Today, I encountered waves of stupidity so deep, so painful, so astounding, it made me doubt my own place on this planet earth.
And it led me to think-maybe I deserve this? Maybe my inner, negative, angry voice is what is bringing me all these dealings with fucking idiots?
It’s me? Maybe?
I don’t know.
I read a lot about the law of attraction, the hip-before-the-recession concept that you get what you sow, emotionally. If you’re always negative and pissy, you’ll get negative pissiness back. If you are rich, grateful, and happy, you’ll get that in return, too. It’s not a new concept, and to some extent it’s blatantly true that you get what you sow in terms of your dealings with others and your frame of mind and so on and so forth. So I started to think maybe I’m dealing with idiots because I’m an idiot. Or maybe everyone disappoints me because I assumed they’d do so from the start. Except…all the idiots I’m dealing with are strangers. I don’t start my dealings with people I don’t know in a negative frame of mind; at least, I don’t think I do. So is everyone in the world an idiot? Or am I just unlucky?
If you read my posts from last week, you’ll remember the long list of mind-boggling interactions I talked about. From restaurants to the post office, every interaction I had last week with a company or stranger went horribly awry. I had an amazing weekend, and started off the new week feeling pretty good. Everything is going to get sorted out, I thought. I’m going to turn my luck around. Everything is going to go great.
And yesterday, things were fine. Sure, the dog we’re babysitting acted like an asshole all day and it was sweltering hot outside and I spent most of the day working on this laptop (I hate days where I’m mostly on the computer-it makes me feel like a robot), but at the end of the day it was still a pretty good day. I got some bikinis in, a new pair of shoes, and the dresses Stefan bought me for my birthday. I ate hummus. I got high. I made some money. I had a roof over my head and access to clean water. A charmed life.
Today I woke up feeling mostly the same-pretty good. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and did the dishes. I straightened up. I ate some raisin bran. Then, I decided to check on some open issues I am dealing with for work, one of them being something I discussed in one of my posts last week re: a missing package. I sent this lady a dress at the beginning of the month. Two weeks later, she still didn’t have it so she contacted me. I spent literally hours on the phone last week trying to track this package down, only to finally be transferred to the supervisor at my local post office. He told me he had exactly 24 hours to get me an answer on where the package was (either delivered but never scanned, or lost forever, or undelivered) or his supervisor would get on his ass. I said, great. So the latest I’ll hear from you is Thursday? He said absolutely and asked me to email him all the details that he should have already had since he had read me off the recipient’s name and the tracking number. I looked past this since I didn’t mind typing the info again for the 1,000th time, just as long as this motherfucker got back to me with a solid answer. The only thing was…I knew this guy wasn’t going to get back to me on time or with any actual answer. By his voice and manner of speaking, I could tell this guy was unreliable. Wouldn’t you know it, Thursday goes by and nothing. Friday goes by, nothing. Saturday. Nothing. I emailed him yesterday inquiring on the status of the package, and he writes me back with this:
The station in New York where this package was going delivers over 200 packages a day. They are pretty sure they delivered the package but forgot to scan it. Have you contacted the recipient to see if they’ve gotten it yet?
Steven X. Delacruz (<- REAL NAME FOR HATE MAIL PURPOSES)
I responded in a calm and courteous manner that OF FUCKING COURSE I had contacted the recipient to see if she had gotten the package. In fact, the contact was the RECIPIENT getting a hold of ME because the package HAD NOT BEEN DELIVERED. All of this was in the original email I had sent, but I didn’t bring it up as I knew it was a lost cause. I then asked him to tell me what I needed to do to get reimbursed for the package, since the FAQ “Missing Package” page on USPS.com didn’t say shit. This was Monday morning all of this transpired, and it’s now Tuesday evening and not even a “I’ll get back to you” reply email. Nothing. Now I’m going to have to call this piece of shit tomorrow and talk to his I’m sure equally moronic supervisor to see what to do about this.
See? Am I the world’s biggest asshole for assuming that I’m going to be forced to deal with another idiot?
