Speaking of being flakey…
I’m flakey because I’m BUSY, OK?! Holy cow.
So today I ran from Job #1 to home where I was attempting to work on Job #3 until I have to leave for Job #2 in like 15 minutes. This jerk of a treetrimmer shows up at my door and is all, hey, is that your red Toyota?
Me: Yeah.
Jerk Treetrimmer: Uh, so could you move it? We’re trimming the tree above it.
Me: OK. Well, hey I’m in the middle of changing to go to work, can you trim it in a couple minutes after I leave?
JT: Well, I could fill your bed with branches. hahahaha.
Me: Heh.
JT: You’re just now going to work? I’ve been out here since 6 am!
Me: (putting on my shoes in the realization that he will not help me out) I work three jobs so don’t get too excited.
JT: Oh man you make me excited.
Me (internally) WTH? (outloud) Harumph.
I move my truck, JT nudges other JT and laughs, as I run back upstairs to finish putting on my atrocious horse-teacher get-up.
This is why I need to live in the country. I need freedom to run jerks off my doorstep with a shotgun.
4 comments found