Ah yes. My job. I get to deal with the most 'interesting' people on a regular basis. From my favorite client who is more gay than Kenny Chesney (I'm sorry- he just won't admit it) to the young man who was charged (but not yet sentenced, mind you) with second degree murder. Yes. I am privileged.
Today was a day not like the others, although Friday's are usually slower, and I got to meet a new client for the first time. You see, people call, make an appointment, my boss meets with them, then when they bring their retainer fee or pay fees- I meet them officially. So today I got had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Winner* (*name has been changed not to protect the innocent, but to protect my ass- just in case). Mr. Winner walks in, all 27 years of him, and starts doing something with his words that resembles talking. I stop. I stare. WTF is he saying? No. Clue. Okay. He finally says something about wanting to make a payment. Sweet. I got this. 'When did you meet with Brenda?', I ask. He shrugs at me. Okay, so sorry for trying to figure out where to start looking for your information, MY BAD. I do find his consult sheet without much trouble. I ask him how much he's paying. One thousand, therestpaidlatershetoldmetwelvehundred. *blink* *click* Ahhhh... yes. This compilation of white boy and crackhead called earlier this week, rambling on about how if he'd paid in full before September 1st, the fees would be $1,100.00 but since it was after, he just wanted to make sure they were now $1,200.00. Sure. Yeah. Sweet. I also recall how he made me want to shove pencils in my ears from that short phone conversation. And here he was. In the flesh. Rawr. (God, I'm so lying.)
I ask Mr. Winner how he's paying- cash, check, money order... He's lounged back on the couch, like a true gangsta, with $1k in cash on his knee. Sweet. Don't make eye contact... take money. Lemme get you a receipt, I say. I pull out the receipt book, write receipt, and as is our office policy, I put the receipt and cash on the copier to duplicate what was received/given in return. Mr. Winner has jumped up and slithered over at this point and makes a scoffing noise under his breath, 'That's nice. Completely illegal.' I stop. Raise an eyebrow. And say, 'Um, no. Not unless I try to pass it off as real legal tender. It's not illegal at all.' and hand this real catch his receipt. He turns from me, jumps onto the elevator, and in a very 'I TOLD you so' voice, says 'No. I'm pretty sure it's illegal.', of which he only gets about half of the words spoken before I realize that I could very well kill this fabulous person and he would probably never be missed. Yes, I'm judging. I don't care. Dude. He got fired from KFC and Taco Bell. Perhaps that's where the money I held in my hand came from. I don't know. I also don't know where you can go from KFC or Taco Bell as far as employment goes, except perhaps a gas station. What. You can stare at this wide-eyed all you want. But stereotypes exist for a reason sometimes, and Mr. Winner is the reason.
So as this fine gentleman has turned his back to me and is bum rushing the elevator and telling me things that are completely false (for reference:
http://desktoppub.about.com/od/scanninggraphics/a/papermoney.htm
The Dept of Treasury had nothing except copying money in COLOR, and that is legal if it says 'sample' or what not or isn't full sized... but anyway...) and dismissing ME. Yes. I'm better than him. Yes. I'm saying it. Why? Because he was RUDE. When you are rude or just an asshole in general, you ask to be judged. You ask for people to return the same gestures you've extended to them. If he had come in and just been decent- not acted a fool, not tried to argue with me about something petty, not just been a dick- I wouldn't have given two shits about where he worked or didn't work or how many baby mama's he had or where he lived or ANYTHING. However, he didn't. And just like with any client that isn't decent (I'm not saying worship the ground I walk on, it's the Golden Rule, people) I will treat him with nearly the same respect. I can make things VERY easy for you, or I can make things semi-easy for you. Don't get me wrong- I'm going to do my job regardless of how you act. But if you're cooperative and generally nice, I can go the extra mile. If you're not, I'll do what I'm required to do and that's generally it. So you wanna flip the Golden Rule to ME? Fine. Do it. I don't deserve anything more than exactly that- what I deserve. *shrug* I expect nothing more than is expected, make sense? However, I'm NEVER rude off the bat. NEVER. I feel I've explained sufficiently. However, if anyone feels the need to attack me still for what I said, have at it =) I'm not being a blue-blooded-stuck-up-bitch, because I'm flat out not. I'm being HONEST. And if you judge me well, you're no better than what you think I am =D
So here's to Mr. Winner *clink*... a real staple to society and probably a new thorn in my side.
