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I was at the local postal service kiosk, obviously there because I had to mail something. Being the clueless bob that I can sometimes be, I had no idea how much it'd cost, how to lick the stamp, or where to put the letter in. Yes, I'm that ig-no-rant.

The girl behind the counter was very helpful, and I thought her to be pleasant and generally nice. No, I'm not sweet on her, I'm just saying she wasn't attitude. Anyway, right after me, this portly dude aged 45+ comes waddling over and starts talking to the girl. I couldn't hear at first, but within two sentences, he's like "I want to speak to [manager's name]...." and "You better learn some manners, if you keep talking like that, you won't be working here."

I look over, already hating the guy. I mean, what a freaking idiot. Who does he think he is, in his cheaply tailored suit, and fake Rolex. So "FatRolex" has a mailbox in the kiosk, and after getting his mail. He goes "I'm leaving my business card here, please have [manager's name] call me so we can discuss about your rude behaviour."

I wanted to say something, I really did. FatRolex is the exact type of person I'd love to take a baseball bat to. I haven't practiced my swing in a while, and the thought of making wood connect to his plush hinny, oh man, what I wouldn't give. I really wanted to give FatRolex a piece of my mind.

I held my tongue, because it's really not my fight. Still, if I was in a terrible mood, I probably woulda said something. Maybe it's best I didn't.

....I swear, if someone was like that to me, it'd be worth it to be fired just so I can slug him one.

posted by losir at 11:44 AM