A Letter Composed in Rage

(May you be slightly coherent for readership purposes)

To the two computer/ printer retail twats who are currently employed by Harvey Norman, located in the SupaCenta opposite Moore Park:

You are two of THE most incompetent fucks I've ever had the misfortune to come across in my short lifetime.

First of all, the printer I originally bought, shouldn't have been on sale at all, seeing as it is incompatible with about 75% of computers people own because it is about a decade old, which is probably about how old your latest tafe degree in flogging lowly computer wares is.

Second of all, if the greasy slimeball (greasy ponytail included) wasn't enough, I was then sent into see the king of all fuckwits, Glen Fucking Whichello. Not only did you not look at me throughout the entire time you were lying to me, you also did not speak directly to me once. I don't think anyone appreciates being TALKED AT which is what you did. You sat there with your sad little polyester tie and smirk, and a sad amount of hair product residing in what little hair you have, trying to ignore the fact that you just a lowly little retail assistant who was lucky enough to score a desk in the enquiries area.

But for you to accuse me of "denigrating" the value of the printer, the value of which expired long ago, is just ridiculous.

But why be so childish, as to order the wrong printer for me when I insisted on buying an operating printer?? And charging me about twice more for something I'd already paid for?

Remind me why it is again that people like you are allowed to exist?? Oh that's right, to remind the rest of the world what happens when inferior breeding occurs and mistakes are afforded the benefit of the doubt and are allowed to continue to live.

I feel sorry for you, because while I may not end up leading the most exciting life ever, I at least am aware of what will happen, as opposed to you, trying so hard to ignore the fact that you will be stuck where you are until the next young imbecile prances along and takes your job at the SupaCenta. Also, congratulations for being employed somewhere, where the name of the entire complex isn't even spelt properly to create an air of modernity and forward thinking. Because just like you, it fails miserably.

Live out the rest of your existence in excruciating mediocrity please, I think that would probably be the most fitting punishment.

p.s. for other readers, if this comes across as particularly scathing, please know that I have argued with this dropkick in person , countless times over the phone and wasted so much time it's actually not even funny anymore, and to no avail. I still have no printer.