Anyway, there's this one customer in particular on my route who suffers from an extreme bout of A-Hole Entitlement Syndrome. Poor thing. He's quite fond of standing outside in the pre-dawn hours with the express purpose of bellowing at me while waving his arms around wildly. You'd think that balding, middle-aged men residing in half a million dollar homes would have better things to do than harass their paper carriers, but no.
He demands his paper at 5:30 A.M. on the dot. That's not a problem for me because contractually that's the delivery deadline anyway. However, he's such a freakin Hershey Squirt, I purposely re-routed my entire delivery area to ensure that his paper will not arrive even one minute before 5:30. Mr. Hershey Squirts favorite trick is to wait outside on his sidewalk, cell phone in hand, to call the Chronicle the second his clock displays the magic numbers of 5-3-0 to report a 'NO PAPER' complaint. He does this incessantly even though at that same exact moment he can plainly see me making the curve to deliver his house. For those lucky individuals ignorant of the customer complaint system, the carriers get charged for complaints and it affects our overall service performance ratio. Yeah, as though this job isn't sucktastic enough. The least Mr. Hershey Squirt could do is call in a 'LATE PAPER' even though that's as dishonest as his 'NO PAPER' complaints and he knows it.
Our passive-aggressive tete-a-tete has gone on for the past year. Unbeknownst to Mr. Hershey Squirt though, my boss hates his pissy whining and always convinces the Chronicle to erase the fraudulent complaints off my record. So, basically the war between us had reached an impasse as both sides stalled in our obnoxious tacticas de guerra......until a few weeks ago.
The fluorescent green numbering on my truck clock read 5:31 A.M. I had already thrown the paper on the other side of the massive yard to escape the wrath of Mr. Hershey Squirt. He was waiting for me. He stepped out of the shadows and commenced to screaming hysterically while flailing his arms around.
Mr Hershey Squirt: YOU'RE LATE!!!! YOU'RE LATE!!!""
(He was so Mad Hatter-ish in his indignation I almost started singing, "FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE!" as a retort.)
After I made sure I had distanced myself enough from him that he could hear me but not box me about the ears with his fists of
ME: "According to my clock I am NOT late. And you know what else? (I began crazily pointing my thumbs to my chest) I'M THE COMPLAINT PERSON! That's right. Every.single.time. you call in a complaint it goes directly to ME, sucka!"
And then I sped away with my heart thudding and my newly woken up 12 year-old daughter, Stef Knee, sleepily rubbing her eyes while saying "Wow, I had this weird dream that you were calling some guy a sucka."
Yesssss, I have reigned victorious. Mr. Hershey Squirt has not called in a single complaint in three weeks. I emasculated him. I owned. I broke his spirit. I said I was going to bring it and I done brought it. I made him worship at the altar of Elastic. You see, Mr. Hershey Squirt is a wild and woolly rodeo beast in dire need of taming. If he was featured on Animal Planet he'd be classified as: a hideous hybrid creature consisting of mostly horse's patoot. I've been training for the big showdown with Mr. Hershey Squirt for nearly a year now. Who knew that the grand finale would boil down to an intense 8 seconds just like something out of a cowboy movie? 8 seconds was all it took to bring Mr. Hershey Squirt to his pudgy little knees. 8 seconds to reclaim my dignity and honor as Houston's number one newspaper carrier. 8 seconds to GLORY!
*As though you needed any further evidence of my awesomeness, here's my ranking as of May 12th. That's right, numero uno, baby! It's now May 27th and I've only received one complaint for the entire month. I told my boss that he should just address me as 'My Number One Carrier Of All Time And Eternity' from now on because it's the truth and the truth shall be proclaimed!
*I actually prefer working at night under the cloak of darkness. It's like a secret club and I can allow the naughty side of me to shine through more than I ever dare during the daylight hours. This------------> is how I "wave" to the select few customers that seem hell-bent on making my already difficult life even more difficult.