It's official.

I can't go back working in a customer service sector ever again. After being consecutive pissing matches with the dumb ass patients today, I'm completely wiped out. I had forgotten how weary one gets from having to deal with rancid-smelling, autistic, swamp mutants from the planet Jimjongbazoo. They are fierce believers that their neanderthal ways should not be amended in our country's customs and traditions. Fine then, haul your effing bony ass back to those miserable rice paddy fields.

I was brutally reminded this afternoon why I despised working in Richard's office.

Apparently, Grace (the younger idiotic one) has been cutting corners and allowing assholian patients move up the line when they make a stink. Now they expect me to fill in her shoes.

Fill in her shoes? WTF?! Are you shitting with me?

Uhhh...NO.

Not with me. I make things plain and simple, by the textbook - the next one on the patient register list goes in to see the doctor. I make no any exceptions, unless you're about to have a heart attack right at the moment - then again, your ass oughta be in the hospital, not in my office.

Grace decides to assume the role of Mother Mary and cares for every decrepit looking weasel coming in. Technically, it's a nice thing; however, when you toss a monkey wrench into a process which has been working well for years, then it becomes a serious issue. Unfortunately, she has a tendency to respond towards those who are obnoxious, condescending and aggressive. See, when you try to mess with me, I will undoubtedly rip you a new asshole. I make no bones about it. Hell, I don't even give a rat's ass about what Richard thinks at this point. If you think treating me or the other girls like shit is the way to go, then I'll just punt it right back into your court.

Oy. I now have a wicked headache. If this Grace doesn't get her act together in the next few weeks, I'm gonna be looking for another receptionist.