I’ve dealt with her for years.
She has to recognize me as a regular customer.
Every time she waits on me, I greet her with, “Hi. How are you?”
She has never acknowledged my greeting. Why do I bother? Because I’m a human being. I can’t help myself.
Her vocabulary apparently consists only of “What would you like?” and “That will be $xxx.” And “Thank you” is equally conspicuous by its absence (love that phrase).
Latte this, you badly programmed robotic bitch!
According to spammer Lahjat Tagoe, s/he can provide me with medicine that will make my d!ck so big, I’ll be able to f^ck a tuba. Maestro, strike up the band!
I’m unemployed at the moment and job hunting.
The Internet and email are my links to the world and a possible job.
I wait with baited breath for a positive message. I delight when I hear the Google ping announcing a new message.
I hate when it’s another Netflix message that they’ve received or shipped another DVD.
1967, home from college for the summer, Good Humor driver: My route included a town that had an anti-noise ordinace that prohibited ice cream trucks from ringing their bells. The Good Humor bells were the linchpin of the Pavlovian response that drew kids of all ages out to the curb as their daily treat arrived.
2007, working as an editor for an educational company, well into my fifth year: After working on my personal PowerBook from day one, rather than the company’s PC, I’m prohibited from using it any longer. I’m told the company provided me with a PC, so I must use it. I’m ordered to take my PowerBook home.
