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It finally happened. I blew up at some belligerent fucking punjab bastard who cussed me out because he cannot do video chats in iChat. I tried to explain to him all the many factors involved, the nature of bandwidth bottlenecks, firewalls, etc...checked his computer over to make sure iChat worked fine (which it did)...and then was told that I am a "piss-poor excuse for a technical support agent" because I couldn't make his video chats magically work. This fucking towelhead piece of human garbage then proceeded to berate me because of my "utter lack of knowledge" until I finally told him to go fuck his mother in the ass.
Something tells me I won't have a job tomorrow.
I've been lying through my teeth about this job, saying it wasn't so bad, that it paid well and was at least tolerable. From day one I've wanted to vomit every day I've had to work. I cannot stand Apple, I cannot stand that goddamned loathesome company's irrevocably retarded customers. No, you know what--I can stand retards. I've taught retards. You just have to take your time with them and explain what's going on in detail. But these fucking retards are belligerent. Impatient. Furious. Meanspirited and disgustingly demanding. I cannot take another fucking minute of it.
But...now what? I can't get a job to save my life. This is the only job I can get.
I have a master's degree in English but work at a goddamned soul-crushing customer-service junkheap. If I quit, I won;t be able to pay any of my bills and I'll probably never get another fucking job.
I am an utter failure at everything I do. I'm seething with rage constantly. I'm either going to stick a knife in someone or I'm going to stick it in my own throat.
I'm too fucked up physically to do most everything, but can't get anything in the university field because I'm not a fucking faggot or a lesbian. I can't get disability. I can't do anything.
I give up. This is the bottom.
aRvin, you can have my computer and all my music/writing. Do whatever you want with it. Sell it, put it on the web, erase it--I don't care.
Arcane Matt, you can have my DVDs and all my CDs. Everyone else I know is entitled to make copies of my MP3 collection.
I want my books to go to my buddy Joe Kendall for his eBay/Amazon used-books store.
All my schoolbooks and furniture and shit belong to my mother. Give all my clothes to good will.
THIS IS IMPORTANT: No funeral. No wake. No headstone. Nothing. Burn me. Dump my ashes on Pine Knob (ask Joe where it is). And never fucking speak my goddamned name again.
If I don't make it to tomorrow, the above must be put into effect. If I do, then just forget about it.
Something tells me I won't have a job tomorrow.
I've been lying through my teeth about this job, saying it wasn't so bad, that it paid well and was at least tolerable. From day one I've wanted to vomit every day I've had to work. I cannot stand Apple, I cannot stand that goddamned loathesome company's irrevocably retarded customers. No, you know what--I can stand retards. I've taught retards. You just have to take your time with them and explain what's going on in detail. But these fucking retards are belligerent. Impatient. Furious. Meanspirited and disgustingly demanding. I cannot take another fucking minute of it.
But...now what? I can't get a job to save my life. This is the only job I can get.
I have a master's degree in English but work at a goddamned soul-crushing customer-service junkheap. If I quit, I won;t be able to pay any of my bills and I'll probably never get another fucking job.
I am an utter failure at everything I do. I'm seething with rage constantly. I'm either going to stick a knife in someone or I'm going to stick it in my own throat.
I'm too fucked up physically to do most everything, but can't get anything in the university field because I'm not a fucking faggot or a lesbian. I can't get disability. I can't do anything.
I give up. This is the bottom.
aRvin, you can have my computer and all my music/writing. Do whatever you want with it. Sell it, put it on the web, erase it--I don't care.
Arcane Matt, you can have my DVDs and all my CDs. Everyone else I know is entitled to make copies of my MP3 collection.
I want my books to go to my buddy Joe Kendall for his eBay/Amazon used-books store.
All my schoolbooks and furniture and shit belong to my mother. Give all my clothes to good will.
THIS IS IMPORTANT: No funeral. No wake. No headstone. Nothing. Burn me. Dump my ashes on Pine Knob (ask Joe where it is). And never fucking speak my goddamned name again.
If I don't make it to tomorrow, the above must be put into effect. If I do, then just forget about it.
