FIGHT CLUB RULE #3: DO NOT GET FEISTY WITH PISS BOY

In my defense ... man ... this client and the employees there are just as rude as ... hmmmm. They're as rude as ... hmmmm.

OH!

They're as rude as a fart in church!

HA!!

...Alright fine. I'm not flying on all cylinders this morning. As always ... the line to sue me starts on the right.

So anyway ... rude bitches ahead and I walk in at 3:45 p.m. to pick up the piss.

Piss ain't ready. Come back later, Piss Boy.

Alright ... here's the deal ... I only go by this place twice a day ... at 12:15 and 3:45. They know this. They have two opportunities every day to hand over the piss and paperwork. If they don't hand over the piss, the piss goes in the fridge until the next day and all paperwork is completed and typed up in neat form.

"Come back later."

I try to calmly explain to these shittards that it ain't like that. They don't get THREE opportunities to hand over the piss per day ... only two.

"We don't care. Come back later, Piss Boy."

I remind them that the LAST time they wanted me to "come back later", I fought through rush hour traffic and a raging thunderstorm to get to their office to find that they had closed up shop early and DID NOT LEAVE ME ANY PISS IN THE PICK-UP BOX.

I smiled weakly and said "THAT'S not going to happen again, is it?"

Rude stares. Silent rude fart-in-church stares.

In order to break the silence and answer the question for them, I added "Because if I have to fight through rush hour traffic and find out that you 'forgot' to put the specimens in the drop box, heads are going to roll around here!"

I smiled as I said this to punctuate the fact that heads weren't REALLY going to roll. But I was serious about them at least holding up their end of the bargain if I was going to waste an extra 20 minutes to fight traffic to pick up their measly one tube o' piss. Because it's not just making me 20 minutes late ... it means that every single person in the laboratory has to work an extra 20 minutes, jacking up our payroll. Not by much granted ... but 10 people times 20 minutes each ... that adds up.

I mean ... I had my reasons for reminding these rude bitches the repercussions of their tardiness in getting the pee ready.

At least ... I thought I did.

"The only head that will roll is YOURS," the head rude bitch said. "It is your job to pick up the specimens and if you don't want to do it, I'm sure someone else will be glad to take your job."

Yeah.

People are just waiting in line to haul piss around town.

This ain't 1568 anymore, babe.

It was time to layeth the smacketh down on this harlot.

"Ma'am," I said, my smile fading. "I don't appreciate being threatened like that. The truth is, I'm only supposed to come over here twice a day. The drop box is only to be used when you close up early BEFORE I make my second trip over here. Not for extra trips. Everyone else in town can manage to get their specimens and paperwork done twice a day with the same amount of employees that you have doing your work. I don't know what happens once I leave this office twice a day, but I can assure you that if you exert a little more energy towards getting this work done on time, everything would flow smoother for both of us. The only reason I hesitate to come back here a third time is because you've left me hanging before on a third trip with no specimens which doesn't just affect me, but the entire office. I came back as a courtesy to you and you didn't even apologize the next day for not cooperating with me."

"When was that?" she asked.

"November 30th," I blurted out.

...I have no idea if it was November 30th or not. For all I know, that was a Sunday. I just figured she wanted a date and I tossed one out there without thinking.

"I will have everything ready by 5:00," she said, staring at me over her glasses. "I strongly suggest you come and get it then."

"I'm holding you to that," I said, forcing a smile her way.

And I left.

Went back at 5:05, they were all gone but she had put her piss in the drop box just like she said.

I went back to my office and figured I'd better tell the boss what happened.

I explained what had happened and went into a Readers Digest-condensed version of what happened, trying to make myself sound as innocent as possible.

The boss just grinned.

"None of us like that doctor's office," he said. "They're all horribly rude over there. Did you curse her out?"

"No," I said.

"Good," he smiled. "The last courier cursed her out when she laid into him. You did fine."

...I love my boss.

I'm sure I've probably mentioned it here at least once, but I went to college with Reggie White and had him in a few classes.

He was huge. Just a huge guy. And so nice. He was one of the stars on the Tennessee football team at the time and just the nicest guy you'd ever meet. We were in one of those groups that worked on a project together one time and spent some time together for a few weeks researching the details of the discovery of America.

He was an ordained minister already in college and he's the one who inspired me to get my own .... ummmm ... ordainment?? I dunno. Mine's more a joke, but his was for real.

The surprising thing was ... when I got his Christmas card this year, he talked at length about how great he felt and all the things he was planning on doing in 2005.

Alright fine. We don't exchange Christmas cards.

But if he had just made an effort to track me down to reminisce about the one project we worked on together in 1982, I'm sure I would have meekly initiated the concept of trading Christmas cards with him.

Sadly, we both waited too long to reach that plateau in our relationship.

G'bye Reggie.

I hope you run into Christopher Columbus in Heaven.