Yesterday I was at my University's Registar Office, waiting in a long line to pass off some paperwork. The two students immediately in front of me were obviously ESL and although they spoke perfectly clear (albeit heavily accented) English, the woman at the desk was treating them like they were freaking morons. Every time they asked a question that
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Don't be. She earned it, and she's the one working at her job where you're supposed to be professional. If she gives you a hard time because you-- justifiably-- called her on her bullshit, then you can file a formal complaint against her.
I'm pretty much pissed off all the damned time, too. For me, that's the form my depression takes when it's "manageable", so I spend a lot of time furious about one thing or another and the rest of the time trying to figure out the best way to handle being enraged at the universe.
Being told to "calm down" or "mellow out" or "eat right" or "meditate"... That doesn't help. If anything, it's even more infuriating.
"Eating more like you isn't going to uncurve my spine, fix my bipolar, pay off my debts OR punch my old roomates in the face."; I have said things like that to my friends, precisely because they're my friends. There's no diplomatic response to that, of course, but it's the truth, and goddamn it, I think we're all ( ... )
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