Angry letter #1
I worked as a customer service manager at a call centre for a while. One of the few things that made the job bearable was getting the foamers transferred to me when they screechingly DEMANDED to speak to a manager.

The standard procedure is to make the appropriate soothing and mollycoddling noises whilst trying to reach a compromise that keeps both company and customer happy. A letter is then sent confirming whatever has been agreed. 9 times out of 10 this works a treat. But those other times...

Sometimes I'd find myself talking to people so balls-out mental and/or apocalyptically unpleasant that I find myself white with fury by the time I've finished talking to them. I probably shouldn't have taken their impotent mewling personally. But I did. So to try and help me deal with this, I used to write two letters for these customers after a call. The second was of the type I mentioned earlier. The first was for me. How so? Well, I'd write down what I actually wanted to say to these self important buckets of fuck-phlegm. I can only find two, but I think you'll get the idea...

Dear Sir,
I had the misfortune of speaking to you today, and listening to your tales of whining and woe. Upon hearing it, I immediately retold it to my Jewish Uncle, a survivor of the holocaust. He fell to his knees in horror, and blanched as he told me that nothing he had experienced, no indignity that he suffered at the hands of the nazi regime as he watched his friends and family butchered, none of this compared to how awful it must have been for you to receive a slightly damaged cd.

Okay, sure; you were able to download what you needed the same day, and were pointed to that download site by a member of our staff whose patience is, it must be said, akin to that of a saint. But…but that damaged cd; dear sweet LORD it must have been traumatic!

So anyway, aside from speaking to you, I also spoke to that cockspawn employee of yours. Tell me the truth; is he an employee? Is he really? Or is he a cackwizard comprised of tramps syphilis and paupers tears, placed on this earth for the sole purpose of making me want to drive my own thumbs into my eyesockets rather than talk to him for more than 5 seconds?

Having spoken to you, I must confess that I found myself wondering; what has driven you to become such a shitty-tonsilled rapeblanket? Is it your looks? Do you have a face like a fat muppet’s cunt? Or is it the desperate, aching lonliness that permeates every single aspect of your loathsome, slithering existence?

Regardless of what it is, I can tell you that we can make the following offer to you by way of compenstation; we will have you killed, buried, dug up, fucked hard, buried again, dug up again, chopped into pieces, eaten, shat out and finally, buried again. I trust that meets with your requirements?

Should you have any further queries, please don’t hesitate to lock yourself in a festival toilet and plunge headfirst into the swamp of effluent and tampons.

Yours etc
(Light, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 18:18, 4 replies)

face like a fat muppet's cunt
gets a click from me.
( Mockingbird Practitioner of SCIENCE, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 18:20, closed)

...
and me!

still laughing now.
(SillyMoo, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 18:28, closed)

shitty-tonsilled rapeblanket
That did it for me..
*Ker Lick*
(danniekavanagh did nothing constructive on, Mon 7 Sep 2009, 18:28, closed)

same here
*click*
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Tue 8 Sep 2009, 18:27, closed)