To My Co-Workers:
If you send me over a ticket telling (not asking, TELLING) me to confirm delivery on an item, and the tracking number is RIGHT THE FUCK THERE on the self-same ticket that you sent to me, chances are extremely high that the most I'm going to do with it right at that moment is to shake my head over how much more of your time and energy it took for you to shunt it off to me instead of copying and pasting the tracking number your own damned self, at which point I'll probably put the ticket away until I finish dealing with more pressing matters.
If you are in such a damned hurry to get something from point A to point B that you have to actually put it on a flight to get there THAT DAY, you're going to want to know a couple of things. Most notably, you're going to want to know WHAT it is you're sending, and whether or not it actually exists.
Should you just so happen to be Queen Blonde Bitch, and should an item in question be something that has nothing whatsoever to do with the ONE account that you have been entrusted with, and should you butt your nose into the situation and command me to do a particular thing with it, at which point I go with what the person whose hands actually ARE on it says to do...don't be surprised. Couple that with the fact that if, in fact, you are Queen Blonde Bitch, you can pretty much take it to the bank that I'll be disregarding you altogether at every possible opportunity, seeing as I pretty much hate your ass and derive immense satisfaction from ignoring your self-important demands. No point getting pissed off about it, although you're welcome to do so. That just makes it more fun for me when I get to remind you anew that you are JUST NOT THAT FUCKING IMPORTANT.
Carry on.
Deep breath:)
Posted by: Gary Davies | 03/11/2007 at 09:32 AM
LOL, You sound as though you really love your job ;-) You must have a very interesting work life!
Posted by: lunofajro | 03/10/2007 at 12:09 PM