The meeting:

Anne (that bitch who always has a counterpoint):Well, see, when you try to do a warranty exchange… it’s like… they get mad when you tell them that you’ll send them a refurbished phone. You know, I try to tell them that it’s “like new”, but they don’t believe me. You know, I’m just trying to wrap my head around how they think that their supposed to get a new phone when they hit someone in the head with it a la Tyra Banks?

Me: Good point Anne. I know exactly what you mean. Let me go to my desk to get the pamphlet about how we explain what refurbished actually means. I’ll be right back, but please, continue with this dialogue and maybe we can come up with something.

30 seconds later: gulp, gulp, gulp… chase it with a canada dry and breathe deeply, grab the pamphlet, enter with a smile, but don’t breathe on anyone. I’d like to wrap her head around a goddamn baseball bat. She’s driving everyone nuts. Not only that, but the rest are really saying it too much now. “At the end of the day” I’m as shitty as an anal gangbang and twice as tired an asshole.

Oh sorry. I’d like to offer pushback towards the usage of the term “pushback.” I feel it makes one appear to have the approximate maturity level of a small child; not that there is anything wrong with being small, children, or small children; I just feel that in this particular environment it is inappropriate to act like a small child. I’m sorry.