Sep. 17th, 2005

kierthos: (Default)
Last night at work wasn't too bad, but I swear, there are some retarded mother-fuckers in Columbia. Either that, or there is a section of mental patients with an associative disorder that requires them to call FedExKinko's when they go off their meds.

Three times last night, I had phone calls that pretty much boiled down to this:

Customer: Hi! I want to tell you as little as possible about something I need printed. How much is it going to be?
Me: I need more information then you've given me.
Customer: No can do! I'm clearly insane and I demand pricing guarentees!

And two calls of:

Customer: Hi, I'm driving down a street you've never heard of. How do I get to your store? By the way, I plan on not actually listening to any directions you give me, so I'll be calling back later from another street you've never heard of.

Through in a wino, a couple asshats using the computers, and it's almost a normal Friday night. (Unlike the past few Friday nights, there were no ugly transvestites in the store last night.)

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