“My name is David, I’m your customer service ambassador- ” I don’t give a fuck, David. I was pretty grumpy on the train ride home after I had waited four hours around campus to meet with my professor about a less than savory grade on my exam. As it turned out, he left the document in question in the office of the program coordinator who was off sick today. Looking as hard done by as possible I sent judgey texts to my friends about people in close proximity - a smelly hockey player complete with duffel and fohawk in the same quadrant as me was taking up all of my pouting room and a sickeningly cute expecting MEC couple were reading the ingredients on the wrappers of their Clif bars. Black cherry almond. Ew. Trendy, happy people.
Thankfully my sour bouts only last about 15 minutes - a good song shuffled on and I giggled the rest of my way home. I guess at least if I’m gonna grouch I powergrouch.
