*Cough*

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of the spam-suckin-trailer-trash meth heads for this screaming sinus infection. I blame them for being the cause of all of the new regulations which deny me access to over-the-counter decongestants. I know, I know, that horse has been dead for a long time but the laws must not be working, they're still making meth and I'm sitting here churning snot all day.

Moving on...

Bossman didn't speak to either me or my coworker all day. Instead, he sent us emails whenever he felt the need to communicate. It's most likely due to the major screw up he performed yesterday, which lead to my major blow up. Don't strut around all day, acting all superior, saying, "let me take care of it, I'll get results" if you're not going to actually handle it. Especially when it's my customer and your lack of handling "it" results in my customer having a melt down and reaming my hindend sideways for a good thirty minutes.

I really won't appreciate it. I may even, in your presence, go over your head to the GM and tell him that if he doesn't do something about the current situation, we're going to be out of business in the next six months.

I kicked into Turbo Bitch mode without any hormonal influence at all.

I'm really not a hateful person. Honest. I can actually be quite cuddly and a freakin' joy to be around. But sometimes, a girl's gotta hike up her granny panties, grab the situation by the cajones and straighten a few people out.

I'm off to find some cold meds or allergy stuff or something. If you need me, I'll be beside a mountain of tissues on the couch, with a blankie, some hot tea and the remote, watching last night's airing of Craig Ferguson doing his thing.