Note to the Supremo Asshat Sales Manager at ABC Warehouse: I don't appreciate your freaking attitude. I am thankful that the salesman I talked to was of a higher class than yourself...even if he couldn't work the TV I was looking at...which is strange since he told me TVs are his specialty. Something tells me that washers would've been his specialty if I were shopping for one of those...but I digress. After completing my browsing, where I had told said salesman that I was price checking and I'd have to check with my husband, I was headed out the door to the next place on the list. This is the moment that I was slapped in the face by your dumb ass comment of, "What's the matter, ma'am? You have to wait for your husband to pick a TV? Can't you make that decision yourself?" And you know what? You said it in a rather snotty tone...that was borderline bitchy. Gotta tell you, that did nothing for me. In fact, it helped make my decision about purchasing the TV much easier...it eliminated the possibility of buying the TV from your store. It turns out I could make the decision of which TV to buy by myself. I am capable of deciding things. However, a $700+ purchase is not something that our household takes lightly. A $700+ TV is probably not something you'd want your wife picking out (assuming you kept your trap shut long enough to snag someone of the opposite sex), and buying without your input. We actually bought a TV that cost more than yours...at your nearby competitor...because they treated us respectfully. Your smart mouth cost you the sale. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, jerk.

Posted by Courtney at 7:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Today's posting is short. It's actually a revisiting of a previous Confidential story. Remember the Reckless Grandmother at the post office? If not, you can read the story here.

Think of today as an update of sorts. Today, again at the post office, I saw this lady...with Ben...her charming grandson. (Note: 'charming' in the previous sentence should be read dripping with the most sarcasm you can possibly muster.) Well, I have to tell you, the update on their situation is short...she's still an irresponsible imbicile. Turns out Ben won't just come over and stand nicely next to her...even if she calls his name a half a million times. I guess one has to be a little more hands-on and actually go retrieve the child instead of calling, "Ben, come over here. It's our turn. Ben it's our turn. Ben come here. It is our turn, Ben." As soon as I saw her grandparenting tactics I immediately remembered, quite vividly that I had posted about her before. It's nice to know that almost 7 months later things haven't changed one bit. At least little Ben has some consistency, right?!

Posted by Courtney at 4:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Note to the guy at the bank: Charging $7 to cash a check when you aren't a bank customer is their policy. It's their rule. No amount of arguing and bitching will change their policy of charging to cash said check. All you accomplished is belittling a very nice lady, and making yourself look like an asshole. If you wanted to cash the check without having the charge, perhaps you should have gone to your own bank. Would that not have been easier than holding up the entire lobby for ten minutes so you could tell her all the reasons why she should cash it without charging you? Didn't you notice that she didn't care that it was drawn at that bank? You aren't a bank customer...the check writer is....therefore you are subject to a $7 charge. My favorite part was when, after ten minutes of complaining, you demanded to speak to the bank manager...boy oh boy were you surprised when she told you that she is, in fact, the bank manager. Found out real quick that she has the final say in charging or not charging you, huh?! Don'tcha just hate when you make a scene about talking to the boss and turns out that you've been bitchin' your head off at her for the last ten minutes? I probably would have just left and went to my own bank...but not you...you stuck around to get your check cashed...minus the $7 check cashing charge, of course.

Posted by Courtney at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

A customer was calling her daughter to come pick her up and give her a ride home...she ended up getting her husband on the phone...she told him, "Please explain to her where I am and how to get here...and tell her to leave right now...tell her to just leave and don't be dickin' around." Don't hold back lady....say how you really feel.

Posted by Courtney at 10:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Note to the jerk who passed me this morning on my way back to work: I was stopped because there was an ambulance coming, idiot. What is it with you people? You know the people I'm talking about...the 'I don't stop for emergency vehicles' people. Do you think that wherever you're going is more important than where that ambulance is going? How arrogant of you, indeed. I have to tell you, this is one of my biggest pet peeves. A friend of mine is married to a police officer, and he has told me that when they are driving somewhere, lights and sirens going, they are focusing three to four blocks ahead of where they are going. They have to do this to spot people like you that don't pull over. So, there they are, responding to an emergency at 60+ miles an hour in a 35 mile an hour zone, and they have to plan for you being in the damn way. Not only were you stupid for not stopping for the ambulance, but you were extra stupid for passing me because I had already stopped for said ambulance. This means you were extra in the way. And you know what? It only would have taken you twenty seconds to stop. All I can think when I see people like you is, "I hope they're not responding to an accident or heart attack call that involves one of your family members," because I expect you'd feel terrible if you were in the way and they were trying to save someone you love. Perhaps you could keep that in mind, because you're hindering their response to a scene that involves someone's loved one, even if it isn't your own.

