Once again, fearless reader, I have been forced to tackle corporate America. And we�re talking a full-contact, body-slamming, knee-spiking tackle, here. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have to mail a package back to its distributor.
This is just one of the many, many glamorous duties of a receptionist/admin/sales assistant (read: thankless lackey). When bullshit jobs need to be done, give them to the temp! That seems to be the motto around here. And believe you me, this particular task is the very apex of thanklessness.
To begin with, this isn�t the first time I�ve had to perform this very task. A few months ago, we received a large box of light bulbs from The Evil Lion Distributing, Inc of Reisterstown, MD, which the addressee claims he never ordered. Unfortunately, the addressee doesn�t speak very much English, so it falls to me (the thankless lackey) to call The Evil Lion Distributing, Inc, and have the package removed.
Only The Evil Lion Distributing, Inc, isn�t too jazzed about taking the light bulbs back. Last time, I had to call them and bitch them out, which I wasn�t too comfortable with for a number of reasons. I don�t do conflicts very well, you guys, and these people were all about the conflict. I mean, I just wanted to return a package and they acted like I was asking if I could shoot dope directly into their grandmother�s left eyeball or something! Calm down, you addle-pated rhesus monkeys. They�re just friggin� light bulbs.
Secondly, and this is a little embarrassing, I don�t know how this package return thing is supposed to work! It�s a whole complicated process of calling people and filling out forms and arranging for pick-up and blah blah blah, and frankly? I don�t want to waste my time with any of it. And I shouldn�t have to, either! I mean, they screwed up! Why should I be the one to suffer because of it?? Which leads me to my third point. Dude, I had nothing to do with this whole situation from the get-go, and I have no idea what to say to these people.
And maybe that�s why they make me do it. I just called The Evil Lion Distributing, Inc of Reisterstown, MD and explained to them that we�d received a package we hadn�t ordered and I wanted to return it, and the woman went all Carrie on me. Light fixtures shaking, electric bolts shooting from the phone, the whole business. She got all snappish and started reading out of her captain�s log, or whatever the hell, saying shit like, �Well, he called on 3/26 and placed this order, and confirmed with order number 2050-377, and requested the U-tubes be sent and yakkity yakkity blah blah blah, I�m going to sacrifice and eat a baby!�
So I just cut to the chase, like, �Listen, sister, I don�t know or care about all that crap. Whether he actually ordered it and then suffered a psychotic break, or you guys are all a bunch of brain-dead ass-punchers is completely immaterial to me. All I know is that we�ve got boxes of shit that we don�t want, and they�re going back to you guys. So give me a call tag, or whatever the hell it is I need, or I�ll come to you in your sleep and cut out your small intestine.�
That�s when she got really curt with me and told me she�d have to �look into it� and �call [me] back�. Whatever. If they don�t take the boxes back, it also doesn�t mean shit to me. They�re not my fucking responsibility.
Addendum: I just got call #863 from the addressee, checking to see if I�d returned the boxes yet. I swear he�s asked me about that six times a day since they arrived on Wednesday (note how long it�s taken me to get around to taking care of them -- can you tell how much I don�t want to do this?). Like, for real, dude. Calm down. They�ll go back when (and if) they go back. If it�s so freaking urgent, you call them. I couldn�t care any less if I tried.
Well. That's encouraging!
