I understand.

Believe me,

I understand.

 

I understand that the product you bought,

or the food that you ordered,

or the service we provided,

or whatever it is you’re returning

that you’re not happy with,

 

is defective,

deficient,

or you’ve got one already,

or you’re just not happy,

because what you got

was generally crappy,

or the service was sloppy,

somehow not satisfactory.

 

And you want your money back

or a replacement,

or store-credit

and/or an apology from me.

 

And on top of that,

maybe you’re ill,

or your partner has left you

and you feel bereft

because a relative or pet has died,

or you’re in danger of losing your job

and one of your kids lied about

where he was last night.

 

Whatever it is,

whatever the problem,

believe me,

I understand.

 

But understand this:

 

I just work here,

and this situation annoys me as well;

it certainly isn’t anything personal

on my part.

So consider this,

I get paid minimum brick

to be made to feel like a piece of shit

by people

that feel the need to take out whatever it is

that’s fucked-up their day

on a person who would

rather be at home

or a million miles away

right now…

.

but I understand.

Believe me,

I understand.

 

Because I’ve got rights too, you know.