Today was a day not like the others, although Friday's are usually slower, and I got to meet a new client for the first time. You see, people call, make an appointment, my boss meets with them, then when they bring their retainer fee or pay fees- I meet them officially. So today I got had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Winner* (*name has been changed not to protect the innocent, but to protect my ass- just in case). Mr. Winner walks in, all 27 years of him, and starts doing something with his words that resembles talking. I stop. I stare. WTF is he saying? No. Clue. Okay. He finally says something about wanting to make a payment. Sweet. I got this. 'When did you meet with Brenda?', I ask. He shrugs at me. Okay, so sorry for trying to figure out where to start looking for your information, MY BAD. I do find his consult sheet without much trouble. I ask him how much he's paying. One thousand, therestpaidlatershetoldmetwelvehundred. *blink* *click* Ahhhh... yes. This compilation of white boy and crackhead called earlier this week, rambling on about how if he'd paid in full before September 1st, the fees would be $1,100.00 but since it was after, he just wanted to make sure they were now $1,200.00. Sure. Yeah. Sweet. I also recall how he made me want to shove pencils in my ears from that short phone conversation. And here he was. In the flesh. Rawr. (God, I'm so lying.)
I ask Mr. Winner how he's paying- cash, check, money order... He's lounged back on the couch, like a true gangsta, with $1k in cash on his knee. Sweet. Don't make eye contact... take money. Lemme get you a receipt, I say. I pull out the receipt book, write receipt, and as is our office policy, I put the receipt and cash on the copier to duplicate what was received/given in return. Mr. Winner has jumped up and slithered over at this point and makes a scoffing noise under his breath, 'That's nice. Completely illegal.' I stop. Raise an eyebrow. And say, 'Um, no. Not unless I try to pass it off as real legal tender. It's not illegal at all.' and hand this real catch his receipt. He turns from me, jumps onto the elevator, and in a very 'I TOLD you so' voice, says 'No. I'm pretty sure it's illegal.', of which he only gets about half of the words spoken before I realize that I could very well kill this fabulous person and he would probably never be missed. Yes, I'm judging. I don't care. Dude. He got fired from KFC and Taco Bell. Perhaps that's where the money I held in my hand came from. I don't know. I also don't know where you can go from KFC or Taco Bell as far as employment goes, except perhaps a gas station. What. You can stare at this wide-eyed all you want. But stereotypes exist for a reason sometimes, and Mr. Winner is the reason.
So as this fine gentleman has turned his back to me and is bum rushing the elevator and telling me things that are completely false (for reference:
http://desktoppub.about.com/od/scanninggraphics/a/papermoney.htm
The Dept of Treasury had nothing except copying money in COLOR, and that is legal if it says 'sample' or what not or isn't full sized... but anyway...) and dismissing ME. Yes. I'm better than him. Yes. I'm saying it. Why? Because he was RUDE. When you are rude or just an asshole in general, you ask to be judged. You ask for people to return the same gestures you've extended to them. If he had come in and just been decent- not acted a fool, not tried to argue with me about something petty, not just been a dick- I wouldn't have given two shits about where he worked or didn't work or how many baby mama's he had or where he lived or ANYTHING. However, he didn't. And just like with any client that isn't decent (I'm not saying worship the ground I walk on, it's the Golden Rule, people) I will treat him with nearly the same respect. I can make things VERY easy for you, or I can make things semi-easy for you. Don't get me wrong- I'm going to do my job regardless of how you act. But if you're cooperative and generally nice, I can go the extra mile. If you're not, I'll do what I'm required to do and that's generally it. So you wanna flip the Golden Rule to ME? Fine. Do it. I don't deserve anything more than exactly that- what I deserve. *shrug* I expect nothing more than is expected, make sense? However, I'm NEVER rude off the bat. NEVER. I feel I've explained sufficiently. However, if anyone feels the need to attack me still for what I said, have at it =) I'm not being a blue-blooded-stuck-up-bitch, because I'm flat out not. I'm being HONEST. And if you judge me well, you're no better than what you think I am =D
So here's to Mr. Winner *clink*... a real staple to society and probably a new thorn in my side.
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