Friday, September 11, 2009


I believe that the existence of this particular space really needs a point of reference. A starting position if you will. By no means do I have the worst job in the world. Indeed, in these times, I am in a remarkably good situation. I earn a good salary, am relatively secure and have a job that challenges me and that I truly enjoy - most of the time. But it is definately those short periods of time that the job becomes so ridiculous (I can actually feel my brain being whipped into a neurotic smoothee) that make up for all the enjoyment.

For some background: I've been in this profession for eight years. I've worked in three different offices, each with their own challenges and their own particular quirks, but the general basis of my job remains the same: I am City Hall. Just me. To be sure, my responsibilities are scaled down accordingly to coincide with the population and demographics, but this is the easiest way to explain it.  I do have an assistant and a foreman, but, we have no departments, no Managers of Whateverthefuck, no Supervisors of Whyareyoudoingthat, just me. I'm responsible for policy, law, enforcement, accounting, taxation etc. etc. But most of all, I'm responsible for P.R. In all it's shapes and forms.

I am the third generation in my family to work in this profession. As a matter of fact, the office I currently preside over was held by my father before me. I had actually completed my training here, under him, and I swore that I wouldn't be his successor. But that is a story for another day. I tell you this so that you can appreciate the utter contempt that I felt when he told me this story. Please understand that my father is far more patient with people than I am. So if he was this flabbergasted; then I, surely, would have been muderous. I can appreciate it if you don't understand something, and I have no problem explaining it to you, but there are limits. To qualify those statements: Parents - learn your children. Wives - school your husbands. People - pull your heads out of your asses.

Please keep in mind that this is a man in his thirties. Without re-hashing the typical telephone pleasantries it goes thusly:

Asshat - "what is this bill that you sent me for?"
Pops - "Does it have an invoice number, sir?"
Asshat - "It's got a bunch of numbers"
Pops - "Ok, what is the amount?"
Asshat - "*Insert arbitrary amount here*"
Pops - "And what was the name?"
Asshat - "Douchebag Asshat."
Pops - "Ok, can you hold for a moment while I look it up?"
Asshat - "Why can't you just tell me what it's for?"
Pops - "Because we send out hundreds of invoices every year. Can you hold a moment?"
Asshat - "Fine."

            *Pops filps through approximately 150 invoices and cross references the spread sheet*

Pops - "I'm sorry sir, I can't find an invoice with your name on it."
Asshat - "What?!"
Pops - "We didn't send you an invoice."
Asshat - "What do you mean? I'm holding it in my hand!"
Pops - *thinks for a moment* "Mr. Asshat, what does it say at the top of the letter?"
Asshat - "Tax Notice."
Pops - "So it's not an invoice, it's a tax notice."
Asshat - "What do you mean?"
Pops - "Every year the municpality sends out a tax notice that is due by the end of December."
Asshat - "But I didn't buy anything from you!"
Angry Pops - "It's not an issue of you buying something from us; you own property and, as such, it is subject to taxation."

              *Pops also goes through a detailed explanation of the taxation system and purpose*

Asshat - "What do you mean, I have to pay this every year just to live here?"
Angry Pops - "Yes."
Asshat - "Well then, I'll just move!"
Angry Pops - "It doesn't matter. If you own property, you'll pay taxes no matter where you live."
Asshat - "I just bought this place from my mom! I've never paid taxes in my life!"
Angry Pops - "Then maybe you should call your mommy and have her explain it to you!"
Angry Pops - *slams phone down*

StabbyMart: Helping you rid the world of stupidity one idiot at a time.


  1. Sounds like challenging work, especially when dealing with The Galactically Stupid. Good to know that not ALL of them live in Oklahoma.
    By the way, I'm thinking of opening a theme park in Tulsa to be called "Moron-O-Rama" and one of the attractions will be The Hall of Whirling Knives. Perhaps we could work out a vendor agreement with Stabbymart?

  2. God, it really IS the Texas of Canada! I taught for many years and stupidity in children and teens is far more understandable and excusable than stupidity in adults. Stupidity in adults makes me ragey. I suddenly understand better your status updates. Oh this is Snuggiepants the Deathbringer. Hee.

  3. I kind of love your dad.

    Yea, this kind of stupid is available in many flavors everywhere. Pseudo-Mr. vB works in Radio Shack... retail. It's amazing, the stories he comes home with. The things people get furious over are absolutely startling. Things that have nothing to do with either The Shack or with my poor dear that he gets screamed at for. Just stunning. Perhaps when I tell him of Stabbymart, he'll open the Northeast Corridor branch. Me, I'm sure glad I got out of retail ages ago. And I'm in A/P, so I only have to deal with vendors applying our payments inappropriately. Hooray!

    Also, Hooray! For Blogs of Rageyness!

  4. How do I get my hands on franchise rights???

    Sign me up ... ass-hatters are far from extinct in Atlantic Canada ... no shortage whatsoever.

  5. Wow. I think I kind of love your dad right now. Anyone who tells someone on the phone to "call [his] mommy" is a hero in my book.
    If I weren't so scared my gf's work somehow finding it and firing her, I would post more of her stories. Just let me say that it's retail, 24 hours, and they have controlled substances.

  6. Yep. She sure is fun around here. That was one of my father's best lines ever. My mother was moritified. And I can appreciate not posting your gf's stories, weirdo. That's why I'm all incognito and shit.

    Danica, I need your handle. for the life of me I can't figure it out.

  7. just wanted to say thanks for the tech help, admin.

    and on-topic: uh, damn, canadians are ignorant about property taxes! (sorry, i know i coulda made that into a haiku, but i'm just so danged tired. plus, i need to go watch crank 2: high voltage.

  8. I worked retail for 5 years as the customer service desk lead. I hate people. I hate irresponsible adult people. I also adore your dad for telling him to call mommy. One of the more priceless moments of idiocacy I had was a girl who wanted to return a soaking wet, freshly laundred shorts because they didn't fit. I told her that since they had been laundred, it was a no go. Her excuse as to why they were soaking wet? They were in the trunk during the summer next to the laundry detergent and it "sweated" on the shorts and got them wet.

    I really hate the public.