iciclespark
08-02-2006, 03:26 PM
Dear Customers Of The Bank I Work At:
Alright. I've been stuck in this thankless job of providing security for a major Canadian financial institution for over a year. While some of you lovely regulars have been great at keeping me entertained, informed on world news and happily caffeinated with tea or sugared up on candies and treats, some of you need to fucking die.
Namely, the breeders.
I can smell you coming, you know. I always know when it's Breeder Bonus Cheque day, because there you are, one after the other, 3+ children in tow. But throughout the month you piss me off, and I'm going to go over the fucking rules again.
Security is NOT babysitter in whatever language of breederspeak you use. It is your fucking job to watch your goddamn kids. Not mine. My job is to prevent robberies, and protect the property and personnel of this particular branch (and since the staff are very wonderful, hilarious and sarcastic people, I actually would protect them if there while off-duty, because they rule). My job is to tell you to get your crotchdroppings off my fucking line queue rails because the rails are hollow and decorative, and have been known to fall down. The cost to replace them is $300. The bank is not amused when this happens. My job is to tell you not to let your fucking snotty brats spin the loose rails, creating hell's version of nails on a chalkboard for all to hear, while you yap on your cellphone or frantically try to calculate which bills to pay of the 50 in your stack.
My job does NOT include any of the following:
1) Seeking out your spawn and telling it to 'stay in the bank while I do my transaction'. If your kid is so prone to wandering, might I suggest one of those obnoxious harness and leash combos they give toddlers? If some pedo grabs your kid, it's not my fault.
2) Yelling at your child. Yes, I have noticed that your fucktrophy is bouncing like a speedfreak in the fucking waiting room chair. Yes, I have noticed, being as I have a migraine from the fluurescent lights in this place, that he is yelling his head off for no fucking reason. On sheer principle alone, however, I will not come over and yell at your spawn because "he won't listen to me whisper no and I seem incapable of doing anything but whispering, which he will so pay attention to". I will however tell you off for suggesting it then achieve success by quietly asking him to keep it down because I have a headache, because migraines suck.
3) Babysitting your three screaming banshees you have left unattended in the waiting area while you have an hour-long appointment about your mortgage, leaving them with no toys and thus, they are making the whole bank their playground. I've half a mind to release them into the parking lot. Instead, I will threaten them with being hogtied in their chairs if they so much as MOVE again (oh that was fun... yes....)
4) Telling your child to stay off the rails. Again, my job is to tell YOU. YOUR job is to discipline the child and make it comply. My uterus is barren for a reason. I have elected not to have children so I can bank peacefully. If you're too stupid to fucking use birth control, that's not my issue. However, after belittling your inability to parent, I will remind you that I will have your account billed for the $300 repair fee if you do not immediately control your child and the bar does indeed fall.
5) (This goes out to one person) If your child is autistic and has suddenly acquired the horrific habit of masturbating in public, for the love of fuck, do NOT leave him unattended in the seniors/disabled waiting chairs at the back, and do NOT ask me to watch him for you. I know special needs kids are tough but REALLY, get a FUCKING BABYSITTER or get INTERNET FUCKING BANKING to pay your phone bill!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EWWWWWWWWWWW. These seniors are on the verge of death in some cases and I don't want to have to do CPR on some strange old person with moles and bad breath if it can be avoided!!!!!!!!!!
6) By the way, if you can take care of your children, then why don't you get off your fucking cellphone and tell them to stop playing with the bank machine as they've been doing for five minutes before I finally intervened due to the growing line-up of people waiting to use it?
7) Oh and also? You having to wait a few minutes to access a safety deposit box does not excuse your fucking kid playing Tarzan on my fucking line queue.
I hate you all. I have seen good parents and kids, so I know it is possible to have well-behaved children in a bank. No fucking excuses!!!
No love,
The bitchy security guard who wants to sterilize you all for the good of humanity.
PS - 7 is way too fucking old for a fucking stroller. So is 5. Take your fucking kids for a walk before they become the obese kids of tomorrow from the doughnuts and candies you keep handing them in line to placate them.
Alright. I've been stuck in this thankless job of providing security for a major Canadian financial institution for over a year. While some of you lovely regulars have been great at keeping me entertained, informed on world news and happily caffeinated with tea or sugared up on candies and treats, some of you need to fucking die.
Namely, the breeders.
I can smell you coming, you know. I always know when it's Breeder Bonus Cheque day, because there you are, one after the other, 3+ children in tow. But throughout the month you piss me off, and I'm going to go over the fucking rules again.
Security is NOT babysitter in whatever language of breederspeak you use. It is your fucking job to watch your goddamn kids. Not mine. My job is to prevent robberies, and protect the property and personnel of this particular branch (and since the staff are very wonderful, hilarious and sarcastic people, I actually would protect them if there while off-duty, because they rule). My job is to tell you to get your crotchdroppings off my fucking line queue rails because the rails are hollow and decorative, and have been known to fall down. The cost to replace them is $300. The bank is not amused when this happens. My job is to tell you not to let your fucking snotty brats spin the loose rails, creating hell's version of nails on a chalkboard for all to hear, while you yap on your cellphone or frantically try to calculate which bills to pay of the 50 in your stack.
My job does NOT include any of the following:
1) Seeking out your spawn and telling it to 'stay in the bank while I do my transaction'. If your kid is so prone to wandering, might I suggest one of those obnoxious harness and leash combos they give toddlers? If some pedo grabs your kid, it's not my fault.
2) Yelling at your child. Yes, I have noticed that your fucktrophy is bouncing like a speedfreak in the fucking waiting room chair. Yes, I have noticed, being as I have a migraine from the fluurescent lights in this place, that he is yelling his head off for no fucking reason. On sheer principle alone, however, I will not come over and yell at your spawn because "he won't listen to me whisper no and I seem incapable of doing anything but whispering, which he will so pay attention to". I will however tell you off for suggesting it then achieve success by quietly asking him to keep it down because I have a headache, because migraines suck.
3) Babysitting your three screaming banshees you have left unattended in the waiting area while you have an hour-long appointment about your mortgage, leaving them with no toys and thus, they are making the whole bank their playground. I've half a mind to release them into the parking lot. Instead, I will threaten them with being hogtied in their chairs if they so much as MOVE again (oh that was fun... yes....)
4) Telling your child to stay off the rails. Again, my job is to tell YOU. YOUR job is to discipline the child and make it comply. My uterus is barren for a reason. I have elected not to have children so I can bank peacefully. If you're too stupid to fucking use birth control, that's not my issue. However, after belittling your inability to parent, I will remind you that I will have your account billed for the $300 repair fee if you do not immediately control your child and the bar does indeed fall.
5) (This goes out to one person) If your child is autistic and has suddenly acquired the horrific habit of masturbating in public, for the love of fuck, do NOT leave him unattended in the seniors/disabled waiting chairs at the back, and do NOT ask me to watch him for you. I know special needs kids are tough but REALLY, get a FUCKING BABYSITTER or get INTERNET FUCKING BANKING to pay your phone bill!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EWWWWWWWWWWW. These seniors are on the verge of death in some cases and I don't want to have to do CPR on some strange old person with moles and bad breath if it can be avoided!!!!!!!!!!
6) By the way, if you can take care of your children, then why don't you get off your fucking cellphone and tell them to stop playing with the bank machine as they've been doing for five minutes before I finally intervened due to the growing line-up of people waiting to use it?
7) Oh and also? You having to wait a few minutes to access a safety deposit box does not excuse your fucking kid playing Tarzan on my fucking line queue.
I hate you all. I have seen good parents and kids, so I know it is possible to have well-behaved children in a bank. No fucking excuses!!!
No love,
The bitchy security guard who wants to sterilize you all for the good of humanity.
PS - 7 is way too fucking old for a fucking stroller. So is 5. Take your fucking kids for a walk before they become the obese kids of tomorrow from the doughnuts and candies you keep handing them in line to placate them.