|Friday, Jan. 30, 2004 || PMSing|
So, earlier this week Zen said she was PMSing. It must be my turn now. I am just on the edge of being witchy at every turn.
Don't mess with me today, heh.
Yesterday I e-mailed the admin assitant for a former employer asking for the total for something we are self-paying (ok, yeah, so I am trying to be a bit vague here, bear with me). All I asked for was a simple total so I could pay the freakin' thing. Instead I get a "So-and-so sent you an invoice" reponse. And no total.
Hello!? If I had the invoice, would I be asking you for the amount?! How difficult is it to simply say, "The amount is $XXX.XX."
Oh, but it is, because as you know, this is the age of "pass the buck". The prevailing attitude is, "I can't help you because that's not in my job description." God forbid you might break a sweat or something with the effort of opening Quickbooks or looking at a checkbook register.
Okay, rant over.
See what I mean? Totally PMSing.
Frustration number two. Found out yesterday you have to have a stinkin' permit to do just about anything to your home here. Yeah, you need a new toilet to whiz in, go to the courthouse and pay $30+ so you can install it.
Government beauracracy, gotta love it, eh, Pam.
And how do you keep a cat from flicking a door stop so that it makes a loud "BLLLLLLIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG" sound?
Yup, most definitely PMSing...
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