But I’m not done with the post office, you see. I mailed a girl a dress a while back and it didn’t fit her. I mailed her a pre-paid return mailing envelope so she could return the dress to me for a refund. This was very nice of me since I don’t accept returns. She mailed it back to me last Monday. It’s now Tuesday and I still don’t have it. First Class mail is supposed to take 2-3 days on average, and a WEEK at the very most. The girl who sent it to me has been really annoying about the whole thing, which makes this 10x as annoying as it would be otherwise. She checks in with me every single day, sometimes twice a day, to see if I’ve gotten the dress back so I can refund her, even though I told her I’d let her know the very SECOND I got it back. Mind you, I sold this dress for less than $10 including shipping. I mean, I’ve been dead BROKE many a time in my life so I know what it feels like to desperately want and need 10 measly bucks. But seeing as how the dress she bought was a frilly floral dress with a bow tie at the neck, something tells me this girl is less desperate for money and just downright obnoxious.
So she emails me today as usual to see if I received the package. Her email was sent at the ironic time of roughly 3 minutes after I had just been bitching about not having it yet to Stefan. Because he is a great man, he even goes to see our flamboyantly gay, fake-eyelash wearing landlord named David* to see if any packages for us had been given to the office for any reason, although of course the answer was no. So I open the email to tell this girl for the 20th time NO I STILL DON’T HAVE IT BUT I’LL LET YOU KNOW THE FUCKING NANOSECOND I DO YOU STUPID TEXAN CUNT when I see she’s saying the item was delivered according to the tracking number. Impossible, of course, since it wasn’t in the mailbox. I type the tracking # into USPS.com and see that the package is listed as “still in transit”, so I write this back to the girl and offer to send a screenshot so she can see what I’m seeing since we have differing accounts of what we’re seeing on USPS.com. I write this message to her like I write all my fucking email messages-nicely, trying to be as unassuming and polite as possible. I then go back and look at the tracking details and notice this package has gone from
LOS ANGELES, CA
to BELL GARDENS, CA
to NEW JERSEY, NJ
to BELL GARDENS, CA
to LOS ANGELES, CA
to BELL GARDENS, CA.
Is your mind being boggled? No? It should be. Why the sweet fuck would the post office send a package to over DOUBLE the CITIES it needed to be in to get where it’s supposed to be going? And it’s been SCANNED in at every city, so it’s not like it’s just stuck in some mail guy’s truck or behind a box in an airplane or something. It’s actively seeing America without any goddamn point!
I’ve had this happen before, and it boggles my mind every time. The post office is really, honestly, one of the saddest organizations I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m literally tempted on a daily basis to apply for a job there just so I can try to fix it.
I check my email again and
Retard The Girl has responded saying USPS.com shows it’s been delivered because it says “delivery confirmation” on the right hand side of the screen. I look at the page, already knowing that the phrase “delivery confirmation” is indeed on the right hand side of the screen…under “features”. Because it’s a feature you pay for. Delivery confirmation. It’s a feature, under the word “features” on the right hand side of the screen. The “status” of the package is “still in transit”. “Still in transit” is the package’s status. Yes. Next to the phrase “delivery confirmation” which is under “features”.
Very easy to understand.
I write her back and tell her the phrase “delivery confirmation” being under the word “feature” is simply informing one that I paid the astounding $0.19 to be told when the package was delivered. What she needs to look for is the word “DELIVERED” under “status” where it CURRENTLY FUCKING READS “in transit”. I write this nicely and in an apologetic tone so she doesn’t think I am mocking her for being an idiot, even though she clearly is one.
She writes me back telling me I’m wrong and it says “delivery confirmation” because it was delivered.
I email her a screen shot of a package I sent that WAS delivered and tell her I’ll LET HER KNOW WHEN I GET THE GODDAMN PACKAGE.
Am I the world’s biggest asshole for hoping this stupid person trips and breaks their neck on a flight of stairs to prevent them from procreating and passing on their moronic genes to another generation of people who don’t know what the word “feature” means?
Last week, I found a reduced wholesale listing for 8 pairs of leather shorts from a fancy brand I had my eye on for 2 months. The listing started at $300, then went down to $200, then was listed at $100. At $100, I was ready to buy. I carefully read the listing and did some comparison shopping. The shorts looked like leather, but I was pretty confident they were polyurethane. They were LISTED as leather, though, so I sent the seller an email asking them in they were leather or PU. No response. I checked the listing the next day to just buy them, and it had been removed. I figured the seller didn’t know how to alter the listing to correct the material from leather to PU (I had determined without any doubt the items were not leather), so I sent the seller another message telling them I’d like to buy the lot as listed if the items were still available. A couple of days go by and the seller writes back saying they’re still available. I write back saying I want them and to invoice me on PayPal. I wait a couple of days. No invoice or email. I write back again. The seller asks me again if I want the whole lot. YES I fucking reply. PLEASE INVOICE ME FOR THE TOTAL AS PER THE REFERENCED eBAY LISTING FOR THE STARTING BID AND SHIPPING COST.
