In which there may be a teensy bit of foul language

Would you like to know what I fucking hate?

I hate this:

My last job, which I held for ten years or so before some stupid rat fucks decided that they'd move a PC without asking, lose half the cables and string the rest of them all over the floor, put it in an unfinished office full of boxes and furniture then ring my boss and demand that I have it working on Monday and so set me up to trip over said cables and FUCK UP MY KNEE (not that I'm bitter) was a PC technician.

I was a computer and telephone technician for a telemarketing firm that employed hundreds of reps. I started out on the phones. I was their only tech in my state. I'm not exactly the brightest spangle on the strippers g-string, but I'm not stupid. I know a fair bit about how PCs and telephones, and modems and routers and networks works ... erm, work.

I also used to be a customer service rep. I prided myself on my clear speech, pleasant manner, and helpfulness. If I didn't know the answer I made sure I found it out.

So here's what I hate (in case I lost ya back there): I fucking hate having to wait on hold for some fucking imbecile at the fucking phone company (who, by the way, if you ring and say your phone line is down they ask you if it's OK to ring you back ... at home. NO YOU CUNT! My fucking phone is down! That's why I'm talking to your white trash stank-snatch self, you bitch! You have caller ID! Does that LOOK like a Bell Sux number? FUCK!).

I fucking hate having a tinned voice tell me that she's connecting me to one of their hot DSL 'technicians' when I KNOW it's some twat sitting in a cubicle who probably doesn't know how to get the hood open on her fucking Geo and who's reading off a computer screen while flirting with that droopy-trousered, brain-dead, loser two rows over with creepy crawlies in his crotch hair and pot crumbs in his pockets instead of money.

I fucking hate speaking to a bitch whom I cannot understand, whether it's because she's actually in another country doing customer service for my American dollars or whether she's just some dumb getto/trailer park slut who was busy trying to conceive her first 'qualifying person in the household' in middle school instead of attending English class.

But you know what I hate most of all? I hate having to follow meekly along stewing in my own juices while this cunt reads. each. word. off. the. screen ... and fucking tells me to do everything that I tried ALFUCKINGREADY! 'Cause I'm a PC tech. NO SHIT I rebooted my machine! Noooooo ... the bright box with the purty pictures turns off?

"Type in P as in pistachio, I as in iguana, N as in nautical (what the Blue Fuck ever happened to teaching the military call sign alphabet?), G as in grievance ..."

PING?! You want me to open a DOS window and PING something? Just fucking SAY SO. Oh and learn English before you say so, cause you may have told me to let Hill*ry "commie bitch" Clint*n eat my pussy for all I fucking know at this point. I haven't understood every third word you've said.

But you know what the best part is?

She finally checked the maintenance reports. Yep. The DSL was down temporarily in my area.

Maybe she'll catch the creepy crotch crawlies from Loser Boy.

I can only hope.