WEST PEACHTREE–I am just sick to death, you guys. Sick of being labelled as “suspicious” or “strange” just because I happen to have been left in a parking lot near a building on West Peachtree. Do you know how insulting that is? Well, do you?
Have you ever been called names because of your appearance? Doesn’t feel too good, does it? But yet you feel totally justified calling a simple package names, somehow. It’s downright mean-spirited, I tell you.
Here I am, just trying to do my job by carrying things around or going through the mail system with stupid crap inside me, and what do I get for thanks? Being forgotten in a parking lot!
Hell, I once sat on the HR manager’s shelf for a year with two pieces of paper inside me. Had to listen to her on the phone with her fiancee every day discussing color samples. Just paint the damned wall, woman! He can’t see the color over the phone anyway. Christ!
Now I get forgotten, spend all night in the cold, only to be labeled “suspicious” come the light of day. Well flap my sides and call me a bird, don’t that just fold me right in the crease.
I swear if I had one wish in this world, it would be for someone to handle me after calling me suspicious. Oooh! The paper cut I would give them. Yeah, right on the thumb joint! Hows that for suspicious and strange, jerk?
Now I got cops and firemen all over me, making a whole big goddamned deal out of all this. No sign of the person who left me here to begin with, either.
Son of a bitch. Weekend can’t get here fast enough, seriously. Really tired of this shit.