The B.S. Has now Been Cubed.

Dear Incredibly Stupid Salesman:

Should you choose to visit my store again under the guise of "helping" me, I would appreciate it if you call first so I can swallow a bottle of sleeping pills and bang my head continually on some paving stones just prior to your arrival. It would be so much easier to communicate if we were on the same level.

I understand that you are higher up in the corporate family tree than I am, but you are not my superior in any sense of the word, a fact which you may wish to consider before you try any more of your hilariously misguided management techniques out on me. Also you stupid twunt, telling me that I am the "best employee they've ever had" sounds ridiculous and false enough on its own (especially after you have just read off a laundry list of things that I am doing incorrectly), and in the future should not be followed up with an insult to the last person who held my position, especially since we are good friends and she got me the job you fucking jackass.

Next, when you are confronted by a person whom you have insulted, rather than backpedaling awkwardly and trying to shift the focus to what an idiot I am, you may want to ask yourself how often this person and I might talk to each other, considering the fact that we work together every day for several hours you little bitch.

Also, before you tell a person that their co-workers don't respect them and will not help them, you may want to spend some time in the store and see just how much those jobs are interrelated, how much they do help each other, and again, how much these people talk to each other you feckless twit.

In conclusion, RTFM motherfucker. I have read it, and I read you the minute I saw you, and I have no patience for stupidity. I am here to do my job (which, despite your occasional presence in my life, I very much enjoy) and you are getting in my way.

Thanks!

Sincerely,
Hey Bartender