Yesterday, at Real Work, I was hot and bothered. I was also inspired to write another letter by Mud's fantastic Dear So-and-So letters about her exotic adventures being an 'ex-pat'. There was this... urm... tosser who phoned us. A regular caller, but a tosser none-the-less. At least, he was yesterday (he's not really such a tosser but, like I said, I was hot. And bothered.) The result:
I apologise pre-emptively if you find this letter unnecessarily abrupt, but you just made my blood boil. This may, also, be due to the fact that it’s about eighty five degrees celcius (give or take) out there, and my blood is not used to that, but that is, I fear, beside the point.
You have phoned us regularly with medical questions over the past 12 years that I have worked here and, admittedly, mostly spoken to my collegue who is, also admittedly, quite esteemed. I have, however, helped you too on occasion, and I think you will probably agree that I am, at least, relatively literate.
While I don’t like bandying my qualifications about, I do have a degree, as you know. From a university. In fact, to be honest, it’s an honours degree. Why, then, would you think that I am unable to spell Larry?
I wish you no ill, but next time you phone and leave a message, please, there is no need to spell it out. I may have to do something, or say something, unnecessarily rude and my mother didn't bring me up to do such things. We wouldn't want to upset her, now would we?
Perhaps the heat is getting to me but, honestly... Larry? Why didn't he just ask me to spell cat? It is K-A-T, right?
22 hours ago