Posted by Courtney at 8:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Warning: This one is yucky yucky yucky...

Confidential to the lady in line behind us at the ice cream drive thru: People in line ahead of you can see into your vehicle. In saying that, let me also add, it would be most appreciated if you didn't choose that time to inspect your chin for pimples. It would be even more appreciated if you didn't take that opportunity to pick at your chin pimples. Not only are the people in line ahead of you going to see in your vehicle, but come on...you're in public...there are tons of people at an ice cream place in the evening that are watching you pick at and squeeze pimples. How freaking disgusting. Have you no shame? Do you not have a bathroom mirror in which you could take care of your pimple situation? I understand that the natural light may be best for chin pimple inspection and removal, but did you know that you can get a makeup mirror that has a 'natural' light setting? After this went on for approximately five minutes, I began to think that perhaps you didn't mind that people were watching your pimple extractions. I found it distrubing, nonetheless. Also, didn't anyone ever tell you that popping pimples is a sure fire way to get more because you're spreading the grossness that is in the pimple? When I told Larry about this public witnessing of pimple popping, the first thing he said was, "I hope she didn't have a kid in the car." To which I told him that you did, of course, have a kid in the car. His response? "Damn, she's already reproduced...it's too late." But I gotta tell you, the nastiest part was that you grabbed your ice cream cone with your pimple picking paws...and I saw that you didn't wipe your hand off first or anything. Now THAT is nasty.

Posted by Courtney at 10:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Note to the horrible lady on my mom's flight to San Francisco on Wednesday: it is NEVER acceptable to hit another person's child. In fact, you're lucky the child's mom didn't go all crazy and beat the crap out of you. I understand that you were ticked because he touched your red spiral notebook...but come on...he's three years old. Maybe he thought it was a coloring book. He certainly didn't think that some sweet looking little old lady would smack him. The mom made a great point when she advised you to keep your hands off of her kid...and suggested that you tell her if you have a problem with his behavior. But that wasn't enough for you, was it? You had to pick at every little thing this poor three year old did for the next 1000 miles. He was looking at you. He was being too loud. He was casting an evil spell on you. Okay, I made that last one up...but still. From the accounts of all of the other passengers around you, you were the terrible one, not him. He's a child. On an airplane. A curious three year old child. Couldn't you give him a break? One last thing...you know that you're a terrible ogre when a passenger on the flight has to go get a flight attendant to move your seat because he was sick of you picking on this lady's little boy. Heaven help us if you're a grandma...

Posted by Courtney at 9:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

CBT in this case would be everyone's favorite chatty bank teller. I've posted about her once, here. Let me tell you, though, she's so chatty that she deserves another (if not weekly) posting...so here goes...

Note to the chatty teller at the bank: I don't care about your dog. Now don't get me wrong, I love pets. I have two of my own. One of which is an adorable puppy. You know the difference between me and you? I don't bother you with a million stories about how wonderful she is. That, I save for my blog. All I want you to do, especially on a Monday morning when I have four transactions, is to process my damn deposits. I don't need to hear about how the dog likes to chase birds...how you just "don't know what he'll do if he ever catches one"...how your kids can't feed the dog because he's a little scary and a lot bigger than them...how you don't ever take him on walks because he's so strong...how when you tried to take him on a walk and he just pulled your arm out of your socket...how he broke his collar...how he was exhausted from your walk...or about how he stole some bacon from your breakfast table. While this may be interesting to...well to you...it's not interesting to me. I just want to leave my deposit, get my change, cash my check, and be on my merry way. One last tip...when someone gives you a blank...vacant...nobody's home...stare...they're not listening to you...in fact, they've given up on pretending like they're listening to you...that's the prime time to zip your lip.

Posted by Courtney at 3:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Note to the woman who had the nerve to give me the evil eye at dinner: You were the one being RUDE, not me. Receiving a cell phone call in a restaurant is pretty obnoxious...and rude to the others at your table...let alone the rest of the restaurant. After the second call I was a little less forgiving and became substantially more annoyed. I even rolled my eyes behind your back and commented to Larry about the hightened level of your rudeness. I gotta tell ya though...call number three was my breaking point. Now after the first call I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, thinking that perhaps you had a babysitter at home with your kids and needed to be accessible. Or maybe you're an undercover FBI agent that was waiting on a case solving cell phone call...although I'd guess not. I also ruled out the fact that you were a movie star waiting on a call about an audition (fat chance), a sports agent to an NFL player (didn't think so), an on call doctor (most likely not), a fireman (don't see that one happening), an EMS worker (nah), a Secret Service Agent (something tells me that's a no), or the President of Liechtenstein (methinks that's not the case). If any of those scenarios were the case, at least I would have understood the reason for you to be carrying a cell phone, with the ringer turned up (to the volume level of 'bleeding ear'), inside of a restaurant. So after call number three I felt the urge to speak up. Maybe my choice of "GEEZ", which in fairness was said rather loudly...and snottily...wasn't the way to go. Come on though...three calls? In less than ten minutes? I couldn't help myself...and I did feel surprisingly better. Until...you gave me the evil eye. Not only did you give me the evil eye...but you took the effort to turn around in your chair so you could see the person you were delivering the eye to. I must say, though, you didn't accomplish what you set out to do because I found it to be hilarious! It's been a long time since I've received the evil eye...possibly since high school...made my day. What didn't make my day? Having the first restaurant dinner, in a long time, with my husband interrupted three times by your damn cell phone. You're not that important. Trust me.

Posted by Courtney at 1:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Note to the suave guy I saw wearing a wig: It's obvious. Really obvious. I like the fact that you went all out and got the full wig instead of just a hair piece, but please don't walk around as if no one has noticed that you have fake hair. I was in a car and I could tell. In fact, it was my mom who noticed...and she was on the other side of the car. How could I resist looking when she said "wow, check out that guy's rug"? I couldn't. I also replied to her, "It's covering the whole room, not just a section of the room...I think it qualifies as carpet, not a rug." It's too dark for your age, and it's too perfectly placed. Perhaps bald would be the better way for you to go. Wear a hat so you don't get cold. Believe me, hats look better than rugs. Have you seen Donald Trump lately? Case closed.

Posted by Courtney at 7:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Note to Wal Mart: I would be more likely to bring myself to enter your establishment if you had more than one register open at a time. Are you only allowed to have one open at a time? Is there a rule in the Wal Mart handbook that associates shall never open an extra check-out line even when there are 20 people waiting to check-out at a time? I find that it takes me longer to leave your store than it does to shop for a week's worth of groceries. You have plenty of employees...I know you're one of the leading employers in town...so where are they hiding? They're not opening registers. They're not helping people in the pet department. And they're certainly not emptying the trash cans in the restroom. So I ask you Wal Mart, employer of many, PLEASE allow them to open more cash registers. Now I won't get all crazy and request that you have all 35 of your cash registers open at once...we're talking baby steps here. However, it does make me wonder why you have so many when you have no intention of opening them even when the line stretches through the clothes and back to the baby department. Let's start out slow...how about 10 check-outs open at a time? Now that would make my day.

Posted by Courtney at 1:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Note to the irresponsible grandmother I saw with her grandchild at the post office today: Your grandchild may be wonderful and delightful when he's not in public, but if he is splayed out on the post office floor screaming and kicking the person in line behind you, YOU NEED TO STOP HIM. You can't just say "Ben, stand up and quit kicking," a hundred million times without bothering to turn around and see if he has listened to you or not. While we're talking about this, how nasty is it that you let him crawl around on the post office floor in the first place? And before you entered the post office...you know, when he was running away from you on the sidewalk of a very busy street...calling his name fifty times and telling him to stop...didn't work. In the future you'll probably want to give chase in some form because he could've been hit by a car before you called his name for the tenth time. One more thing and then I'll be done with you: Ben needs to be in a car seat...or at the very least he should not be in the front seat. After witnessing this I made sure to tell my mother the following, "If you ever put my four year old, less than 40 pound child, in the front seat of your car where your airbag can kill him...it's probably going to be the last time you babysit." What is wrong with people?

Posted by Courtney at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Note to the chatty teller at the bank: When there are ten people waiting in line on a busy Friday morning, perhaps there should be less talky and more worky. None of us waiting care one stinkin' bit about your cat that you had to give away because it kept going to the bathroom in your garage. Nor do we care about which of your kids is home sick from school. In fact, we don't care if you have a cat that's home sick from school and your kids have been going to the bathroom in the garage. Know what else? I don't care one iota about the fact that the bank won't let you ride your motorcycle to work because it "doesn't look good". I don't mind chitty chatting (anyone who knows me will tell you that), but when there are ten people sardined into a bank lobby it would be nice if you'd take into consideration that we'd like to do our banking and get the heck outta there. Thank you.

Posted by Courtney at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)