My patience level is quite high, believe it or not.
I know I rant a lot and whatnot, but that's only here. In person, I have a tendency to wait on people and things for a freakish amount of time. I put up with A TON of shit... ask anyone who knows me (explains why I only resort the internet to complain, complain, complain).
I usually make fun of those who throw hissy fits at restaurants and other places where one must wait.
Even when I have shit-tastic service, I'll wait... and wait... to the point where I'll often get teary-eyed from the pent-up anger, but... I am never one to walk out or speak up/complain. I just shrug and think that motherfucker SUCKS at his job... and probably life as well.
WELL.
Today was Tyson's second follow up for the little paw.
It's still not completely healed. The bloody area has shrunk considerably, but there still is a bloody area. That shit's unacceptable.
I had made the appointment two weeks ago, on his first follow up.
Aside from my patience, I'm also--for the most part-- very punctual.
I showed up to the appointment--as always-- fifteen minutes early.
No one was waiting at the vet's, and no appointments were ahead of me.
Since Tyson's an antisocial monster, we must perform an entire dance to get him into his room.
First, one of us must walk into the office to make sure no other pets or people are in the waiting area.
Second, we have to announce Tyson's ready to walk in.
Third, the room is prepared, and once the room's available, they leave the door open for him and the assistants get on the other side of their desk.
Fourth, we have to make sure no one is in the parking lot. Once the coast is clear, we practically run him into his room and close the door behind us.
So much hassle for a 102 pound pitbull.
But we have to do this because he has almost murdered two other dogs in the waiting room in seperate occasions... and he has almost bitten two assistants in the past.
The only person he likes is the male vet. Fuck girls. Tyson HATES females (hmm... they say pets resemble their owners... and this little fucker is a clear example of that).
Anyway, the animal hospital has been very, very nice and considerate of this antisocial pet of mine (why don't you just muzzle him and walk in there like the rest of us? You may ask. Tyson's smart, and he's far more dextrous than any fucking dog should be. He uses his paws to remove the muzzle, I KID YOU NOT. Also, since his head shape is so bizarre, muzzles don't fit him like they do other breeds) and I've never had a complaint.
But today...
Today was NOT the day to make me angry.
For one, I went to bed hell of late last night since I once again had to be the mother of the house, because Mom and Dad left on a day trip to LA for a funeral. I had to do everything in the house because D was out being an irresponsible brat.
Once I DID conquer sleep, Mom walked into my room and woke me up, angrily asking for D's location.
I gave her incoherent answers... because I honestly had NO IDEA where the hell D was, and I was also in the middle of some goodass REM sleep when she decided to barge into my room like some fucking ICE officer.
In the morning, I was exhausted from killing myself at the gym the day prior, killing myself at the house the remainder of the previous day, not getting much sleep that night, and then bathing tyson who acts as if water is made of nitric acid in the morning... so when I got to the animal hospital, I wanted to get the shit over with ASAP. It was only a check up, after all.
At first, everything was going great. I was told his room would be ready in a few minutes, so I went outside to chat with Mom--who was handling a hyper Tyson-- while we waited for the room to get ready.
After ten minutes, I walked inside.
Once again, they promised me the room would be ready, and this time, they made me sit inside.
Two people walked in with their pets... and I became furious the moment I saw they were immediately ushered into two of the three rooms.
WTF?!
One of them was NEW to the place, so she clearly had no appointment scheduled... and by now, they were cutting into my appointment time.
I waited some more.
They attended TWO MORE people and their pets.
AN HOUR had passed.
By now, my blood was boiling.
I decided to stand up and hang out by the counter... since apparently that's where people get more attention.
They straight up ignored me.
THE NERVE OF THESE BITCHES!
Instead of getting rude and saying something cunt-y, I just walked out.
No appointment for Tyson.
I was angry about it for about three more hours. I couldn't even eat breakfast.
...
Hopefully I don't update this shit in a week's time to talk about the death of poor Tyson.
Curse you, Mexican irascibility!
I know I rant a lot and whatnot, but that's only here. In person, I have a tendency to wait on people and things for a freakish amount of time. I put up with A TON of shit... ask anyone who knows me (explains why I only resort the internet to complain, complain, complain).
I usually make fun of those who throw hissy fits at restaurants and other places where one must wait.
Even when I have shit-tastic service, I'll wait... and wait... to the point where I'll often get teary-eyed from the pent-up anger, but... I am never one to walk out or speak up/complain. I just shrug and think that motherfucker SUCKS at his job... and probably life as well.
WELL.
Today was Tyson's second follow up for the little paw.
It's still not completely healed. The bloody area has shrunk considerably, but there still is a bloody area. That shit's unacceptable.
I had made the appointment two weeks ago, on his first follow up.
Aside from my patience, I'm also--for the most part-- very punctual.
I showed up to the appointment--as always-- fifteen minutes early.
No one was waiting at the vet's, and no appointments were ahead of me.
Since Tyson's an antisocial monster, we must perform an entire dance to get him into his room.
First, one of us must walk into the office to make sure no other pets or people are in the waiting area.
Second, we have to announce Tyson's ready to walk in.
Third, the room is prepared, and once the room's available, they leave the door open for him and the assistants get on the other side of their desk.
Fourth, we have to make sure no one is in the parking lot. Once the coast is clear, we practically run him into his room and close the door behind us.
So much hassle for a 102 pound pitbull.
But we have to do this because he has almost murdered two other dogs in the waiting room in seperate occasions... and he has almost bitten two assistants in the past.
The only person he likes is the male vet. Fuck girls. Tyson HATES females (hmm... they say pets resemble their owners... and this little fucker is a clear example of that).
Anyway, the animal hospital has been very, very nice and considerate of this antisocial pet of mine (why don't you just muzzle him and walk in there like the rest of us? You may ask. Tyson's smart, and he's far more dextrous than any fucking dog should be. He uses his paws to remove the muzzle, I KID YOU NOT. Also, since his head shape is so bizarre, muzzles don't fit him like they do other breeds) and I've never had a complaint.
But today...
Today was NOT the day to make me angry.
For one, I went to bed hell of late last night since I once again had to be the mother of the house, because Mom and Dad left on a day trip to LA for a funeral. I had to do everything in the house because D was out being an irresponsible brat.
Once I DID conquer sleep, Mom walked into my room and woke me up, angrily asking for D's location.
I gave her incoherent answers... because I honestly had NO IDEA where the hell D was, and I was also in the middle of some goodass REM sleep when she decided to barge into my room like some fucking ICE officer.
In the morning, I was exhausted from killing myself at the gym the day prior, killing myself at the house the remainder of the previous day, not getting much sleep that night, and then bathing tyson who acts as if water is made of nitric acid in the morning... so when I got to the animal hospital, I wanted to get the shit over with ASAP. It was only a check up, after all.
At first, everything was going great. I was told his room would be ready in a few minutes, so I went outside to chat with Mom--who was handling a hyper Tyson-- while we waited for the room to get ready.
After ten minutes, I walked inside.
Once again, they promised me the room would be ready, and this time, they made me sit inside.
Two people walked in with their pets... and I became furious the moment I saw they were immediately ushered into two of the three rooms.
WTF?!
One of them was NEW to the place, so she clearly had no appointment scheduled... and by now, they were cutting into my appointment time.
I waited some more.
They attended TWO MORE people and their pets.
AN HOUR had passed.
By now, my blood was boiling.
I decided to stand up and hang out by the counter... since apparently that's where people get more attention.
They straight up ignored me.
THE NERVE OF THESE BITCHES!
Instead of getting rude and saying something cunt-y, I just walked out.
No appointment for Tyson.
I was angry about it for about three more hours. I couldn't even eat breakfast.
...
Hopefully I don't update this shit in a week's time to talk about the death of poor Tyson.
Curse you, Mexican irascibility!
4 comments:
That's the straight up Monarrez in you! Haha. My dad and I are the same!
It was infuriating! I blame the Monarrez in getting overlooked, as well. People just don't like us for some unknown reason... grrrr!
What Vet is this? I'd be so pissed! Though I'd go and slam my fist on their front desk! No one ignores me if I have an appointment! EFF THAT!
dude really close to my house. I'm not mad at him though, just irritated with the chicks at the front desk who discriminated against my poor little pit.
:(
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