![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Mailman came by. No real mail of importance. Which leads me to...
Dear HR Person at Former Place of Employment,
Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't last Friday payday? And if it was, in fact, payday doesn't that mean that I should have received a paycheck? Friday was five days ago.
Where's my money, Fork-Tongued HR Human?
Why do you assume that I'm going to make the twenty minute drive back into town to pick up the check when you made me fill out nine hundred different documents at the time we signed my resignation all stating my current address and implying that you would be sending my final paychecks to me?
Will you pay for my gas to drive out there? No. I think not.
Humbly yours,
Former Customer Service Wench
And while I'm in this kind of a mood...
Dear Pervy Guy at the Laundromat,
Just because I'm not wearing a wedding ring does not mean I'm single. Also, even if I wasn't married, there are not enough mind-altering substances on the planet to make me want to be seen in public with you, much less have sex with you.
You will not be able to tempt me with offers of pre-paid washers and free detergent.
The forty minutes I spend staring at the dryer is not an invitation to talk. I'm not doing it to spend time with you. (And while we're on the subject, just why are you hanging out in the laundromat every single time I go to do my laundry? Don't you have something better to do?) I'm doing it because the thought of leaving my unmentionables alone in the same building as you creeps me out and I'm standing guard.
No, the attention does not flatter me.
Please, find a new hobby.
The woman who may or may not have mace hidden in her laundry basket. You don't know.
Dear HR Person at Former Place of Employment,
Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't last Friday payday? And if it was, in fact, payday doesn't that mean that I should have received a paycheck? Friday was five days ago.
Where's my money, Fork-Tongued HR Human?
Why do you assume that I'm going to make the twenty minute drive back into town to pick up the check when you made me fill out nine hundred different documents at the time we signed my resignation all stating my current address and implying that you would be sending my final paychecks to me?
Will you pay for my gas to drive out there? No. I think not.
Humbly yours,
Former Customer Service Wench
And while I'm in this kind of a mood...
Dear Pervy Guy at the Laundromat,
Just because I'm not wearing a wedding ring does not mean I'm single. Also, even if I wasn't married, there are not enough mind-altering substances on the planet to make me want to be seen in public with you, much less have sex with you.
You will not be able to tempt me with offers of pre-paid washers and free detergent.
The forty minutes I spend staring at the dryer is not an invitation to talk. I'm not doing it to spend time with you. (And while we're on the subject, just why are you hanging out in the laundromat every single time I go to do my laundry? Don't you have something better to do?) I'm doing it because the thought of leaving my unmentionables alone in the same building as you creeps me out and I'm standing guard.
No, the attention does not flatter me.
Please, find a new hobby.
The woman who may or may not have mace hidden in her laundry basket. You don't know.
Tags: