Friday, May 1, 2009

We Are Humoring You.

I do not work for the Salvation Army. This place isn't fucking Amvets. Both worthy organizations, however both have very very little to do with mine.

So why, Mr. Dicknose, do you think you can just dump all of your shit on our doorstep? Now I have to haul all of your baby bottles and clothing up to my office, take an inventory, and then find somewhere for it to go. It's not my job to the be the fucking middle man, and you're telling all of your friends about us? We are doing you a favor, jagoff.

People with too much money piss me off. Oh, I'll just give you this old breast pump and these cracked dishes, so you can disperse it amongst needy elementary schools.

No, Dicknose, that's not how it works. We're humoring you, my boss and I, because you have an important daddy, and pretending we're flattered and grateful for this broken alarm clock, for these six artificial decorative pears, for used underwear and a furniture painting kit. Your generosity with the inner-city children is tremendous. I know that our schools will be able to put this horseshit to good, creative use.

That, or I'm just going to haul it over to Salvation Army myself, and save you the trip. Hopefully someday you will give us something useful. For example? Art supplies. Pencils, notebooks. Computer equipment.

And then there's Mr. Silver Spoon Scholarship Man, who feels like the reception we have for his scholars isn't classy enough, so could we throw a benefit at this expensive dinner restaurant? This will cost our organization four thousand dollars.

They're fourth graders, sir. I know you want them to have the experience of eating at some fancy establishment, but none of them are going to care about asparagus pasta with butter garlic sauce and whitefish vomit with capers. They want cheese fucking pizza, maybe sausage. They want to eat their swirly ice cream in tiny paper cups with flat wooden double-sided spoons. We do not have unlimited funds, here.

Okay, sir. Whatever you say.

I hate that my boss is a pushover.

...

16 comments:

Mongoliangirl said...

Wha-da-wha-da-whaaaaaat? Is my brother up there in Chicago again? That rich retarded bastard! I TOLD him to say within the city limits and keep his shit at home.

Blues said...

The worst thing about it is these people go home and jerk off to what good people they are. It gives them a two day high.

pistols at dawn said...

You say "used underwear" like there's another kind.

Mia Watts said...

I bet he requested a tax receipt too. Nice.

Perfect word verification: spite

formerly fun said...

This is what's wrong about being raised with wealth. Even if you're a nice person, you just lose touch. Now I know this doesn't apply to everybody but there seems to be a real difference between the people that made their own wealth and people raised with money.

Kiefer and Emo said...

I hate dicknoses with artificial decorative pears. Really raises my skin and gets under my hackles. I think.

Gwen said...

That's infuriating. I know people like this, too. Who will only donate their broken, worn out shit and feel like their donation qualifies them for fucking sainthood. I, personally, hope that there's someone up there keeping score. Like, "A broken alarm clock? Really? Oh you are so going to hell."

daisyfae said...

aaaaaaaaargh! when i was on the board at planned parenthood, we were very good at picking the pockets of the wealthy with black tie fundraisers... and it made me cringe, as i was serving them champagne and chocolate covered strawberries on silver trays, to listen to them talk about voting for this republican butt-head anti-choice senator or that one...

but i remembered that the $500 they paid to attend bought a lot of freakin' rubbers...

Elizabeth said...

I'm soo glad you mentioned this. I had to deal with this problem a lot in Senegal. I saw things like stockpiles of ugly yarn and a hook, broken sewing machines, broken computers (that had the word broken on them when they arrived...thank you for that dose of heavy metal), and the shittiest French books and magazines from the 60s and 70s. Sometimes charity is an ugly game...

hereinfranklin said...

Yeah--all the kids I know (poor or not) love asparagus and capers. I, however, am partial to whitefish vomit. After years of cooking for the teenagers at church, I finally learned--tacos, pizza, hot dogs, tacos, pizza, hot dogs.

A Free Man said...

Don't you wish sometimes that you had some kind of imperial mandate to just beat the shit out of some asshole just because he rubbed you the wrong way? That would totally rock.

Erin said...

Decorative pears? How do people end up with this stuff?

I once bought a plastic carrot from Salvation Army, but it was for a dirty prank.

Now that I'm thinking about it, your group could get some serious exposure in the art world if your inner-city kids made sculptures out of the useless, secondhand crap that rich people thoughtlessly donate to them.

prayingtodarwin said...

Erin is a genius.

The Ambiguous Blob said...

My biggest complaint about my boss is that she has no balls. Yeah, all of our leadership lurves her- she'll agree to any amount of work at the last minute.
Which meas that her team has to scramble and drop everything and work til 11:30pm on Saturdays at times. Because when I refuse the unreasonable amount of work that she demands, she gets shitty with me for a month. Ef that noise.

Rassles said...

Mongo: How about he just gives it to people who can fucking use it?

Blues: You just gave me bad, scary images, you whore.

Pistols: It could have been new. That would be nice.

Mia: Oh, of course he needed a receipt. That's what the goddamn inventory was for.

FF: There's always an exception to the rule. But the majority of those guys exemplify the stereotypes.

Keifer (Emo?): Decorative fruits of all kinds are frustrating, in my experience.

Gwen: Also? We work with schools. Seriously. I don't want your goddamn breast pump.

Daisy: Oh, we're good at it too. But I think not even half the people that donate even know what we do.

Elizabeth: It really is. Just because a person isn't as well-off as you (by your perspective, at that, because that person may not consider herself less well-off) doesn't mean they're going to be grateful to dig through your trash. Oh, I like that. Ima gonna say it all the time.

Franklin: Or mac and cheese. (I do love fish and capers, but fourth graders?)

Freeman: Waterboard the rich!

Erin: Don't knock it, man, decorative pears are a lucrative investment. And by lucrative, I mean fruitful.

Ginny: I know, right?

Ambiblob: Yep, my boss is the exact same way. He commits to all this bullshit and then piles it on the rest of us, and I don't get paid enough for that.

Gypsy said...

Jagoff is a sadly underused word. I say it's the next nards. Maybe.

Also, stingy rich people suck.