What’s wrong with me? Is it even me?
it seems like I’ve had some incredible difficulties lately with customer service. all of it. everywhere. anytime I buy any sort of good or service, I run into some silly little inconvenience, some malfucktion or irritant that merits complaint. and when I dial those little numbers on my phone, I open myself up to an even greater world of frustration. I talk to voice-recognition computers who haven’t been programmed to understand the cusswords I sling or the demeaning, condescending tone I bring. I wait on hold for half an hour at a time only to have my call cut off when I’m transferred. No one seems to know what the folks in the other department do, and no one ever knows who it was that screwed up.
and every time, EVERY TIME, I end up getting bent out of shape. it distorts my entire perception of the world. the apartment is suddenly more cluttered, my car or bicycle doesn’t ride as smoothly, traffic doesn’t flow, and there are no open seats at the coffee shop. I get so pissed off that my hands get a bit shaky, and I have to wonder for a moment: how do people live this way? do I just need more yoga or something? Maybe I’m experience Post-Acute Withdrawals from smoking. Maybe it’s my time of the month. Maybe life is unbearable and we should all enter into suicide pacts.
“and when we can’t remember the entire serenity prayer, we can use the short version: ‘fuck em.'”