Of course I left my beer at the store..
Because that’s the kind of day I’m having. You know, the kind of day where everyone around you is in a shitty mood and you all feed off each other’s negativity? And then, just when you’re about to go home, and you’re all happy about that, you make the mistake of answering that last phone call? Yeah, fuck that day.
I ended the afternoon with a customer who was extremely rude to me when I told him he could not return equipment 90 days past the sale date.
Customer service goes completely against my nature, which is to speak my mind and not take any shit. I jammed several choice words back down my throat and meekly told the customer I would take his issue to my supervisor. My stomach literally hurts from not calling the asshole’s bluff and telling him he should go right ahead and take his business elsewhere since he’s placed exactly three small-potatoes orders with us.
When I got home, I immediately consulted with the fridge about some beer. I specifically remember purchasing a six pack of beer last night, and it’s nowhere in sight, neither in the form of full, cold ones, or empty bottles next to the sink. I must have left it at the store. Figures.
My husband still looks like an alien to me and I feel especially fat and ugly today, so I probably won’t be working my frustrations out in the bedroom. I think it’s time to reach for the hard stuff.
Time to make whatchagot cocktails! What can I make with tequila, Godiva liqueur, amaretto, peach schnapps, Chambord, Frangelico and Maker’s Mark?
Actually, Kojak just got home and reminded me that I bought two 22oz fancy beers and not a six pack. There will be beer after all. Now if I can just find the person who does all the cooking around here. Oh, wait, that’s me. Well, fuck.