One bourbon, one scotch, and one mav

I started keeping a personal journal again today. I just need somewhere to vent. There’s so many things I desperately need to post here, just for the catharsis, but can’t because they’re all relating to customers. And I don’t want to get fired. It was a very long day today. Almost all of it was spent on the phone. I’d like to share this snippet from my journal for the day with everyone.

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Have you ever been somehow engaged in conversation with someone before when it strikes you that you absolutely, positively, beyond the shadow of a doubt, hate them? And I don’t mean hate, like “They never give me enough hotsauce packets” hate, but “I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger” hate. Wish they would take a flying brick to the face and die, bleeding out, on a busy street while people indifferently walk around them? Want desperately to get up one morning, read the paper, and find that someone broke into their home and tortured them to death mere yards away from the salvation of a neighbor’s house or passing car, wondering if you’d be shocked more by the article or by the warm, comfortable feeling that washes over you - because you know, deep down, they were so utterly without worth that no matter what the violence required to remove them from the world the math still ends up on the side of “better that they’re gone.”

I didn’t know I could feel such animosity toward a person. I really didn’t. I mean, there’s a lot of motherfuckers out there I wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire, but this is a new level of hate for me.