Real Bitch?

In my last post, I expressed the fact that I was feeling like a real bitch. I have since discovered that even on my worst day I am nothing compared to some other people. Yesterday I was insulted and verbally abused by a complete stranger, whom I had talked to for a total of 5 minutes and only in an attempt to be as helpful as possible. She stopped me in mid sentence with "God, just stop talking, just shut your mouth," and then went on an angry, spiteful tirade wherein SHE accused ME of just talking and talking without ever listening or allowing her to speak. When she paused for a breath, I explained that I was not in dispatch and therefore was not the appropriate person to answer her questions, to which she responded that I was the stupidest person she had talked to all week, that she didn't know how I even managed to get through my days, and that she didn't care WHO I was, or what position I had with this company, she wanted me to just shut up and listen, and then answer her questions. There simply is no talking to this kind of person, I've discovered. I have never actually come in contact with someone who was so immediately hostile.

By the end of the day, both my coworkers and I had each had to talk to her several times apiece. She had me so full of adrenaline that I thought I would actually be sick when I came down. The guy who booked the move got so upset that he was one step below yelling at her, and my boss almost cancelled the move because this woman was so abusive... to EVERYONE. The guys who were actually out loading her fiance's belongings (that's right, it isn't even her move...) came back to tell us that she had insisted on getting the phone number of our boss in Omaha, because the only explanation why I am so stupid is that I must be on drugs, and she intends to demand that I be tested.

So, folks, on any given day that I don't make a blog post, you can be assured it is because I am either standing in a corner wondering dully how to get out since I don't see any doors directly in my line of sight, and after all, I'm really too stupid to be able to survive a day all the way through on my own, or I'm in a drugged stupor somewhere, drooling on my ill-kempt clothes (too dumb to work the washing machine, you know) and giggling every once in a while in a slow, incoherent wheeze.