An unexpected rant

Good morning! Today I come to you mad as insert the demesne of your choice.

At myself.

Lemme splain. People who won't make their own phone calls, get their own coffee, make their own copies and etc. They torque my sphincter. (HUZZAH! Found a use for it, Tom.)

Get off your lazy, sorry excuse for a human being butt and do it yourself.

I have seen far too many people get someone else to make their calls, fetch coffee and etc.

Last night in the shower I imagined a future POTUS might want to speak to me. The POTUS would have someone else call me on his behalf.

I'd hang up.

I will hang up.

I do hang up on people who feel they are too important to make a phone call for themselves.

You wanna talk to me, YOU call me. Or come by.

So what is causing my posterior constrictions this morning?

The (insert string of expletives) fax machine. I cannot make it work. Can't. I drop the paper in. Punch in the numbers. Hit send. Maybe 1 out of 10 times it goes through.

So, I have to get someone else in the office to send the fax for me.

A simple, basic office machine and I cannot get it to work. It's no harder than making a phone call. Yet, I can't.

Eventually, I will take an axe, a shotgun and a blowtorch to the fax machine. That way, no one will be able to use it and I will have satisfaction, however petty it may be.

Rant over. Resuming good mood and happiness immediately.