Fuck. Our mortgage got sold. To Wells Fargo. I thought I was done with those idiots when we bought our new place. I liked our mortgage company. It was friendly. It didn’t seem to fuck up. Now I’ll be waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Stupid Wells Fargo.
Shit. And fuck.
Aisle 7; you have to get a three-pack.
So OF COURSE I haven’t used either my car or mr emilyforce’s truck for several days. So OF COURSE it has been well below freezing at night since then. So OF COURSE this afternoon I get into my car intending to drive off to get groceries to fix the dish I’m taking to Thanksgiving dinner with friends, which I am OF COURSE planning on driving two hours to, and OF COURSE I discover that the battery’s dead. And OF COURSE so is the one in the truck. And OF COURSE when we moved recently I lost the cord to the gizmo I have that plugs into the wall for awhile, then jumps your battery. And OF COURSE I live in a small town where the garage closed at noon today and won’t be open tomorrow.
Fuckity fuck fuck! Fucking auto batteries fucking with my holiday!
I thought it would be a good thing when there were too few workers for the existing jobs. I thought that things would be much better for employees then; that employers would start treating employees like gold. I am starting to realize that things are not better for workers, because employers are simply expecting their existing employees to do more, and this is only going to get worse. On the plus side, though, if you don’t do enough (in your employer’s eyes) and don’t let your employer browbeat you into thinking you need to do more, you probably won’t get fired because there’s no one to replace you.
A pre-emptive rant for Black Friday - all you 'Murkins, try not to take down the entire Interac system for all of North America this time, okay?
Dude, if you’re going to ring a bell for an obviously Christian charity, and you’re wearing a Santa hat and a button large enough to serve the last supper that says “I (heart) Jesus,” don’t tell me “Happy Holidays.”
It isn’t what you mean, is it? No! You probably don’t give a reindeer’s scrotum for the other holidays, so just go ahead and say “Merry Christmas,” you disingenuous, candy-cane-riding motherfucker!
Dear FIL,
Hubby asked you to do one thing when he left England. He said “Please keep an eye on any mail that comes for me, and open it or forward it to me.”
He wasn’t anticipating much. Just in case. Perhaps some notifications from his old bank/credit card. He couldn’t close them when he left, because there was a small balance on his card, but he’s been working to pay that off since he’s been working over here. The bank wasn’t willing to send statements overseas, so the easiest thing was to get dad to look after them.
You haven’t opened any mail that’s come for him in six months. Then you call him last night to say “Oh, I just opened your mail and you’ve got a bill from the CC company that says you’re over 600 pounds overdrawn”. It appears that some account fees or something went onto the card, it’s been attracting interest, there’s been non payment fees etc. etc. etc.
600 pounds is $1400 in local parlance. We don’t have that sort of money just lying around to send overseas right now. Especially not a month before Christmas! Had you opened the mail at least two or three months ago, we may have been able to catch it when it was somewhere closer to 100 pounds or so. Now hubby’s freaking the fuck out because we can’t really do anything about this debt without incurring a debt over here, it’s just going to keep incurring interest unless we pay it off right now and he’s afraid that the bank is going to fuck his credit up over there or possibly even try to chase him for the money over here.
So thanks, FIL. For five minutes of your time three months ago, we could have avoided what is now certainly going to take us several months and a lot of money to fix.
I just started this job about a month ago and so far I like it. I was tired today, because I got off at 8 last night and had to be back in at 8 this morning. I still worked. So you, co-worker, come in for your 12-8 shift pissing and moaning about how tired you are. You had yesterday off. It’s not my fault you got up at the crack of dawn to go shopping with your mother. So you sat there for most of the four hours I worked with you and snoozed over your sales flyers, or talked on the phone, and let the rest of us work.
Fuck you.
I sincerely hope this is not a sample of things to come.
Stop complaining; I’m presuming she at least allowed you to use your mouse. 