Home Microwave Repair...

I am an incredibly impatient person.

I am, as we 'speak', typing furiously so a crazy person who looks like an einstein on crack will stop talking at me about repairing his ancient microwave
at home
by himeself

with an only $28 part....

Oh good he left.  That took FOREVER!!

For the record, can't you buy a whole microwave for about $28 or so these days and not have to spend any time fixing an old one, and in the case of this guy, most likely putting it back together in a way that is going to cause radiation poisoning or blow up his kitchen or something?

This is the JOY that is my job.

Earlier today a 3 year old walked into my office, calling me Alisha repeatedly (which is not even close to my name), and demanding candy.  DEMANDING.

I, for the record, do not have children and am, in general, terrified of them.  They're like small drunks who are also sticky, smell funny, and are likely to accidentally kick you in the uterus (I got kicked there a lot when I taught children to swim at my first job).

I don't happen to have any candy, at the moment.

So said 3 year old, still unattended by any adult as far as I can see, sat on my floor and started fake crying and screaming at me about how he was really depressed and might die from the shock of arriving in my office without finding the expected candy.

TWENTY SEVEN minutes later his grandfather came in and thanked me for watching him.  As if I'd agreed to do it.  And his grandfather isn't even a crazy public access producer, he's my coworker.

I just get ALL of the luck.

All of it.

UPDATE:  crackhead Einstein is back!!!  And demanding that I explain to him exactly why sometimes there is a dud dvd in a spindle.  And basically insinuating that I'm just a big fat liar and that this doesn't REALLY happen, but I just TELL him some of his dvd's are bad dvd's.
To censor him.

Because that's me, you know.  I've been informed several times since working here that I am "the man" and am hiding the truth and making things difficult and discriminating against older, privilaged, retired white men for one reason or another.

I swear there is no amount of typing or quite the right combination of concentration facial expression elements I can muster into one face that will make this guy stop talking.

Maybe I'll pretend to answer the phone....

I told him it was on vibrate (my desk phone, not a cell phone) one time and he believed me...



UPDATE:
Picking up the phone and talking to the dial tone did not help.  Crackhead Einstein just talked louder and included a lot of gestures, like the thought he was signing to me, but not even remotely close to sign language.

I'm going to just pretend I have to pee now. 
And then hide in there for a long time.