She's just a devil woman with evil on her mind

I was told today that I was demeaning. I was told this weekend that I said mean things.

Allow me to describe my job: For 8 hours a day, every day, I have to listen to people carp at me about:
- why they don't trust the internet
- why they don't trust me or my company because we belong to that evil internet
- why we should make some imaginary object that would be the one item that would make their lives easier
- how we pull "the old bait and switch" when the item they want is out of stock and I recommend a replacement item that may (or in some cases even may not be) a little more expensive
- how our customer service is lacking because we don't recommend a replacement when the item they want is out of stock
- how we rip people off in Alaska and didn't I know they're part of the United States?

I get barked at over pens that cost $.69. I get grief from people who want to send a typewriter to their relative/boyfriend/penpal in prison and they don't feel they have to find a street address for UPS delivery; that's *my* job. Today I had a customer blow my hair back because she though she was getting 25 folders for $4.00. Honestly, if something looks too good to be true, don't you want to read the details where it says "EACH"? I would. Wouldn't you?

So maybe, in the course of a day, it gets to me. In the course of a week I sometimes blow a gasket. It's got to let loose in some fashion, and I don't want to be a wino, so maybe I can be a little bit testy sometimes.

In the words of Chief Brody "I can drive the boat. Why don't you come down here and chum some of this shit?"

The problem is, I've really dug my own grave. I wanted a job without responsibility, but I don't think I truly understood that lack of responsibility leads others to assume you're a complete idiot. Oddly enough -- or perhaps not -- it's the idiots who treat you the worst. It's the ones with the addresses that include a space number who scream the loudest on the phone and teachers who know for certain that someone is an idiot but since they have a degree and a job instructing others there's No Way it's them.

To sum up, I'd like to paraphrase from "Too Much, Too Soon" - a portion of which I just saw in the Errol Flynn documentary on Turner "Buy-Our-Stuff" Classic Movies - in which Errol, as John Barrymore, implores his daughter who's walking out the door to accept him for what he is, instead of "making me jump through fiery hoops."

Amen, brother.