Some people say that certain people are put on this earth for a reason, they have a higher purpose, a life mission which needs completing. I now firmly believe that the lady I work with, who we shall call The Poison Dwarf or P.Dwarfy for short, was put on this earth with 2 sole purposes. 1, to want everything for nothing and 2, to irritate the fuck out of everyone she encounters.
To fully explain my hatred and the back-story behind this monumental cunt, would take a document bigger than the Britannia encyclopaedia, and when read, would have a mandatory 15 minute break every 5 minutes, otherwise the reader would suffer a haemorrhage.
To best explain this, I decided to write about this week at work with her. To give you all a flavour of how cunty, irritating and downright OUTRAGEOUS a person and even their family can be.
Monday:Poison has the day off, but even then I still have to put up with her bullshit from a distance.
She is off because she is supposed to be waiting for the gas man to fix her boiler. No, that isn't a euphemism. She ended up cancelling the visit after all that, but why?
To fully answer that I must explain her husband. A man who is without doubt a first class, gold plated, royal thundercunt. A man who, like poison, doesn't like to spend money and believes himself and his family to be better than anyone else. He, being a good businessman, decides to spend £XXX a month to "rent" a BMW, which doesn't even leave the garage. In fact the car has only been driven twice (and one of them was from the fucking showroom). It's kept on wood blocks (I'm not even kidding) in the garage at all times, treated like the buried Delorian from Back To The Future. Of course, her boiler is in the garage and the BMW would have to be moved to gain access. So obviously poison did what any normal person would do. Contact the gas company and cancel the visit.
This of course infuriated me in new ways, my eye starts to twitch and my hands shake. Is it rage? The onset of a stroke? Who knows.
Tuesday:She turns up for work in a foul mood. What could be the problem? A murder in the family? She went to Morrison's and forgot her "Save 50p on shopping over £300" coupon? I'm afraid it's more serious.
Turns out, her daughters rabbit escaped (its kept in the spare room for reasons, only god knows) and made its way to poisons daughters room. At which point it nibbled a patch of carpet away no bigger than a gnats fucking left bollock. I wish I was making this up, I really do.
Her daughter naturally reacted how we all would react. Like a child.
She is 20 going on 13, with all the temper tantrums and angst that come with it. So she phones up poison and gives her verbal abuse. Complaining that the carpet needs replacing, and who ever left the spare room door open will face the gallows. We all know, wilful release of rabbits from a spare room with the sole intention of carpet destruction is a crime punishable by death.
However, during this heated phone conversation, something remarkable happened. Instead of poison acting like she does at work, taking no shit, not tolerating bad behaviour and definitely having no intention of spending any of her own money on anything for more than £5, she offered to not only fix the carpet, but possibly replace it if necessary.
Stunning.
This is the same daughter by the way, who upon discovering she didn't have enough hair dye to colour her hair, she phoned poison at work at 8pm and asked, nay, demanded that she head over to the supermarket to buy more. She did. Fucking mug.
Back to the carpet.
At one point, poison was considering phoning the insurance company to make a claim. Think of that!!
"Yes, I would like to make a claim on a damaged carpet"
"What appears to be a problem madam?"
"Well, one of my rabbits escaped and dibbled a few atoms off a 5 meter square patch of carpet, so naturally I want the whole thing replaced ASAP, otherwise my daughter is not going to be happy".
"Sorry madam, but I must ask you to fuck off".
From the moment poison was phoned to the time we was going home, we heard nothing else but this scenario. "Oh whatever shall I do?!"
I tell you what you should do. Grab a large gym sock, fill it with a minimum of 4 snooker balls and beat that daughter of yours to an a inch of her pampered fucking life.
Wednesday:Before we even start work, poison is on a mission. She has to phone her son up to, get this, remind him to wake up for college. College? So that puts him past 15 years old, so he can fucking get his own arse out of bed right? You must be joking.
He left his phone in silent mode, so phoning it to remind him to wake up would be pointless right?
Poison didn't think so, in fact she even left voicemail messages, 4 of them. Who in their right fucking mind is going to wake up, dial their voicemail and listen to their mums high pitched shrill of a voice, saying "wake up please", 4 times over at 10 pence a minute? Well since she is a cunt, her husband is a cunt and her daughter is a cunt, I think I can safely say, without any scientific evidence to back me up on this, that her son is a cunt too and would listen to them all.
Thursday & Friday:Nothing remarkable here of mention. And in fact, if I dare mention anymore of poisons antics I fear my brain will try to slide its way out of my head leaving behind a post-it which reads "fuck you".
There is so much more, but alas, I neither have the time nor the will to write about it and all this has only happened this week!