I check my PayPal today and there is an invoice for almost $300 goddamn dollars. I write the seller back and tell him he’s been HORRIBLE to deal with and that the invoice should have been $99 plus $14 in shipping per the referenced listing. When I cancel the invoice on PayPal, the memo I leave for him is “you’re an idiot”.
I really wanted those fucking shorts, though.
Am I the world’s biggest asshole for telling this guy he’s an idiotic piece of shit?
Also today, someone was supposed to drop by to pick up a mannequin I listed on Craigslist. This person emailed me yesterday to arrange a pickup time. They asked me to text them at 818-915-0000. I did. They emailed me again to ask me if I could text them. I emailed them back after checking the number and told them I had. They emailed me back and said they hadn’t gotten a text. They asked me to text the same number, only they gave me a different number. My inner Sterner told me to tell this person to fuck off, but I am greedy and want to sell said mannequin immediately so I text the new number and the guy tells me he’ll be at our place between 1 and 2 p.m. tomorrow (which is today) to pick the thing up. I confirm and tell him to give us atleast a 30 minute heads up when he actually leaves his house so i can be 100% sure we’re home (since we have to walk the dog, go to the post office, etc). He agrees.
Today, he texts me at 2 p.m. to tell me he’s on his way. I text back to ask him when his estimated time of arrival is since we need to run an errand (remember, his 1 p.m. to 2 p.m. window of time we allocated for him is gone). He says he’ll be at our place around 3:30. This is perfect. Stefan and I run our errand and are back at exactly 3:27 p.m. At 4 p.m., I text the guy to see where he is. No answer. I am annoyed at this, but not furious since I am used to LA traffic and am also used to every single person in this shit eating town underestimating how long it will take them to get somewhere. I assume he’ll be parking any minute and calling me. Stefan tells me he’s going to leave around 4:30 p.m. to go do shit with his friend. At this moment in time, I realize the guy isn’t coming and I’m not going to care anymore. I tell Stefan to have a great time. 4:30 comes and Stefan leaves. At 5 p.m., the guy calls me at leaves me a voicemail (I didn’t hear the phone ring) telling me he’s downstairs.
AT FIVE FUCKING P.M.
HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AT THREE FUCKING THIRTY P.M.
THAT IS ONE HOUR AND THIRTY MINUTES LATE
THAT IS INSANE
THAT IS CATASTROPHIC
THAT IS THE RUDEST SHIT I’VE EVER HEARD IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
HE DIDN’T CALL TO TELL US HE’D BE LATE
I call the asshole back to tell him to fuck off, but it doesn’t even ring (I hate when phones do that) so I text him. I say
IT’S 5 P.M. YOU MORON. YOU SAID YOU’D BE HERE AT 3:30. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’D STILL BE INTERESTED IN DEALING WITH SOMEONE LIKE YOURSELF AT THIS POINT?
THEN I ADD IN A SECOND TEXT
THANKS FOR WASTING EVERYONE’S TIME, IT WAS A REAL PLEASURE
I am definitely not the world’s biggest asshole for those texts, since what I really wanted to say was GO FUCK YOURSELF YOU STUPID, SELFISH PIECE OF SHIT I HOPE YOUR CHILDREN DIE IN A FIRE AND EVERYTHING YOU LOVE SLOWLY CRUMBLES AROUND YOU UNTIL ONE DAY YOU’RE SO LONELY AND DEPRESSED YOU COMMIT SUICIDE AND FUCK IT UP AND HAVE TO LIVE THE REST OF YOUR DAYS WITH A GUY WHO SMELLS LIKE BOLOGNA WIPING YOUR ASS FOR YOU, YOU FUCK
And then I noticed the number he called from was the second number he gave me, and the number he texted me was the first, “imaginary” number he said didn’t exist. What a complete piece of fuck.
All I know is something has to change. Either I stop dealing with people entirely, I kill myself, or a third, as yet unknown to me option arises. Also, I need to leave Los Angeles.