… you cock juggling thunder cunt!
Argh.
So, I’m a little annoyed.
I just got back from a client’s office. I do low-level tech stuff - nothing too high powered, mostly just basics for small businesses who can’t afford somebody high powered. Said client has been having network problems sporadically for the last three days, and their LAN completely died today.
I spent two hours narrowing down the possibilities, making sure that I checked off each possible contributor to the problem before telling them they needed new hardware, because their ethernet switch had died. I did my fuckin’ due diligence, and gave them the smartest, most effective answer they were going to get. I also told them that if they called the guy who installed the switch, there was a chance it might still be under warranty - they only had the install done in September, after all.
They called their provider, who informed them in no uncertain terms that there is no warranty for parts or labor provided - if it’s broke, they’re fucked. Okay - well and good. Shitty service, but I’m not going to badmouth somebody else’s service plan to them, because that’s not my place. Where I get angry is where this arrogant fuckweasel takes it upon himself to inform my client (not ask, INFORM) that he’ll be by “in a couple of hours, or maybe tomorrow, to diagnose the problem.”
This is the part where she handed the phone to me. 
I love that part. I was very polite, right up to the point where he broke out “honey” and “sweetheart.” Yes, I know I’m in the south. Yes, I know I’m female. Yes, I know I’m not sixty. None of those things excuse an incredibly unprofessional attitude in a professional situation - and they certainly don’t excuse second-guessing my work because it makes your dick feel big! I understand that you don’t want to be held at fault for installing faulty hardware. I don’t care; that’s not my problem. I understand that you’d like to come out looking like the Big Man Who Saves The Day. Once again, I don’t care - that’s not my problem. I have done my work, and I have the proof to show it.
Your switch is fucked. I am going to replace it. I am fixing what you failed to check in the first place when you sold them a refurbished unit. I don’t give a shit that you want to “double-check,” and I am certainly not going to recommend that they approve your fee for going to fucking Office Depot to buy another one! What I am going to do is rant here, instead of in their office, and come out looking polite and professional and smelling like roses, while you stomp your feet and insist that it’s not your fucking fault, like some spoiled 8 year old who’s been denied his damned pudding cup.
So here’s your pudding cup, Sweetheart - go sit in the fucking corner where you belong, and don’t try to come play with the big girls again until you can put your big girl panties on and do things right.
