Cause I can't yell at them..

I'm hot, wearing a polyester uniform missing all but two shirt buttons, working two 16hr shifts back to back and trying to do my gorram job. I don't CARE if you used to live here. I don't CARE if you know the first three digits of the gatehouse phone number. I don’t CARE that you have frozen food in the back. I'M trying to do MY job, which is screen these people's guests, and if YOU didn't make prior arrangements this is not my problem. I'm trying to help you ANYWAY.

I CALLED the number you gave me, which could be anyone. So while I'm grilling this person to make sure he's who I need him to be to finagle YOU inside, how about you not gripe and moan eh? I don’t need to let you in. I can turn your grumpy ass around and make HIM, who IS on the guest list, come down and escort you in. But I'm not doing that, am I? No, I'm trying to help you. So how about you smile, wait patiently, and be thankful that someone isn't cutting corners and letting just anyone in here.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Star Trek Diplomas: All of them. I think.

De Groote Museum

Classroom Architect