She’s always late. Her ancestors arrived on the Juneflower.

Look, bank lady, I said I didn’t want a new debit card. I don’t really care that my card has the old bank name on it. But you, you were tricky. You neglected to give me my card back when you gave me my receipt. And between the screaming 3 year old in the back seat and my massive rush, I drove off.

When I returned to your branch the next day to get my damn card back, YOU HAD DESTROYED IT. You basically forced me to get the new card, with a new number. Now I have to redo a bazillion accounts, like the one for my kid’s preschool. And I had to waste 20 minutes in your bank.

I did not make a big deal out of it at the time. . .I had my kid with me and really, I needed time to process the fact that YOU DESTROYED MY PRECIOUS CARD. It’s connected to my Apple account. You have just prevented me from buying any new apps. Do you have any idea how much I love apps?

I think I hate you.

Also? I hope you lose whatever corporate contest that inspired you to kidnap my debit card.

Slap!

Flashlight: A case for holding dead batteries.

Dear Neighborhood Restaurant Chain Managers,

I applied to your branch months ago, back in October. I had a recommendation from a good friend’s husband and his blessing to use him as a reference. I did, and you were all impressed. I checked back week after week, even when I knew you weren’t hiring because I’ve been through this before and the ones that are persistent are the ones that usually get it, if qualified.  This isn’t rocket science we’re talking though, this is serving, hosting, bussing or hell, even washing dishes or mopping floors.  I didn’t care, I just needed a job.

I had an interview with the hiring manager- impromptu and unexpected- and was told I was one of his top picks and would be perfect and was just what he was looking for.  That was in December.  I was patient.  I took a temporary job, hoping that when it ended you’d be ready to hire.  I still drove the half hour at least once a week to let you know I was still interested and to check on the situation.  In the meantime, you got transfers in from other branches and wouldn’t be hiring for a while, but I was still at the top of the list and one of the first you would call, no matter what, once you were ready to hire again – according to you.  I was understanding, and again, patient. I understand that these things happen, but I was hopeful.

That was three weeks ago.  I was out of town for a week and had some other things come up last week.  I came in this week, not once but twice because when I came in earlier, the manager on duty was too swamped to see anyone.  The second time, I was told that you had just hired 9- NINE- new people last week and to check back in a couple weeks to see if things had changed.

What I want to know is, how in the hell do you hire nine people and not call someone who has been checking on this job for months and has already been interviewed twice?  How do you tell that person they’re at the top of your list of people they want to hire, and not even contact said person when you hire not one, not two, but nine people!  To say I feel betrayed and angry is an understatement.  I was disappointed because I expected so much more from you.  You all seemed very nice and respectable, people that would be straight forward and honest even if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.  Instead, I didn’t even get a courtesy call to let me know you’d decided to hire others.  What kind of fuckery is that?

I’m glad you didn’t call me and potentially hire me if this is the case.  There are other restaurants- nicer restaurants – with amazing customer service that at least have the decency to be honest and not string me along, wasting my time and money.  So here’s three, big, fat, juicy mushroom prints for all three of the managers that blew smoke up my ass so well to keep me coming back.  I’m done wasting my time with you.

Whenever I see a guy with a jacked-up pickup truck, I want to express my sympathy to his girlfriend for his apparently diminished penis size.

Do you do Wordless Wednesday on your blog?  Link up below!  We’d love to see more wacky pictures!

At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty- five they are caves in which we hide.

F. Scott Fitzgerald