The Next Interloper Will Be Eviscerated
There is scarcely any greater hell than having to go do anything with my mother. I had to take her to go get a new cell phone. Taking my mother to do anything always ends up taking much longer than it needs to take as well as contributing to my high blood pressure. This trip would be no different.
My mother understands almost nothing about electronics and explaining such things to her is about as productive as explaining them to a palm tree, except the palm tree will not aggravate the shit out of you by asking questions about things which were already explained.
So we go on down to the Borg Cube of Retail (aka Sam's Club) since that was where she got her last cell phone. We go in and find the cell phone kiosk and I attempt to explain to the sales girl the problem that my mother was having with her old phone. As I'm telling her about the poor reception, some shmuck interjects with "Where you live probably doesn't get any coverage. You need to go on the [service provider's] web site and look at the coverage map."
"Excuse me?!? Who the fuck are you, and why the hell are you butting yourself into this conversation?" was what I was thinking.
"I live by blah, blah, blah, and I don't have any service." Well boo-fucking-hoo.
"Oh, you live between the old Bell South microwave antenna and the TV antenna farm. No wonder you don't get any service," says me.
That was my first mistake--acknowledging the asshole. I should have told him where he could go but I doubt it would have helped. This guy was intent on bloviating to somebody and my mother loves to engage with such morons because a complete stranger is obviously an expert. (And did I mention that he was wearing a pink and lavender plaid shirt?! Now you've GOT to listen! /heavy sarcasm> )
I couldn't take it. I just walked away and let the two of them yack it up. The plan was to come back in a few minutes and hopefully the asshole would be gone. Well, hope does not reside at Sam's Club. When I came back, he was still there, jacking his jaw. I could feel my blood pressure rising, so I walked on over to the pharmacy to check it out on the machine. Yup. Up 15 points.
After a few more minutes, I returned to the phone kiosk. STILL FUCKING THERE! Well, to make a long story short, after an HOUR AND A HALF, the motherfucker finally left. An HOUR and a fucking HALF. I was fucking livid. I swear I will never let anything like that happen again.
And ya know what the worst part was? It only took about 10 minutes to actually pick out a new phone and take care of the incidentals.
My mother understands almost nothing about electronics and explaining such things to her is about as productive as explaining them to a palm tree, except the palm tree will not aggravate the shit out of you by asking questions about things which were already explained.
So we go on down to the Borg Cube of Retail (aka Sam's Club) since that was where she got her last cell phone. We go in and find the cell phone kiosk and I attempt to explain to the sales girl the problem that my mother was having with her old phone. As I'm telling her about the poor reception, some shmuck interjects with "Where you live probably doesn't get any coverage. You need to go on the [service provider's] web site and look at the coverage map."
"Excuse me?!? Who the fuck are you, and why the hell are you butting yourself into this conversation?" was what I was thinking.
"I live by blah, blah, blah, and I don't have any service." Well boo-fucking-hoo.
"Oh, you live between the old Bell South microwave antenna and the TV antenna farm. No wonder you don't get any service," says me.
That was my first mistake--acknowledging the asshole. I should have told him where he could go but I doubt it would have helped. This guy was intent on bloviating to somebody and my mother loves to engage with such morons because a complete stranger is obviously an expert. (And did I mention that he was wearing a pink and lavender plaid shirt?! Now you've GOT to listen!
I couldn't take it. I just walked away and let the two of them yack it up. The plan was to come back in a few minutes and hopefully the asshole would be gone. Well, hope does not reside at Sam's Club. When I came back, he was still there, jacking his jaw. I could feel my blood pressure rising, so I walked on over to the pharmacy to check it out on the machine. Yup. Up 15 points.
After a few more minutes, I returned to the phone kiosk. STILL FUCKING THERE! Well, to make a long story short, after an HOUR AND A HALF, the motherfucker finally left. An HOUR and a fucking HALF. I was fucking livid. I swear I will never let anything like that happen again.
And ya know what the worst part was? It only took about 10 minutes to actually pick out a new phone and take care of the incidentals.
posted by Xul at 7:40 PM
4 Comments:
Even though my dad lives here in California, and does not wear pink and lavender plaid shirts, I feel I sould apologize anyway, as he has probably accosted many other people at Sam's Club and elsewhere that I will never be able to apologize to.
My mom later told me that she thinks the guy told her that he was an engineer. That pretty much explains it all.
There's only one way to deal with twats like that, be abhorrently rude. Stop them in their tracks, know it all cock noshers. I'm actually practising for my intermediate level in Appalling Public Displays of Rudeness Certificate, having recently achieved my Shock Tactics to Drop People in Shops badge, and my daily exercises tend to rid my immediate area of twats. The best combination seems to be a very sweet smile combined with rudeness of colossal proportions so that you leave the cunt not only with a red face but also a sense of deep confusion.
"My mom later told me that she thinks the guy told her that he was an engineer. That pretty much explains it all."
Oh, shit, that was my dad!
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