Wednesday, August 22, 2001

Has anyone heard the new Ben Folds song yet? Rocking the Suburbs? This is the one where in the middle of the song, he sings "And I just want to scream FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Or, translated on the radio, he sings "And I just want to scream Fbeeeeeeeeeeeeeepk!"

Well, right now, I just want to scream "FUUUUUUUUCK!"

What time is it? Ten thirty? Ten thirty and I've already had the shittiest day. I thought I handled stress well, but you know, that really isn't true, because I'm breaking out to the point I look like the before picture in a Noxema commercial. Oh yeah, and quitting smoking? So long to that. This job is so fucking stressful and it's not even a hard job. It's the people, mainly my boss. Jesus Christ! All of my nerves are standing on edge. You know, I am probably the best reservationists they have there. He said it himself yesterday when USAA came to visit, that I was one of the leaders in the department and I'd only been there ten months and then I get a lecture this morning after staff meeting, my MOST favorite friggin' day of the week, about how I'm not servicing customers well. Well, one customer in particular who thinks I'm her personal assistant or something. She's from New York, number one, which should probably clue you in, she's single and she's going to Thailand with us and she's so fucking demanding. She called my boss at 09:30 last night (I have no clue how) and complained she had been trying to get a hold of me for three days. Let's try to figure out how, shall we? Email has been down since Monday, so I haven't recieved any email all week, which is a royal pain in the ass. And she hasn't called because, good God, I would have known it because she won't talk to anyone BUT me in res anyway. She won't even go in my voicemail, I have to hang up with whomever I may be talking to at that moment and talk to her. Drop everything and talk to her. And when I talk to her, we're on the phone for at least an hour, regardless of what might be going on in the office that day, regardless of the hour. But, whenever we hang up the phone, she's always nice as pie, telling me how much she appreciates me and blah blah blah. She's a pain, but she's a nice lady and I don't really mind her at all, really. She's a demanding woman from New York. I told my boss I couldn't believe she actually talked to him, that she didn't ask for my home number. I don't know why I'm saying all this because no one who's reading this has no clue what I'm talking about, I just have to get it all out.

So, to recap:


It's almost ten thirty. I better get going.

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