Hello to Frustration

Well, two days to my surgery and the bastards screwed it up again. I had gone into the building to pre-register and everything that they had told me to do before the date, and my rage was almost unbearable when the assistant came back and was looking at me puzzled.

“And you say you’re scheduled for the seventeenth?” She asked me.

“Yes. I have the paper right here,” I said as I showed her the paperwork they had given me the date they had planned my surgery.

She glanced at it and said, “Well, we have you scheduled for next Wednesday at the same time.” She looked back at me expectantly, like I should just say yes and walk away.

“Well, I need it to be scheduled for THIS Wednesday. I’ve already taken the days off of work and had this planned for two weeks now. I don’t know where they got that I needed my date changed, but this needs to be fixed, now.” I about slammed the clipboard she had given me with the admittance paperwork on to the counter in my anger. I was still baffled where they were getting that I had wanted my date changed. I would have figured that my calling last week and straightening it out would have, you know, fixed it or something. Apparently not.

I think I had scared the assistant though, because she was back pedaling towards the offices as she told me she was going to see what had happened. A minute later she came back, smiling, saying they were trying to get my date set for tomorrow, but that I wouldn’t have the same time as before, that it would be in the afternoon.

“That’s fine. I don’t care about the time, but I care about the date.” I was probably being mean to someone that didn’t deserve it, it really wasn’t her fault. But REALLY. She is going to call me back tomorrow to confirm the time. If I’m told one more time that it’s next Wednesday, there might be a massacre in Texas. And not the chainsaw type either. That’s not really my style. Robert says I would probably do it Katamari style. Just roll up everything in a fit of anger and light the wiggling mass of people, plants, and animals on fire. I wonder if it would smell like barbeque, this being Texas and all.

So after the screw up (again) at the doctors, it was time for work. I don’t know if it’s just because I’ve been working non-stop with no real time off for the last six months and my patience for people of average intelligence or lower is waning, or if the human race is just becoming dumber as time goes on. Something. Whatever it is, it seems like the jackasses of the world are congregating in Denton, Texas, and they all are just raring to get into my store. Don’t get me wrong, out of the majority of the people who come in, it’s only maybe a five percent of them who are either really stupid or annoying. But that five percent stick out more than the other ninety-five of the easygoing or awesome customers. The bad always seems worse than the good. It’s just how everyday life goes.

There are always a few themes that go with the bad. There are always the sexist guys, or the redneck idiots, or the people who don’t think about what they are saying before they spit it out of their mouths. Or the people who think we are running some sort of conspiracy with the things we ask them. Would you like to reserve an upcoming title sir? No, the government will know where I am if I put five dollars down on the game that will MORE THAN LIKELY sell out. I’ll just come get it when it comes out.

Tonight it was the sexist asshole that looked at me like I belonged in a strip club instead of standing behind the counter of a videogame store. After blatantly avoiding me when I asked if he needed any help, he directs the rest of his questions to Jackie, the associate that I was working with tonight. Jackie is a big guy, and gives off the “friendly Texan” vibe. Guys gravitate towards him naturally, mostly because he’s not a moody girl who is trying to size them up, wondering if they’re dicks or not. So at first I just chalked it up to the guy liking Jackie. Until he opened his mouth a little more when I was trying to add to the conversation.

The guy was asking about PS3 pricing, so I was being as helpful as I could, as he didn’t have any idea of how many different PS3 versions there had been. Jackie didn’t either, but with how long I’ve been working at my company, I’ve been around for it all. I could also rant for days on how stupid I think Sony is for those moves, but that is a different blog altogether. After explaining to him how difficult it is to get certain models, even used, and telling him what would probably be the best system for him and his son, he turns to Jackie and says “Well, you’ll know this better than she will..”

I don’t even know the end of what he said. My world swum in redness for a minute, and I had to refrain myself from making a comment that might have gotten me fired on the spot. I picked up a few things, put them back down. Did a useless pace of the floor. By the time he had finished his questions and began to head out, I was past the point of instant murder. But if looks would kill, the little boy he was carrying with him would have been crying over a dead body right about then.

I don’t get it. I don’t know why men automatically swear that I don’t know anything about said “manly” things because I have a vagina. Like my private parts mean I can’t comprehend the complexities of the video game world, I’m just working there because I know my alphabet and can file shit correctly. Why do people still hold such backwards views on females? I could probably get into the racism out here too, because my manager Le gets some flack because of his race. But when it comes to choosing between a black guy and a chick, they usually swing for the guy. I guess it’s just something I’m gonna have to deal with.