i’m in a mood. have been for a couple of days. it seems to affect my ability to interact with other humans; things keep happening where i am filled with the desire to kick the person i’m talking to in the shins and yell at them.
not including getting unreasonably cranky with other drivers, two things have made me want to stab people with forks. specifically:
1. the courier
got 15000 brochures printed in melbourne, that were freighted up to sydney. i need them for a conference next week. a couple of days ago, the courier turns up, holding a bit of paper and looking vaguely perplexed.
Courier: I’ve got a 200kg pallet downstairs.
Me: Okay. [long pause while he looks at me, then his bit of paper] So…what do you want me to do about it?
Courier: Well I’m not going to break my back bringing it upstairs.
Me: I’m not either – it isn’t my job.
Courier: It’s not mine either.
I’m sorry – this person is a courier. Is it not his job to deliver goods? Yes a 200kg pallet is a big delivery – so wouldn’t you think that they would have worked out that you would need at least a trolley, if not someone to help you get it off the truck at the other end? He flat refused to do anything but take the brochures back to the depot. I haven’t heard from the printers or the couriers, and I think my brochures are going to be forever languishing in a warehouse somewhere because apparently the job description of a courier these days doesn’t actually include delivering anything.
2. the harridan next door
the flat next to our office has been vacant for some time. it’s not the world’s most salubrious address, and the building itself is in a terrible state of disrepair. there is a locked room next to the back door of the flat that has a toilet and a laundry tub in it. previous tenants have used this as a laundry, but ever since i have worked here (4+ years) we have had a key to this room and we use the toilet facilities, such as they are.
someone has just moved in to the flat. as i was heading down the hall this afternoon to use the amenities, she came beetling out of her flat. an older woman, with a long greying ponytail and glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Harridan: excuse me, are you from the front offices?
H: this is our private laundry, you know. the agent said it was for our exclusive use.
me: it’s also our toilet.
H: no, i was told that it was for our use only. i’ve also been told that a washing machine was stolen from in here.
me: well we always lock the door.
H: well, the gentleman [don’t know who she was referring to] told me that the machine was stolen by someone with a key. [looking pointedly at the key i was holding in my hand]
me: [very terse] well we have been using this as our toilet ever since we moved into this building, for the last nine years.
H: nine years? well, why would the gentleman tell us it was ours then?
me: i have no idea.
H: well just to let you know we will be doing all we can to secure our property so i’ll be taking it up with the agent.
me: fine. [walked in and closed the door on her]
if there is one thing i can’t stand, it’s being condescended to like that. the words above don’t describe the tone this woman was using, like i was a recalcitrant child daring to disagree with her. or like i was something she had scraped off her shoe. and it’s not like this place is the taj mahal (which i guess is probably why she’s being so narky about it). that kind of thing just goads me into being more stubborn and sarcastic, and unfortunately that type of person just doesn’t respond to the sarcasm, they just keep ratcheting up the attitude.
such trivial things! how they provoke such rage in me!
okay i have to revise this. i don’t hate all people, and certainly don’t hate all couriers. another courier has just arrived to deliver my brochures, with a trolley, and a big smile, and is bringing the boxes upstairs without a trace of grumpiness. see? it is possible to interact with me and not make me want to kick/stab.
jury’s still out on the harridan, though.