To computer illiterate patrons:
It is not my fault that you do not know how to use the internet. When I tell you that you cannot use Outlook on a public computer without specifying a POP3 server, which the security settings on it will not allow you to do anyway, I am not saying so to be a bitch. I am saying so because it is true. And I am guessing that, since you don't know how to write an email from your web-based account, you also don't know what a POP3 server is. Therefore, when you angrily insist that you always use Outlook on our computers to send email, you are only making youself look more idiotic.
And no, I will not type up your letter for you simply because you don't know how to type. This is not 1950, and I am not your secretary. I am actually allowed to complete more complex tasks than typing up your chicken scratch, even though you are a man and I am a woman. I am smarter than you are; get used to it.
I am also not your servant. That is why I do not look up when you whistle at me because you do not know how to use a computer and want me to tell you how. Snapping your fingers is equally ineffective unless you happen to catch my eye while I am glancing at your screen to make sure you are not looking at porn. And trust me, you do not want me to catch you looking at porn.
That is all.
2 comments:
i love you
Amy reconstructs the scene:
"Hey, I've got this letter that needs to be typed, and for some reason, my penis prevents me from using a keyboard. Since you have a vagina, you must automatically want to do my bidding, and are genetically predisposed to typing, cooking, cleaning, and caring for children. Will you have my baby?"
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