Desk Clerk Diaries

A Reponse To Clear The Herkimer Name

It has come to the attention of Mindaugus and myself that the Herkimer name has taken a lashing on this here website.

To my dismay, fellow editorial writer Gerald Gunderson has made numerous attacks on me, my faithful ferret and General E. Herkimer, who lost his life while fighting side by side with one of the “Gundoz”.

Mr. Gunderson has called on me to join him in his World of Warcraft realm to settle this centuries-old dispute, once and for all.

It has been suggested by the owner of this site, Mr. Julius Bloop, that it is not fair to solve our dispute this way considering I don’t play said game.

To which Gerald replied: “If Lionel is a 14-28yr old male and doesn’t play he’s a fgt anyway LOL”

For your information, “sir”, I am 35-years-young. I know what you’re inferring, though. “Lionel, why is an intelligent adult relegated to working in the Doolittle Shopping Center’s Sears Customer Service Department?”

I suppose the only answer I can give is - fate.

For whatever reason, the Gods above have decided to hand me the short end of the stick in every aspect of my life.

No matter how much more cultured I am than the miscreants I encounter, they always come out the victor. Just last week I came upon a particularly ghoulish customer who, in a most scurrilous manner, sauntered up to my desk, hurled her enormous arms in my direction, and plopped down what she THOUGHT to be the latest trend in clothing.

I can see where she might’ve been confused. Culottes are very ambiguous as far as time periods go.

The entire time I interacted with this beast, I was taking “privileged mongoloid” inventory. Bluetooth? Check. Enormous diamond ring (on her enormous digits)? Check. No less than 6 credit cards? Check.

This barbarian has been able to waddle through life without the least bit of effort, and has wealth and success to show for it. Lionel Herkimer, on the other hand, has had it a little different.

My mother was not so much…around when I was young. My father, Lloyd Y. Herkimer said it had something to do with the fact that, “Pin monkeys with a receding hairline, a size 52 waist and a passion for huffing hobby glue out of a Ziplock bag just aren’t attractive these days.”

So Mom left at an early age and the next 33 years of my life were spent in mild obscurity. People don’t exactly find me…attractive, interesting, hygienic, etc.

Not spoiled enough to afford a proper stay in academia, I was forced to obtain knowledge in a less conventional way. I, along with my then newborn Mindaugus, lived in my father’s basement.

I had…acquired a few political journals through the local library, and my life was changed. I spent hours upon hours in that basement reading those journals, engulfing every last word, until I had every passage committed to memory.

Years passed, I got more reading material and eventually I was given an ultimatum by my father. I believe his exact words were, “If you and that fucking ferret don’t get a goddamn life and get the fuck out of my basement, I’m going to rip your fucking ears off and sick a rabid dog on you.”

It was clear that I needed a change of scenery.

So, I scoured the job ads and stumbled across the Doolittle Shopping Center’s Sears Customer Service Department. The rest, as they say, is history.

So, Gerald, I know that the Gundersons have always been well-off, as evidenced by the lush neighborhood in Gary, Indiana you call home. So, next time you call someone a “fgt”, you should do some research.