Simmer down, people!

So I have no time to blog this week. Luckily for you, I came across a very funny, nay... a HILARIOUS, post by a friend of some of us Prudhommians. I will not reveal his identity, and I've changed some names in the blog in an effort to protect it. Okay, so there's really no reason to protect his identity, but it adds a sense of drama that is sorely lacking in my life. Woodward and Bernstein got nothin' on me! Anyway, he was generous enough to give his permission to reprint his masterpeice here. So thanks, my own little Deep Throat and enjoy, my peeps!

The Anger Epidemic

Alright, folks. This topic has been brewing in my simple head for quite some time. As a guy who deals with the public on a daily basis, I have noticed a disturbing trend among the citizens of our fair country. It appears to me that, in general, most people are pissed off most of the time.

The other day I am at the office, and the intercom on my desk phone makes its annoying beep. "Boru, line 2. It's Joe from *giant corporation,* and he's pissed off." Great. I get ole Joe on the phone, and he is raising hell because he got his UPS package and guess what? It's not his stuff. It appears that we sent his stuff to Venice (Louisiana, not Italy) and some poor bastard in Venice got his stuff. I profusely apologize to Joe and vow that it will never happen again. I pull my driver away from what he is doing and have him run some new stuff out to *giant corporation* posthaste. Disaster is averted, and the world is safe for democracy once again. After thinking about the situation for a while, these were my observations:

1. Do I call Joe and spew venom when I have to pay $3 for a gallon of gas while his company is making record profits, and they are taking the Lear jet down to the Circle K for Diet Cokes and cigarettes?.......No.

2. Do I call Joe a miserable c**ksucker when he tells me he needs me immediately, so I drop everything and run out there only to have him leave me in the lobby reading a four month old copy of the "Oil and Gas Times" for an hour and a half?.....No.

3. Do I tell Joe to go f**k himself when he calls and asks if our small business will sponsor his golf tournament when his company just gave their CEO a 47 million dollar bonus?.....No.

While I was reflecting on these universal truths, my phone shrieks out "Boru, line one. It's Nelson, and he sounds pissed off.” Joy. Nelson is the factory rep for one of the lines that we represent. Apparently, one of our fine upstanding customers has been on the horn to Nelson complaining of shoddy service from my crew. After apologizing profusely, I dig into the situation and find out that said customer didn't receive their material because said customer hasn't paid their bill since it was jacket weather. These were my reflections on the matter:

1. Did I drive to Houston and beat the crap out of Nelson for taking up arms against me, his "synergistic alliance partner"?...No.

2. Did I drive to California and beat the crap out of Nelson's boss for coming up with the term "synergistic alliance partner"?...No.

3. Did I pick up the phone and call my customer a shiftless, no good, invoice dodging, rat fink, son of a b**ch?...No.

Rapidly losing faith in humanity, I grab my keys, mumble something about being late for a sales call and hit the door. I stop at the EZ Stop, stroll past the rack of hats that read "Allah Akbar", pass the table of candles emblazoned with the Virgin Mary, and reach the counter. I look at the jar of pig's feet and wonder what Allah would have to say about his hats being peddled in a place that so brazenly serves pork products, feet at that. While so engrossed, I am suddenly snapped back to reality by the sounds of curse words. It appears that the cashier was tired of Curtis' bulls**t. It appears that Curtis took the motherfu**ing car and left her with her g***amn children all motherf**ing day while he went to the g***amn football game. And then the motherf***er had the nerve to try to have some sort of sexual congress with said cashier upon his return to the family dwelling. I am not sure of the outcome, but I think it didn't work out too well for old Curtis. My mind begins to wander again, and I think about poor Allah. First his hats have to endure the porcine presence, live next door to the Virgin Mary, and then be subjected to such talk by the keeper of the shop. She then gives me a look as if to say, "Whatever may I get for you, kind sir"? I manage to point out the correct cigarettes without further disturbing her phone call and wander back through the religious artifacts to my truck.

If you are wondering if all of this rambling has a point, yes, it does. And the point is this:

SIMMER DOWN, PEOPLE!

• Chasing the guy down that cut you off so you can call him an a**hole and flip him off doesn't get you home any faster, unless you happen to live that way.
• Putting a voodoo curse on your boss because he's making you work Saturday isn't nice and is probably against company policy.
• Cursing out the telemarketer isn't nice. Remember, he has to call pissed off people all day, then go home and get called by telemarketers.
• The State Farm lady didn't tell the guy who hit you to buy crack instead of automobile insurance.

I realize that turning the other cheek isn’t always the easy thing to do, so I offer these relaxation tips that I use to keep from becoming angry.

1. Have some sex. Have you ever been angry during sex? Maybe you have, but it just makes it better, then you aren't angry anymore.

2. Smoke some dope. It is impossible to be pissed off while you are high. And if you somehow manage to get pissed off, you can't do anything about it anyway.

3. Exercise until you are exhausted. I usually run to the end of my driveway. Then all of my anger is gone, and I go in and have a beer.

I hope this has been a help to some of you. I like to think of it as my little contribution to America. And, hopefully, it counts towards my public service hours.