Thursday, 12 October 2017.
Waking up and beginning a day off is something different, isn’t it?
Some of us have errands to run. Some of us just lay around until we’re sore and tired of laying around and some of us yearn to do something cos we’re so busy most days that we don’t know what to do when we REALLY ARE without work.
For me, a day off is all about space and personal time. I don’t want to be around anyone. I don’t want to plan anything. I don’t want to be bothered. I keep my phone on Do Not Disturb until about noon on a day off.
There’s something about constantly being available that just angers me, ya know? I’m not into it. I’m not particularly into being available via text/email and phone call anymore. I long for the days of a land line and the lack of text messages. There’s an eye roll waiting for you if you’re a persistent texter. I just don’t understand why you’re being a bug-a-boo, ya know?
Today while Chris and I were in the store, my phone rang three times while I was walking through the aisles. Three times from the same number. I gave in and answered and no one replied when I said, “hello”.
“Hello. This is Josh.”
“Hi…. okay, then.”
And the phone went back in my bag. I’m not into it. This whole mystery number thing has my head bothered.
Actually, my bank has my head bothered. I’m thinking of dumping them. I think they need to go to Hell. I think the staff need to be fired or grow personalities and find new jobs at a call center so they’ll be forced to speak. I am tired of them. Today, Chris was riding in the car with me while I bitched and complained from the Northside of town to the Southside of town. I was so upset and so annoyed by their bullshit attitudes. I feel like I’m going to the principle’s office every time I drop a salon deposit off. I feel like they sit and judge my bank account and gossip about me. I feel like they’re just horrible, nasty Josh-prejudiced people. I hate them. I hate them with an ache in my body that radiates into my throat and causes me to talk intensely in short bursts. I just don’t have a tolerance for their bullshit.
Yesterday I called and had a lengthy conversation with the two tellers. I could feel their attitudes on the phone. I could tell they were annoyed with me.
Today I walked in and jokingly said, “Good morning! Your problem child is here to bother you again.”
Not a laugh. Not a nod. Just bitches.
Bitches standing at the podiums.
Fuck ’em. They’re dumb. I think its time to go bank shopping.
As the errand-running went on, my tense demeanor started to fade. I have realized that the world is full of clueless people and I am going to act fucking clueless like the clueless fucking wenches that work at my bank. I’m not going to answer text messages or phone calls or smile anymore either… just like them.
Clueless folks do not deserve my joy. [insert laugh here]
——- in other news:
I found out a local hobknobber is being honored by a non-profit in town and decided to pipe up online about what a fucking user this person is. This is the second time in a couple of months that I’ve been upset that people are getting honorable mentions for sucking ass and taking advantage of the community. Clueless people, once again, are honoring this piece of shit with a “Legacy” award. I’m so bored.
The person being honored is a manwhore and drunk. He’s a mess to be around and he gossips incessantly. I can’t remember a time he or his brood of fools hasn’t been drunk and inappropriate in public. He calls himself an advocate for the LGBT community yet when I needed his help a couple years ago during some bad press, he led the parade against me. He doesn’t deserve an award. He deserves a pack of condoms, a prescription of PREP and a one-way ticket to Betty Ford. He is also clueless like my bank.
I won’t be smiling at him either.
He blocked me on Facebook after he commented, “Sorry you feel that way, Josh Cooley.”
What a tool!
That next morning, the Non-Profit removed my comments because they are clueless individuals honoring trash.
Hmm…. Maybe the bank isn’t my problem. Maybe it’s the people who THINK they’re something special in this town.
They’re not special to me. Smart folks aren’t fooled so easily and I’m no dummy. I’m convinced the smart folks like me need to be grumpy and avoid crowds and the fuckery that has become public recognition.
I’m blaming my mood on my bank. They should have smiled.