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1:13 p.m. - 2002-01-24


I've got to hand it to Circuit Shitty ... they really know how to piss me off.

All day long I've been plotting my revenge against them for selling me a television that they didn't have in stock. See my earlier entry if you want specifics ... I don't have time to rehash the shenanigans.

So I've been planning on what I was going to say. It was going to go something like this...


ME: "Pschaw! I wish!! I want my goddamned money back!"

CIRCUIT CITY EMPLOYEE: "What seems to be the problem, sir?"

ME: "You sumbitches sold me a TV that you don't even have in stock. Not here, Not Atlanta, Not America, Not globally...I'm not even sure the damned thing's ever been invented yet!"

CIRCUIT CITY EMPLOYEE: "Sir, if you could just calm down we can..."

ME: "CALM DOWN?!? CALM DOWN?!?! Eat my ass, you insolent fuck!! I've got a bullet with your name on it, you whore shit! YOU PEOPLE HAVE RUINED MY LIIIIIIIFE!!!"

Basically, I was going to hulk out on their unsuspecting asses.

So I go in there at lunch. I know how to get their attention quickly without saying a word, and that's to go to the biggest damned television in the store and stare at it while rubbing your chin and looking like you're deep in thought. Those sons of bitches will come out of the woodwork when they see someone staring at a big screen TV.

Sure as hell, three salesfucks raced to my side.

"Can I help you?"

"Can I help you?"

"Can I help you?"

I sneered at them.

"I need my account credited," I said, holding out my receipt.

All of their chests sunk as they realized I wasn't about to line their pockets with a Benjamin.

They pointed me to the customer service desk.

I strutted over there like I owned the place and waited behind a guy in line. The guy had a bug crawling around on his collar and was about to go into his shirt. I debated on hitting the guy in the back of the neck and trying to convince him that there "really was" a bug on his collar, but then I thought I wouldn't want a total stranger messing with my collar so I just let the bug crawl in his shirt. I'm tired of being Mr. Nice Guy, rescuing grown men from little bugs. Screw that. I'm in full tilt asshole mode now, Chico.

The guy walks away, scratching at the back of his neck and the girl behind the counter asked if she could help me.


I had already planned out how to start the conversation. All I was going to say was "I need my account credited." This opens them up to ask "Why?" Then I was going to lay into her and tell her how shitty the company that she worked for was and how bad of a reputation they had and how I was waging a one man war against them and by God, I would bring them down to their knees and bankrupt them single-handedly and they would all rue and I mean RUE the day they fucked me over.

"I need my account credited," I said, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, waiting impatiently for her response.

"Okay," she said.




Is that it? Don't you wanna know why?? Don't you even CARE?!?

Hell no. It's Circuit City. Where the store motto is "We Don't Give A Shit, Just Hand Over Your Money".

They're the gangstas of the retail world.

I give her my receipt and she said "Are you returning a television?"

AHA!!! It wasn't the question I was anticipating ... but I thought I could slap my well-planned answer on it anyway.

"You suck!" I said, beaming.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"You suck!" I repeated. "Your company sucks, your service sucks, your salesmen suck, everything about Circuit City sucks!"

"I said are you returning a television?" she asked again, once I realized that the whole "suck" conversation was only going on in my head.

"No,I'm not 'returning' a television," I said, ready to share my tale of woe with this stranger. "I bought a television that you didn't have in stock, the salesman said he'd order it and it'd be here yesterday and it didn't come in and the manager said he didn't know when it would ever come in, so I'm cancelling the sale."

She didn't care.

"Do you have your card with you?" she asked.

"No," I said. "I've called your precious little customer service line twice to get a new card and they never have sent one because your people don't give a shit about the customers and by the way ... you suck."

She ignored me and looked up my account via Social Security Number.

Meanwhile, a guy from church walked up behind me and wanted to shoot the shit.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, hoping he'd say "Nothing" and then turn around and ask me the same thing so I could blurt out my story one more time so maybe THIS TIME the lady behind the counter would hear it and she could call a manager over and they could give me a free TV or something and BEG ME to like them again because that's how ideal situations unfold inside my head.

He said he was returning some speaker wire.

And he DIDN'T ask me what I was doing.

I was helpless. I was surrounded by people who didn't care that I had been wronged by the man. Girl behind the counter was busy trying to correct my account while Church Guy wanted to talk about dieting.

Christ almighty...SOMEBODY please ask me how much I hate Circuit City...PLEEEEEASE!!!

Church Guy kept blabbing while Counter Girl kept punching buttons.

Y'see...that's what they do at Circuit City...they hire people that they then train to not ask questions because they don't want to know the truth about how bad they suck. If you want something cancelled or your money back for's no questions asked because if they ask a question, you're liable to work yourself up into a frenzy and start jap-slappin' people around.

She gave me back my original receipt with a new receipt that showed my account had indeed been credited the full amount and thanked me for shopping Circuit City.

I wanted to tell her it'd be the last time she'd ever see my pudgy, yet ruggedly handsome face in there again.

I wanted to tell her that her boss was a pissant.

I wanted to scream "This place blows aardvark dick!" and then go outside with a big sign saying "BOYCOTT CIRCUIT CITY!" and march back and forth on the sidewalk.

So what did I do?

...I mumbled "You dirty bunch of cheater heads" under my breath as I left.


I'm tough alright.

You don't wanna mess with me.

God forbid I saddle you with the brand of a Dirty Cheater Head.


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