So I went to work, with my heavy head and my droopy eyes and my snotty nose, whinging all the way. I sat down and filled my mouth with Soothers and Vicks (the little drop things - not the claggy white goop you rub on your skin) and settled in for a day of work. Somewhere along the line, my voice came back, which was beneficial for everyone involved (as is generally the case in a role predominantly focused around speaking).
Cue phone call from Crazy Bi-Polar Cow:
Her: Oh, thank you for that, you've been very helpful.
Me: Thank you.
Her: BUT I THINK THAT YOU'RE PUTTING UNDUE PRESSURE ON ME AND TRYING TO FORCE ME TO LIVE BEYOND MY MEANS! JUST THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE DOING. JUST THINK ABOUT IT.
Me: Um.
Her: Could you please post that to me, darling?
Me: Oh. Ok. Just regarding that last thing...
Her: I KNOW YOU HAVE THESE THINGS YOU HAVE TO SAY BUT JUST DON'T BOTHER TRYING TO JUSTIFY IT, BECAUSE YOU'RE ALL THE SAME AND PEOPLE LIKE YOU CAUSE TOO MUCH TROUBLE FOR WORDS.
Me: And is that Kathy with a C or a K?
Her: A K. Thank you, dear.
Following this, a scary man who owns many guns introduced himself as 'the militant hillbilly' of the company and then said he'd finalised a heap of sales I'd made, and I was happy, but frightened.
As I sat on the bus on my way home, I peered out the window at one of Brisbane's resident plastic bag-toting bums, before discovering that his pants were down, and I had inadvertently STARED AT HIS PENIS. This is burnt into my memory forever and ever.
These days just happen to me, right?
Cue phone call from Crazy Bi-Polar Cow:
Her: Oh, thank you for that, you've been very helpful.
Me: Thank you.
Her: BUT I THINK THAT YOU'RE PUTTING UNDUE PRESSURE ON ME AND TRYING TO FORCE ME TO LIVE BEYOND MY MEANS! JUST THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE DOING. JUST THINK ABOUT IT.
Me: Um.
Her: Could you please post that to me, darling?
Me: Oh. Ok. Just regarding that last thing...
Her: I KNOW YOU HAVE THESE THINGS YOU HAVE TO SAY BUT JUST DON'T BOTHER TRYING TO JUSTIFY IT, BECAUSE YOU'RE ALL THE SAME AND PEOPLE LIKE YOU CAUSE TOO MUCH TROUBLE FOR WORDS.
Me: And is that Kathy with a C or a K?
Her: A K. Thank you, dear.
Following this, a scary man who owns many guns introduced himself as 'the militant hillbilly' of the company and then said he'd finalised a heap of sales I'd made, and I was happy, but frightened.
As I sat on the bus on my way home, I peered out the window at one of Brisbane's resident plastic bag-toting bums, before discovering that his pants were down, and I had inadvertently STARED AT HIS PENIS. This is burnt into my memory forever and ever.
These days just happen to me, right?
posted by GBE at 6:59 pm
5 Comments:
No, it's not just you. I kinda wish it was but it isn't.
I'll excuse you for looking at some bum penis (those two words together make me giggle). It's been a long time and, hey, when you're on a dry spell you have to take your glimpses when they come.
Oh, and don't bother trying that claggy white stuff in the Vicks jar - childhood misdemeanours have lead me to realize that it isn't tasty.
Euw! A tramps nob!
"Pass her the Mindbleach; kills all horrible mental images dead!"
I have days like that all the time, thats why blogs were invented! You work with the public, there are so many loons out there it is actually scarey, that you will interact with them daily!
It was worse than the time I saw a bum weeing in a bin, or the time I saw one with his hands down his pants, scratching and picking at fleas or crabs or whatever the hell he had.
Jesus. My poor eyes.
Just look at it as fodder for future nightmares....
- M
Post a Comment
<< Home