Dear Neighbors at the End of the Street:
Yes, the ones with that gorgeous BMW M3 Coupe that hasn’t moved from the driveway in months. Those are the ones. First, why isn’t that car in the garage? I see you cleared out enough crap to squeeze the Porsche in but surely that BMW is worth more than the old carpet and plywood that seems to be taking up it’s spot in under a roof. At any rate, since you haven’t driven it in months, I wonder if I might borrow it for a week or two, just to blow the three inches of pollen and dust off of it?
Your Envious Neighbor
Dear Woman in Front of me on the way to work Today:
Please surrender your driver’s license, car keys, and rights to walk amongst the human race as soon as possible. As we sat in traffic this morning, I might have overlooked the 30 second lag as the cars in front of you sped off and you hunted around the car for your cigarette and lighter. I know that’s what you were looking for, because once you started going a puff of smoke filled your 1984 Corolla. Also, I might have overlooked it when you accidentally dropped that hard-fought for cigarette out of the narrow slit of window you were ashing from, unbuckled your seatbelt, opened the door, and got halfway out to retrieve it–causing us to miss the green light altogether. On a good morning, I would even have overlooked that you cruised to the interstate at 20 MPH in a 40 zone. I may not even have been terribly bothered when you STOPPED at the end of the on ramp and waited for someone to wave you into traffic rather that merging like a normal person. And I might have shrugged off that you never got over 40 mph once you were on the interstate. But the combination of all these things together, topped off with your weaving between lanes as you attempted to balance the GALLON JUG of tea you were drinking, pushed me entirely over the edge today. So if I ever see your flat hair, your huge pores, your cigarette, or your tea in my line of site again, I will gut you like a fish.
You’ve been warned,
The Guy Behind You This Morning
Dear Banking Customer Service Supervisors:
You need to rethink how you do things. Really. When I call to make a change of address (since your automated system couldn’t understand me) I really do not want to have to tell the person on the other end “NO” three times before she stops trying to talk me into whatever fraud monitoring service you are offering. I realize it’s free for thirty days, but I don’t want to have to call back to cancel it. Because then I’ll have to go through the same thing with whatever insurance product, branded card, or balance transfer crap you are offering then. No means no.
And, really? Do you save THAT much sending call centers overseas? Let me just relay my recent conversation. All I wanted to know was the interest earned on my money market account for the past 12 months. This used to be readily available online, but isn’t anymore. “Sabrina” quoted me an amount. “Is that for this year so far, or for the past twelve months?” I asked.
“Yes, sir, you are correct.”
“You are correct sir.”
“About what? Is that year to date, or past 12 months?”
Can you understand my frustration? Please do better. Thanks.
Your Disgruntled Customer