently not.
I actually told a woman who works for Wells Fargo “Your email management skills are not my problem.” But you know, in my head her hot red blood was dripping down my arm as I held her tender white throat in one hand, and drew a straight razor slowly across her neck, carving her a second smile.
So what I said? Pretty nice, all things considered.
Pardon me, I need to look for someone to hurt…
Rip their hearts out and stomp on their bodies. Tell them “You’d look SO much better with blood from your eyesockets instead of drool from your stupidity.”
I work customer support. It’s what I do day-to-day. If they fucked it up, they SHOULD fix it, and if they can’t fix it, they need to say that too and offer some relief. You can say you’re sorry until you’re blue in the face, but when it comes to that wasting of MY time? Fuck you. I’ll rip your heart out and stomp your bloody corpse into the loam.
Oh. Sorry. 4th century warrior fantasy. But yeah, I can completely COMPLETELY agree.
Here’s my favorite…
“Your mother should have eaten you while your bones were still soft.”
Say it with a big smile.
I’m surrounded by these kind of fucktards all day long (not from my company, another in the building).
Don’t get me started on fast food.
A sad thing happened today: I couldn’t get to your blog at my place of employment. You’ve been categorized as–you’ll love this–pornography.
*wibble* When you talk about BLOOD like that…
…excuse me, I have to go restring my corset.
Julie, my dear, my whole life is pornography.
Ella, let me get that for you. Or, really, I mean, off of you.
As a customer service type personage myself, I get very quickly pissed off when dealing with the asshattery of incompetent customer service people. I really do NOT care WHY the effing doomahickey didn’t get done, just DOOOOOOO IT and shut the fuck up about it.
Did you know that they will put you in solitary confinement and not let you mix with the general prison population if you kill 10 or more people? I keep a running list just in case of a really bad day. I don’t wanna have to deal with all those fucking psychos in prison – I need some damn alone time!!!
Also, is it wrong that it totally turned me on reading about the blood and violence??? *innocent look*
As Tori Amos once said, there are too many stars. And not enough sky.