Fuck You, Miserable Bitch at the Post Office.

I’ve got my rage on my friends. Old school style! It seems to have simmered down in recent months with a thing call happiness. But IT IS BACK BITCHES.

Recently I’ve been posting cocks in the mail. It’s not something I thought I would ever put on my CV, but I would say I am now an expert in the art of wrapping a cock, adding a label and fulfilling the sale from my online shop Far Kew Emporium. 

I take my packaged cocks to the post office and all they have to do is scan it because everything has been done by my fine self on the computer. They don’t even have to take my money because it’s pre-paid online. But bugger me, there is a sour bitch at my local post office who has a face like a slapped arse everytime I go in there.

The place always smells of incense which is quite pleasant, so to try and get her on-side I made a comment about the nice smell. Well, she looked like I had just smacked her in the face with a wet fish. She gave me what can only be described as a smirk like someone who just ran over a litter of puppies and set fire to your house. A proper fucking psycho smirk that has zero to do with friendliness.

Customer service is an art. I know, I have worked in customer service for many years and I know it’s not for everybody. But if she is an employee or even the franchisee, someone needs to tell this nasty old swine that she should get another job or just retire already.  She looks PISSED AS FUCK every single time I go in there. Maybe it’s because she takes an extra close look at my parcels before she scans them into her computer. Maybe it’s because she urgently needs what is inside those parcels so she can lighten the fuck up. Maybe she’s just angry because she has a permanent resting bitch face.

“Are you going to write on that?” she spat as I asked to borrow the black marker to address a box.

“Yes.” I said quietly when instead I should have been ploughing my sneaker into her angry puckered asshole that looks exactly like her face.

“So what’s the cut off time for parcels here?” I offer one last chance to be polite and courteous to this evil bitch.

“5PM, but you’ll have to be here BEFORE 5.” Nup. Bitch is still bitching as best she can.

Well, fuck you angry old turd of a post office beeuuutch. I’ll take my dicks elsewhere and buy my stamps from someone who at least pretends to give a fuck. I don’t know what your problem is but you need help. I have never encountered someone who is so consistently rude and hasn’t been decked by a customer! It’s not just me you are rude to either, I’ve seen you lash out at other people before me in the queue.

Here’s a hot tip lady. Buy one of my cocks and spend a good week rogering yourself with it and then come back to work and see if you can try a bit harder. FAKE  IT if you have to because even though your day sucks and you are pissed off what whatever it is you are pissed off with, you are ruining perfectly good people’s day in the process. YOU SUCK.

THE END

 

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Duncan McPherson says:

    I think it’s important to tell us all WHERE this lady is, so that we might avoid her – or send people to her in order that they witness surly customer service first hand AND a prime example of a resting bitch face in the wild.

    As I am sure you cannot doxx the woman, I think that at least _I_ need to know, for my own personal reasons of pity, schadenfreude and a long and illustrious history of being treated appallingly at the hands of post office “workers”.

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