My day today started quite well. I had a good nights sleep and didn't have any weird dreams, for once. I was rather alert and awake as my alarms sounded too, which for me is a feat.
Up and dressed I got and so I started my day. The Cowley Road was rather empty as I tootled up it, which was nice and then to The Royal Mail Sorting Office I went. I was running a little late for work, so I needed to fly in and out to collect my parcel and then carrying on to work, work, work!
I arrive, no parking bays free, typical I mutter. So as I'm intending to fly in and out, I park on the double yellows, I'm only in the way of one form of the public and that's the pedestrians and it's a industrial estate, so that's not much of a worry. So out of my car I get, to be informed by a nice lady (whose in the sorting office) that the clampers have discovered a lovely little black spot with this said area and the crapness of the 8 bays they offer to visitors and customers of this said building, so are pretty much on the case and hover and strike the unsuspecting people (obviously if your a clamper, it's far easier to sit on black spot, instead of clamping the real pain in the arse parkers). She says that she'll be departing very shortly in her red MGF, so I get back in my car, turn around and hover, for her to move...5 minutes, two more customers and the watching of one stupid woman in an MPV who can't mount the pavement, as she may upset her son in the back of the car later, not as quick as she implied, she departs. I pull in, better than she had, so that the stupid woman in her MPV can pull in next to me, does she? like fuck!!! I really shouldn't have bothered my little head about it!
Once inside, I ring the bell, one minute later a post guy (not a postman, just a postal worker) smiles, takes my card and buggers off. A minute later, another man pops in to the window, to collect the stupid woman in the MPV's card, while her son constant need to pull faces, makes me want the wind to change drastically, that'll teach the little shit!
While waiting for the post guy whose dealing with my parcel to return from the depths of Oxford's sorting office, I notice and read the sign saying that the Royal Mail's workers are respectful and polite, so could we please be so to them in return. I start thinking about why you would want to abuse one of these people, they have your parcel, you give them the card, they give you your parcel..occasionally you exchange it for money but it's not their fault, it's the head honcho's fault for increasing the prices or the person who sent you the parcel's fault for not paying enough...it's crazy to think someone would want to insult one of the post guys!
Finally the smiley man returns laughing. I enquire to why he's laughing and he says the following, while pointing at my parcel "Mole, I know, I know" (To which I'm expecting him to say, "I know I shouldn't be laughing at your surname but I'm a prick and have no respect for anyone, my days are spent sitting in this little office with him, and he has a flatulence issue that can make the atmosphere polluted and the job ever so hard, so I'm trying to find certain issues funny, to lighten my day, please please please except my deepest apologies at being so rude, I'm ever so sorry. And please have a pleasant Christmas". But does he? Fuck off does he, instead he completes the sentence with the following.) "it's funny isn't it, Mole! ha ha ha".
At which point I look at him in dismay, he chuckles some more expecting me to chuckle with him and probably say something to the effect of "I know, stupid name, it makes me laugh everyday, I'm so lucky, much better than being a boring old Smith or Jones, ha ha ha, I really am lucky to have such a hilarious name". But no instead, I look at him and then the respectful sign with the implication that the Royal Mail staff are ever so respectful and feel like giving him torrents of verbal abuse starting with the saying "How very dare you?! You ignorant cretin! blah blah blah", but I don't, as I'm respectful...I give him a dishearten look and depart.
Fucking Prick!!! What a fucking nerve, how fucking dare he...ignorant little twat...what the fuck did I ever do to him and at which point did I ever ask him to comment on my surname or ask his opinion, I don't think I fucking well did. I know he must have a pretty shitty job at times but don't we all?! So at which point did he think he had the right to criticise my name! I've lived with the surname Mole all of my life and I actually have grown to like it, after years of ridicule and names being chucked in my direction, it's quite hard to find a name that I haven't been called and if it's a drunken ignorant prick at a party, who I have just met or only know through a friend, I laugh with them and chuckle away, as I know I'm better than them (in many ways but mainly through respect and decorum), but as for the people who are supposed to be supplying me with a service, paid for by the public...it's outrageous!
Needless to say, I was late for work!
Monday, December 18, 2006
He deserved a slap!
Labels: brain sick, parking, Post Office, Rudeness, Surname Insults
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