Only three more days

It was naive of me to be optimistic, driving down I-285 at 55 mph exactly on cruise control as irate drivers and semis raced past me, that I wouldn’t have to do this again under such circumstances.  After all, the shop had called me to let me know that my new wheel had arrived, and that as long as I arrived before 5:00 p.m., the new wheel could be installed.  So I left BBC three hours short of a full day despite the fact that I need the hours and I need the money, because having a safe car to drive is slightly higher priority in order to facilitate the pursuit of the hours and money in the future.  Only to be told after waiting for 90 minutes that the wheel they received was not the correct fucking wheel for my fucking vehicle and that I would not be leaving the shop with a new fucking wheel but instead still on the fucking donut that I fucking drove in fucking on.

I like to tell myself that I’m a fairly even-keeled person, but I’m not going to sugarcoat the fact that right now, I’m boiling-over livid.  Under these circumstances, I don’t care if it was the shop, or Mazda, but the bottom line is that there was a mistake somewhere in the process, and I’m the only fucking party that is going to suffer as a result of it. And not just the $450 it’s going to cost me to replace the fucking wheel, but now the fact that I’m going to have to forfeit even more hours at a place that actually pays a good rate, because someone, somewhere, fucked up, due to incompetence, stupidity, or both, and there is going to be no accountability for the situation, and the only one who loses money is fucking me.  Some warehouse idiot motherfucker isn’t going to lose his job over a careless error, and certainly someone at the shop who may or may not have fed Mazda incorrect information isn’t going to lose their job over a potential careless error.  But I have to miss more hours of work in order to take my fucking lemon of a fucking car back to the fucking shop, so that I can get a new fucking wheel put on this piece of shit.  How is this even fair?  I’m not the one who made any mistakes in this situation.  The people who did aren’t going to get their pay docked, and I’m going to not make as much money as I need to, because of them.  I know I’m not fucking perfect, and I make mistakes too, in my profession.  But often times, there are paid proofreaders to ensure that my mistakes don’t go on to cost the end clients a lot of money.  I’m beginning to wonder why other lines of work don’t have proofreaders; it’s becoming transparently apparent that other occupations could use some fuck-up prevention in their process, and the country certainly needs jobs.

I’m a very naive person, apparently.  I give the benefit of the doubt to people far too often, and as a result, I’m often disappointed at the results.  Here’s a New Year’s Resolution for 2011: start assuming more people are fucking idiot retards until proven differently.  Because when the world of strangers inevitably disappoints me, at least I won’t be upset as a result of surprise.

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