The brutal killing – sometimes after appropriate torture – of people who richly deserve it.
Case in point: customer service reps who fuck something up, then want to argue about it instead of saying I’m sorry sir, I’ll get it fixed.
The word service is, theoretically, in there for a reason. You’d think. Evidently not.
I actually told a woman who works for Wells Fargo “Your email management skills are not my problem.” But you know, in my head her hot red blood was dripping down my arm as I held her tender white throat in one hand, and drew a straight razor slowly across her neck, carving her a second smile.
So what I said? Pretty nice, all things considered.
Pardon me, I need to look for someone to hurt…