Letter to The Asshole of the Day

Dear Shelley Allen,

You suck. Yes, you completely suck. This morning when I went to the post office to get a passport (which I had to take time off of work for this morning because I know how any Government agency works- like molasses in January on a good day) I was prepared for someone/ something to suck ass, but you really came through.
When I first got up to the desk I thought you seemed nice enough. A little bit lazy but that was to be expected. Your boss was busy yukking it up with your other co-worker about God knows what. But you knew that let you semi off the hook, so you went with it. I loved how annoyed you were when you asked me, "So, you've never applied for a passport?" I can only assume this was annoying to you because if I was only RE-applying it meant less paperwork for you to do.
And then when you took my original birth certificate in your fingers and held it like it was a fresh piece of dog shit and, with one eyebrow raised, asked, "Is this your birth certificate? I don't think it's going to work", I knew we would be best friends. My birth certificate was perfectly legible. It was just old and kind of gray. So I told you, "Really? Well, if it comes to it we could tape it to a piece of paper. It's just kind of old but you can still totally read it. I need to get this done today." With eyebrow still raised you gave me a challenging look and said, 'Yeahhhh...I'm gonna have to ask my Supervisor." So I challenged you back with a firm, "Okay, sure. Thanks" and a bitchy smile. ( I especially hate you for turning me into 'that' girl...bitchy white girl.) I watched you like a hawk while you walked over to your carefree Supervisor. I had this feeling that if your boss was on the fence about whether or not to take the certificate, you, out of unnecessary spite would probably say something like "Are you sure?...we should probably just have her get a new one, this is real hard to read." You bitch. So I watched, and I saw you watch me watching. Your plan was foiled. Haha! So when your boss looked at the certificate and said "Oh dear...but it's fine" I felt your silent defeat. You weren't going to win this power struggle. I quickly said a prayer for the customer who would encounter you after me when you were full of built up frustration at not being able to boss my ass around!
Then we got to the payment. You asked me if I wanted the passport "expedited". I asked you how much that would be. You said "$165" and watched my face for signs of surprise and disappointment. But I knew better. I was already winning this battle of wills and I wasn't going to let you in. "How does that break down?" I asked. I knew you would hate answering and as much as I'd like to say I asked you just to be an annoying bitch, I really just needed to know! Because you know what? I WAS surprised!! I had expected to go in there, pay 100 bucks and get the Hell out! You rolled your eyes and explained that it was 25 for the passport, 75 for some shit and 65 for the rush. I felt that was a retarded amount. I said, "Well online it said that all passports are processed within 4 weeks, so I'm sure it will be fine. Is there a way to check as it gets closer to the time its due?". You were happy to answer "No". But you offered this: "We have to say that it will be done within 4-6 weeks, but it shouldn't be more than 4 weeks total". Damn! You must have surprised yourself! You were cracking!! I softened, but only a little, you had annoyed me too much in the beginning and I was in a hurry. "I'll just do the regular passport thing for $100." Then you said "You'll need a money order for this."
"I have to pay with a money order?" I asked because I couldn't understand how cash was less secure than a fucking money order. "Yeah". So I handed you exactly $101.50. I was slightly pissed off about the money order not making any sense so again, while you were handing me my receipt, I asked, "Why do you have to pay with a money order? Is that just policy?"
"Yep, money order or check only". I could've punched your ass from across the counter. But instead I said "Um, well, you should have told me that because I HAVE checks..." "Oh" you said. "Whatever" I mumbled. Again, I tried not to show any frustration, more of a perplexed "why do mentally retarded people work here" kind of a look cast at you. I couldn't let you WIN!!! At this point it was 1-1 and we were tied for Top Bitch.
"Anything else I can help you with?" you asked with as much boredom you could convey in your voice..."No, thanks, that's it!" I cheerfully said (you didn't get to me! you didn't get to me!!!!) as I slyly looked at your photo ID tag and quickly jotted down your name. I turned and sped out the West Hollywood Post Office doors. You just TRY to fuck with me or my application, Sherry Allen. I've got your number, I've got your fucking number...
The Aggressive End.