Tuesday, November 09, 2010


On Tuesdays for the second job, I go right from the day job. I hop on a bus which drops me off literally right next door. I do this because I am no longer a resident of that neighborhood so I can't park my vehicle on the street for long periods of time, so instead of worrying about getting a ticket, I just use my monthly public transportation pass to get me where I need to be. One of the downsides is that I have to leave before bus service stops but that is also an upside.

Anyway, I walked through the door, I'm greeted and then informed that the information that I need to do my job hasn't been provide yet and then I'm complemented on the design work that I did over the weekend.

Can you guess which happenstance I had a problem with?

Not the greeting.

Not the info that I needed was missing.

But the complement.

I hate being complemented by people for whom I have little respect. But what can I say? I would love to say, "Fuck you," but that's very, very, extremely rude and most witnesses would think I'm the asshole, if I said that, so I just said, "Thanks."

"Nice Job, Timmy."

"What the fuck do you know about anything? Much less about print design. Go fuck yourself."

There is just too much anger over nothing sometimes but I don't suffer fools lightly.

"Oh Timmy's such a nice man."

"No, Timmy is not. It's just that often he controls himself."

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