A big steaming plate of seppuku, please

I had the most schizoid day at work. It started off bad, as I was late out the door. Then once I'd gotten settled in I made that crucial mistake of thinking "Aaah, today might go ok." Just as I started in on a particularly time-consuming and nit-picky batch of transactions the flood-gates opened and the hell-spawn came pouring in. The people individually were not THAT bad, it was just collectively they were mostly germ-ridden, sneezing, snotting, coughing and demanding of my time and patience. After lunch, I felt strangely elated, though, as all the complicated transactions I had run though all balanced perfectly (cue: Handel's Messiah). Then came the crying baby family, whose engrossing conversation included such gems as "she's hot, maybe she has a fever", followed by "hey, why don't we go ahead and stay here with our screaming, ill infant and find some more stuff to do to our accounts so that everyone can catch whatever vile pestilence we are currently incubating" (I may be paraphrasing a bit) and my favorite "sweetie, it's not nice to fling sharp things at the heads of strangers (me)". It's times such as these I wonder just what physical damage I could inflict upon myself which would garner the most time out of work, yet the smallest copays.

I then dealt with a very nice lady, who I actually thought during our conversation that I could see myself being friends with, but I only realized until later that I had a severe case of diahrrea of the mouth and was babbling incoherently for much of our time together (I mean, does she really need to know the name of my postman? Um. NO.) During this interaction I was called by a coworker and told that I had committed a serious no-no (thanks, don't wait until I'm alone to tell me. Others really should know, too. Why call someone out alone when you can have WITNESSES! It's embarrssment in exponents!)

Then, to top it off, as I hurried to get the really important stuff done before the end of the day, I messed up that nice lady's account and now she's gonna get charged $2.00 extra dollars, and I'm gonna have to refund her her $2.00 dollars, but surely not after I get to explain to her that I'm a complete and total nimrod spazz-freak.

And I keep thinking of the paperboy from Better Off Dead and his two dollars.

I was just waiting for someone to say "Someone's got a case of the Mondays! Hahaha!", and I would have had to immediately punch them in the throat. Calgon couldn't take this day away with bulldozer and a forklift, though I do have a bottle of rum, come to think of it...