Anyone mind if I set this to early 80's punk?
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So, I get off of work and find that my doctor's practice (he is on vacation) has managed to fuck my prescription up again, for the ninth day straight. So no sleep, lots of fun withdrawal symptoms1, and the urge to take a chainsaw to his staff and then proceed to the rest of the species. And there is a minimum of 24 hours before it will be fixed.
If my crew were this incompetent, I wouldn't have to fire them, because they'd have killed themselves by now.
Everything is broken and everything sucks.
1 Imagine the first day of stopping smoking. with a toothache, only right behind your eyes. The some bastard pushes you down the stairs and the IRS audits you. That's the last ten minutes. Of the last 24 hours. It seriously took every rational bit that's left of my brain to not park my car in the side of a bridge abutment on I-10.
I am flattered
Look at the world emptily, and it will gladly return the favor.
After 10 years in this business I am finally saying goodbye to table humpers, arm fondlers, leg patters, and other assorted gross and creepy dudes.
I'm one month in my new lease at a chiro and going to very carefully run my 3rd Groupon and no more questions as to whether I offer "service to other areas". If this doesn't work, weed shops are aplenty in these parts and I have tons more sales/smoking experience than these hippies.