Brain Soup

Sometimes-and by sometimes, I mean all the time-work kills my brains. When I get yet another degenerate gambler screaming at me in some unintelligible accent (Jamaican, Bostonian, Italian, doesn't matter..) about how his account is short five bucks because he can't do simple math or learn to navigate a fucking website because his grandkids thought it would be a hoot to buy grandpappy a new laptop so he could email them pictures of his new cat and type his entire topic IN THE DAMN SUBJECT LINE!!!! *gasp...collects self*...well, I just feel a little bit of myself die inside. I swear, it really is like these damn headsets we snake over our craniums every day slowly seep off tiny bits of gray matter with every call-like skimming oil off a pot of Pho. Then, they whisk it away to feed to a giant, hideous, cloud-like monster that feeds off of our very thoughts and souls-devouring anything of substance. But unlike Pho-where eventually after all that skimming you are left with the best parts of a savory spiced broth that is like a little orgy in your mouth when you add the noodles, flank steak, bean sprouts, basil and Sriracha-all this leaves me with is a steadily dwindling store of intellect, sanity, and drive for life. And that monster is the voice on the other end of the line.

Now, I've never met someone who I actually knew for a fact had an IQ of 70-but I guarantee you that I talk to at least 20 of these people a day at my job. On a good day. And by "good" I mean "doesn't end with me seriously contemplating the benefits of shaking my head so hard I get a concussion from knocking my brain against my skull over and over again." Yes, I know how hard that would be to accomplish. That's how god damned hopeless my work life has become.

Oh, sure, not all of them are that bad, and the fringe benefits certainly help-but aside from the occasional pair of movie tickets, iPod Shuffle or brief chat with a B-list celebrity, for the most part, I am dying a little inside every time I hear yet another middle-school dropout mouth breather posing as his girlfriend's "legal counsel" answer the phone threatening to go to the FBI over twelve dollars that was never missing to begin with. On the bright side, only 30 minutes left until my weekend! Then I can regroup, refresh, and come back to fight another day! Right?...Right?

......Anyone?

I literally just got back last week from vacation. God help us all.