Why people get castrated.

Two things:
1, I’m pretty passive aggressive,and
2, I hate weddings.

So I’ve been roped in to another wedding. This makes me assume that I must be masochistic,because HOW DO I KEEP LETTING THIS HAPPEN TO ME?? breathe However,I guess this one isn’t going to be so bad (read apocalyptically awful and mind-numbingly exhausting) because it’s for two people who I actually love.

Best maid duty involves taking bride-soon-to-be-bridezilla 😀 on wedding…shopping…for…wedding…stuff. The first appointment was with the photographer. He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. Why is it that punctuality and Kenyans are irreconcilable concepts? I constantly bemoan the unfortunate state of those poor,useless watches that are clearly,just decorations.

Then,flower shopping. Then,shoe shopping. Then,dress shopping. I should’ve added a number 3: I hate shopping. sigh But it was cool. Taking it in stride. Trying not to twitch. Best-maidal obligations and all.

We walk into Enka Rasha,to the bridal section. 3 women are sitting there. We ask to see their gowns. One lady gets up heavily,slowly,and throws us 3 files. We open and leaf through them. She stares at us,uninterested,chewing a piece of gum like it’s life support. We ask questions. She replies in monosyllables. The other attendant is ignoring us,the other is writing something in…something. We ask if this is possible,if this is possible. They say no,it’s a package. No,it’s a package. We ask the price of the package. She tells us with all the excitement of a jaded whore. We walk out of there. The first sign should have been the name of their bridal section,emblazoned shamelessly in a horrid typeface ACROSS each picture and file cover: GAL BRIDAL.

At Capri7,there’s a waitress called Mildred. She makes me an entertainer,because I have to beg her for service by jumping around,waving my hands frantically,sijui dancing…sometimes I feel like I should do that thing that teenage boys do when they make their armpits fwump with their hands. I’ve stopped buying stuff at Capri7. They’re overly priced,which would be fine if their service wasn’t a pile of noxious shit.

I can’t stand bad service. And seeing as I’m passive-aggressive,I never bitch. But what these suckers don’t know is that I’m those ones who will chill,and then track you down ten years later and castrate you with a blunt razor. breathe

My point is,I’m going to stop accepting bad service. I’m paying,literally,for bad service. NO MORE! FREE YOURSELF FROM THE CHAINS OF OPPRESSION! EMANCIPATE YOURSELVES FROM MENTAL…or,go find the manager.


7 thoughts on “Why people get castrated.

  1. I'm pretty much the opposite in this regard; I'm paying for service and, so help me God, I will get good service. I've 'let it go' a couple of times and, invariably, it eats me up on the inside and I beat myself up later for it. I don't make a scene but I will (politely) let the staff and the manager know what's up.

    “…She tells us with all the excitement of a jaded whore.”

    I LOL'd.

  2. 'gum like life support' 'jaded whore' 'tSN the entertainer…'! ha ha ha.

    Bad service is irritating to say the least, but I try and avoid getting angsty about it- it'll ruin my day and imbeciles alert will not get the message. If I was already having a bad day though, I feel the need to try and make the world a better place. There's three former Nakumatt junction employees to prove my point 😀

  3. There are sooo many times I have wanted to dismiss a receptionist, sales person etc. Like, it's okay, you can go for lunch/go meet your boyfriend, etc, and I will gladly do your work for you, for free even – just cos of the shitty bullshit they call service.
    The only time I ever bitched at someone I did so with a smile and still felt like I'd over reacted – but I honestly don't get it, why do you have stay at the job if you don't wanna do it? Achia mtu mwingine!

  4. I don't care if he left you. At the alter. While 8 month's pregnant. With twins. All I ordered was a $@#!%& latte. Get me my latte and get on with your grief.


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