I came across a person today, while out and about, in Northern Cal. She was moaning about outsourced customer service for a company. She tells me she asked the guy where they were located, because she couldn't understand him. She was told "New Delhi". And then she says to me, "Now where the hell is that, anyway? What country is it? Yammer Yammer Yammer. I'm a proud American and yackety schmackety".
(pril chomps gum and adopts a blonde expression for a moment)
I was all...
"So hey, lady, you ever wonder why the world hates us so much? Because they think we're all like you."
Why do people feel it necessary to stand next to a merchandiser and talk to them? Go away! I don't care! I have a knife!
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