Tuesday, August 05, 2003 Dial "C" for Crackpot
My favorite thing about working in the little feedlot set up at the call center is sitting next to the mate and swapping nutshell recaps of callers between the beeps that mean we have to start out spiels again. Today's winners: Daytime--My call. A man who told me that this was not a Marxist country, but the liberals were trying to turn it into one. Night--the mate, by a long shot. A man who declined the "Save Texas Courts" yardsign, because the only sign on his property declares it a UN free zone. Apparently no UN personnel are allowed in his yard at all.
I would quit this job, but for the crackpots, and the general "cursed" nature of my car. The back tire, which I had to replaced just a month ago, has this tumor popping out of it. I'm hoping to tap into my sense of entitlement and get the mechanic to replace/fix the tire for free, because I don't know much about cars, but tires are totally supposed to last for more than a month.
I wish I hadn't destroyed my old, functioning car and gotten the haunted car instead.
I wish a lot of things.
Now I wish for desert. I will go and acquire it. Goodnight.
posted by Frenz | 8/05/2003 11:52:00 PM
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