Overloaded

Have you ever had a day when, for whatever reason, it feels as if your senses are overloaded? And I’m not talking in the good chocolate cake, sunset, pants tight so you get a little tingle down there senses.

A customer comes in and he’s a smarmy guy who has to pull something over on everyone or he feels unfulfilled. Like infomercial stars (I saw that headline recently and laughed) updating their snake oil sales pitch one paid programming time slot at a time.

He’s relentless in his bid to get me to jump at his opportunities. It could be a ‘power’ snack that’ll give me more energy than I’ll need. I don’t know about you but I like being tired. Makes me feel more American.

Or an item that’s ‘hot’ but not in the ‘stolen’ way. I’d be more reassured if he’d made the effort to take the ‘security’ tag off.

Today’s effort was memorable due to it’s complexity and mephitic properties. To say he smelled like the underside of a burrow’s nut sack would be spot on.

The thing is, sans smell, this ponzi scheme was similar to one he tried three months ago. He wanted to pay half his rate this month, full amount the next and then another half which would catch up with his past due. No joke. That’s a real one. And people wonder why I’m a bundle of ticks. It’s my bodies frustration due to the current murder laws.

He also wanted me to put him down for referrals. He said he’d kick me 10% of the bounty. And he sold it as if it were a golden urinal. He couldn’t believe when I declined the fresh new three dollar bills he offered as a show of good faith.

“Listen,” I said wiping my stench burned eyes. “Let’s not play this game anymore. Frankly, I’m fucking sick of it and tired of you wasting my time.”

He was thoroughly offended. He said the offer was beneficial to both parties. I told him I had other things to take care of, I’ve heard all his scams before so he should leave because,

“All I’m getting is a strong sense of deja screw.”

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4 responses to “Overloaded

  1. Grrrrrrr. Thoughts-0-Dave was right, it’s been a shitty week. But, hey! Look how close excrement is to excitement! They’re practically cousins.

    There have been about half-dozen short bits this week that’ll come out over time. But it has been The Week Of The Walking Worthless. Which sounds so much more salable then the working title, For Love Of Fuck! Or How I Stopped Worrying And Started Killing the Moronic.

    The latest fucked up thing was why this story is up instead of the one scheduled. The one scheduled, on a guy with VERY personal piercings and a willingness to whip ’em out, was deleted. By me. Accidentally.

    I’m not blaming it on the fact that I put a contact in this morning so now there’s a cloud in the middle of my left eye but, come on, my left eye has always had it out for me!

    I’m bummed because it’s a weird little story (as expected – it’s not just about a dick exposed in a scummy bar to me then my girlfriend upon request, it covered mine and Bug Boy’s, too! Piercings not dicks). I may try to rewrite it but I hate doing that.

    I once wrote a very serious fifty page story about love, loss, pain and other highbrow, collegiate type drivel which I left on a bus. So, instead of rewriting that, I spent a night writing a piece of fluff about a fictional tennis league, NUTS (Northern Utah Tennis Stars). Oddly, that was lost in a fire. The only good thing was it was long after I got my grade.

  2. wait, what exactly do you do for work? i’m new to your blog so i dont know…

  3. Everyone pay attention, and remember these “Rules to Live BY”, please; they will save you much heartache, and self-castigation.

    1. There is no such thing as a free lunch.
    2. The check is not in the mail. Ever.
    3. If it looks too good to be true, then it isn’t.
    4. For every case of ‘opposites attract’ there are two cases of opposites repel.
    5. Familiarity DOES breed contempt.

    I’m thinking of commissioning a sampler from JH, with these rules cross-stitched for your work place, B&G, for your next b-day.

    Oh, wait a minute, that wouldn’t do any good because most of your public contacts are self-centered, iliterate societal dregs, who even if they can read for themselves, will still ask you what it says or means, furthering your frustration.

  4. It’s the thought that counts.

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