Why Can't You People Just Be Happy?

It seems more and more every day that my job at the Sears Customer Service counter is just not for me.

If I receive one more complaint about the rotting hole in the ceiling of the woman’s changing room, it will be the straw that breaks the monkey’s back.

It’s everything I have in me not to tell them they’re lucky that Reginald from the custodial staff has run out of videotapes.

Why can’t you people just be happy?

So, your size 15 maternity dress has what looks to be pre-existing stains on them.

Guess what? If I told you HOW those stains got there, and WHY Rosalynn and Doug are no longer employed here, you’d probably be way more angry.

I swear that if everything isn’t up to your pregnant-sized standards, you think it’s my responsibility to fix it.

You really expect me to put down my Ruth Bader Ginsberg interview transcript? You really expect me to just drop everything in my world and cater to your every need? I think you’re grossly misinformed.

The moral of the story is this: If your new elliptical machine is missing parts, if the shawl you bought your grandmother has succumbed to the effects of moths or if little junior’s bouncy chair no longer fits his unhealthy, bulbous frame….

I don’t care.

I never have cared. I don’t see myself caring any time in the foreseeable future.

Maybe this job isn’t for me…