Strange as it may seem, this life is based on a true story." - Ashleigh Brilliant


name: shanna
age: 28
sign: scorpio
live: louisiana
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Tuesday, September 28, 2004

It was one of those super-duper and also shitty days.

I finally got a mini-fridge for my office!! Can you hear the multitudes in heaven rejoicing? No? Maybe it's just me, then.

I've wanted one of these for so long - well, as long as I've had my own office anyway. I can keep fresh food near me and not need to worry about hobbling all the way down to the company icebox (which is too small anyway). It'll save me money and fat content - I can eat healthier and cheaper if I bring food rather than going to fast food joints every day. Oh joy or joys - less steps for the crip, fresh food and less money spent on fast food bilge!

This fridge actually used to belong to a beloved family friend-who-was-more-like-family who passed away this past year. The fridge, along with a few other things, was bequeathed to my grandfather who in turn passed it down to me. Since it used to be in a nursing home, it has an interesting feature - a padlock on the door. When I asked why, I was told that this was because the old people in the home would raid each others' little fridges and nab food. I had a sudden mental image of an old woman in her dressing gown, crouching down in front of someone's mini-fridge in the middle of the night stealing a can of Diet Sprite and giggling manically to herself. Again - just me, right?

That was the super part of the day.

I had phone duty - which is always shitty in one form or another. Everyone every month has their turn at answering the phones for lunch and today was my day. Oh lucky me. Inevitably you are going to have to deal with one complete-bitch or total-asshole caller; it happens every time.

Today was no different.

Me: "This is agency-I-work-for, how can I help you?"

Complete Bitch: "Yes, I need to speak to name-of-supervisor."

Me: "I'm sorry, ma'am, everyone is out to lunch right now, and you'll have to call back after 12:30."

Complete Bitch (begins catching the attitude): "You mean there's no one there in the section I can talk to?"

Me (thinking, what part of "everyone" didn't you understand?): "No, ma'am, everyone is out to lunch."

Complete Bitch: "You mean they all go to lunch at the same time?"

Me: (wondering if I've accidentally started speaking Greek): "That's correct."

Complete Bitch: {exaggerated sigh} "Well, can I leave him a message?"

Me: "Well, you might just want to call back after 12:30." (Honestly, we're not supposed to take messages but have them call back).

Complete Bitch: "I want to leave a message."

Me: "Alright, hold on."

She then lets out this completely-pissed-off sigh, as if irritated that I had to ask her to hold on to grab a pen and pencil. This isn't my desk - I don't know where anything is.

Me: "Okay - what's your number?"

Complete Bitch (who at this point has taken on the pissiest-tone-of-voice you can imagine - apparently miffed that the person she needs to talk to has the audacity to be out eating lunch): "It's 555-"

Me (interrupting her): "I need the area code, ma'am."

Complete Bitch: {a sigh where you can just SEE the eyes rolling} It's in Baton Rouge! 225!"

Like I'm supposed to magically know where in the hell she's calling from. We get calls from all over the freakin' state all day long.

She continues with the number, I tell her to have a nice day while secretly wishing she has exactly the opposite. Then I ball up the piece of paper and throw it in the trash. Fuck with me, bitch.

She can call back. I mean, for fuck's sake, she's in Baton Rouge!

- shanna bared her soul & griped a bit @ 4:53 PM

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