I’m a miracle worker. Did you know that? Apparently things that are basically impossible can happen. On demand. You simply have to ask.
Today, for example, I dealt with a customer who was in dire need of one of my miracles. A school shirt she had purchased for her son wasn’t top notch quality. She returned it of course. She even got a full refund. For good measure, she also abused the Store Manager. She wanted more, though. She wanted a miracle.
She wanted the company to create the same shirt, but better quality. A refund wasn’t enough. She didn’t want a different shirt. She wanted THAT shirt but better and she wanted it NOW. Suggesting a better quality item to the manufacturer for next year simply was not an option. Sending them an email was not an option. She wanted them to call her back.
I’m the miracle worker, you see. I make the impossible possible. Unfortunately my magic is not advanced enough to banish the likes of this women onto a planet far far away.
The sense of entitlement of this women (and other members of society, at that) inspire in me a desire to make life as difficult as possible for them. I’m no miracle worker. I’m most definitely not here to give into a customers every desire. If that were the case, I’d be sitting down stitching this new shirt by hand instead of typing this blog.
Humanities sense of entitlement extends beyond customer service. Whilst participating in some circuit interval training at the gym, some lady used a machine for over 2 minutes as opposed to the required 30 seconds. Upon standing besides her, huffing and sweating away, waiting for her to finish what she should have finished a minute ago, she had the nerve to shoot me a glare.
I’m not the one in fault lady! Go to another class if you want to workout on your own terms. Better yet, invest in the machine, take it home and live happily ever after with it. Just don’t hold up my workout!
How about people with very poor time management? Whilst this deserves a post for itself (and it will get one, trust me), I’ll briefly touch on how selfish it is for people to think their time is better than others time. I’m speaking about those people continuously late to work, to dinner, to coffee or (even worse) to a movie. They prance in with an air of indiffierence with their petty excuses expecting to be forgiven out of pity.
NO! Simply no. Your time is no more valuable than that of others. You’re no more valuable than any one else.
Selfishly entitled beings, rid yourself of your pathetic sense of entitlement and get off that ridiculous high horse of yours or else you’ll be galloping your way into people’s bad books and a life of loneliness.
Rule for Humanity: A sense of entitlement only entitles you to ridicule.