Oh, for the love of shit, it's Mother's Day time, and that means it's time for my job to make me question my will not to drink during the day. Or morning. Or while in the bed, during the night before.
Seriously, people want their flowers for their mamas, they want to be able to wait until 48 hours before the big day, and they don't want anyone standing in their way. Today was a long day of pissing off various people, from the owner to the delivery manager to the customers to the designers. People are totally unafraid to let you know that you are an insignificant cog in the machine that is THE BEST FLOWERS IN BIRMINGHAM, PEOPLE. I found myself saying "FUCK IT" more often and more loudly than most days, and it's usually pretty frequent if that tells you anything.
Tonight I am trying to push through the nausea and fatigue to just, please, get some alcohol into my system. Tomorrow I'm going to work with a can of silly string in my apron because, listen, I won't get in as much trouble shooting people with that as with the lazers that come out of my eyes.