Dear Tony,
During the course of my work week I frequently have to speak with and assist the elderly, both in person and over the phone. I have no patience for old decaying fucks. These senile old bags come in here stinking like moth balls and dirty Depends making me gag and forcing me to choke down my own vomit. They head straight for the free coffee and pastries with their dirty poop hands, most likely spreading E. Coli all over everything. They sit at my desk asking me questions they already know the answer to (or could easily find the answer to if they only had a clue what the fucking internet was) and telling me to speak loudly because their hearing aid battery is probably dead or they have too much wax buildup. They tell me I should be disappointed in myself, because the economy is in the shitter and this isn't 1919, so they aren't getting a 20% rate on their savings. So I sit there screaming in these old crones' faces, my throat heaving and my mouth salivating, all the while imagining how to kill myself in creative ways before the age of 50. There are also the deaf bastards that call, after yelling at me because we aren't listed in the phone book (why haven't they heard of GOOGLE?) they start asking the same questions, bitching about the same shit, refusing to listen to me, telling me to speak louder and before i know it I've lost my voice and my staff is laughing so hard they need Depends. Needless to say, I need some advice on how to better cope with these geriatrics on a daily basis that doesn't involve a bottle of cheap whiskey in my desk drawer or a handgun. Remember this isn't 1919.
Sincerely,
Honey I'll be in the Garage, Don't Open the Door.
Dear HIBITGDOTD,
I'll start with a quote from the great Moe Szyslak - "Old people are no good at everything." While Moe's sage wisdom is a great catchall for your, and my, feelings on the elderly, it isn't really true. They are very good at a few things. Smelling weird, hobbling, taking a really long time doing anything and mostly complaining. You'd probably complain about everything too if your pants were full of dump and your parts didn't work. Alas, this is a flimsy and unacceptable excuse for their behavior.
I have always supported a "send old people to Canada" platform. Canada would love them! They would love Canada! They are both so quaint. One wears funny hats the other IS a funny hat. I love this idea.
Until that glorious day, we need to deal with them. Well, I don't really because I don't have a retail job - but you do. So here's my advice. Smile and nod, ask about their grandkids, don't balk at their archaic racism and unplug their life support. Or take solace in the fact that one day you will be able to walk around smelling like a French whorehouse covering the scent of your banana mush lunch that you have crapped into your pants and complain about everything. One day you too will be able to kvetch about prices of bean curd, strike strange children in public and get discounts on the bus. Enjoy!
Keep up the good work,
Tony
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