|
The notes are old, they bend, they fold. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
And so do I, to new lows.
Another day at work. When you wake up, and the first thought in your mind is; "Whee, another day of slapping on a smile and slogging through this s**t one more time." Guess that's a sign. Something needs to happen. Maybe I need a new job. Something dastardly and high-paying, with gratuitous amounts of fame. Something with filthy assistants. I wish. Most likely another hellish tech-support job. Hopefully one with looser guidelines on abusing the customers. There's nothing I like more than telling a customer he is ********, and I can't do a damn thing. And neither can my manager.
I smile, and gleefully tap out thir stupidity into the case, while they grow angry in my ear. 99% of the time, it's because they did something ******** stupid. Like.. Decide to reinstall format their system. At home. Without checking their backups first. I giggle happily and tell them that they just ******** themselves out of 4 years of mail. I include the words "dumb ********" in their case notes. They scream and spit all over their telephone. I tell them that we can restore two weeks of mail if they're on a POP server, but I know damn well they are on an exchange server, and we don't do restores for that. Act just helpful enough, and they sit there and piss and moan and blame everyone but themselves. "Well... umm.. my backup wasn't working. It stopped working.. like.. umm.. 6 months ago." Then you should have called us 6 months ago, you living afterbirth. Now, you're ********.
"I can't connect to the internet.. from home. on a weekend. and I have a really important case due on monday!" Then why did you wait until sunday to work on it, ********? No weekend support, especially for unsupportd home setups. "but, it's a billion-dollar account! I demand priority one support!" Firtsly, priority one is for servers, and groups of people over 10 warm bodies. Secondly, I don't care what account it is. don't care if the president himself needs those reports. it's your home, your equipment, you set it up.. I have no obligation or requirement to fix it. "Cisco doesn't work that way, you're just a contractor!" Yeah, I am a contractor.. and guess who sets the rules of my job? Cico, b***h. Wanna talk to my manager? She'll tell you the same thing. You're ********.
On a similar note..
God, I hate people. You're all ******** killing me, one day at a time. Slowly draining the life from my body and mind. Dirty ********. You don't listen, you never learn, and you always do the most asinine, stupid, ******** things possible. Then you bludgeon each other to death with your goddamn opinions because you can't be bothered to ******** think for yourselves. You can't be bothered to listen to fact and reason and truth. You just cram your assumptions and heresay and opinions and bullshit into other peoples lives, like it's a ******** cure. Because you wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, rationally.. if you didn't like this, wouldn't you have ******** done something about it by now? But, no. People really do seem to enjoy getting ******** by each other in every way possible, whether they asked for it or not. Because you have to be right. You have to be agreed with. People have to love you. You have to be doing this for approval.
******** approval. ******** beeing agreed with. People agree with trite, pedantic, soothing lies. They agree with spare change, crap TV, and a b*****b on friday nights. They don't agree with making your own goddamn decisions, not buying into the bullshit that television spews like so much vomit in an alley. They don't agree with hard lives that are fought for and earned with blood and bruises and scars. They don't agree with experience born and bred in the worst situations. It frightens them, and they cower and hide like scared puppies. They scurry and run, and duck behind lies and bullshit and pathetic excuses for their actions.
And it's ******** killing me.
Because moony reminded me..
Gayboi photos!
yes, at long last, you can see the sexyness that is Gayboi twist.
Mmm... beer. http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v40/Twistex/IMG_0524.jpg
Look at those skinny guns! http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v40/Twistex/IMG_0523.jpg Whoo, I'm a little flush. So hawt.. want to touch the hiney..
Twistex · Mon Aug 01, 2005 @ 04:51pm · 15 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|