Accounts of the Living Dead

Using zombie graphics humorously symbolize accounts that Will Not Die, while at the same time blatantly appealing to Justin's fondness for zombies

Well it's shaping up to be one of those weeks.

I finally got rid of the aforementioned hell-spawn from earlier in the week. She left a message for my boss, and he was like "I'm just deleting this."

But then ANOTHER hateful blast from the past came back to haunt me. This woman runs a very small company, and she is totally insane. She also suffers from a case of verbal Montezuma's revenge (diarrhea just doesn't cover it). She had been through everyone in the company today, trying to get her net terms re-instated. She had talked one of the guys into giving her a $1K line, against my recommendation, but because she got greedy, a supervisor looked at it today and revoked her terms completely. After she wasted hours of everyone's time, they finally sent her to my desk, because they were sick of listening to her. She is the epitome of our consumer culture now. She has been trained that if she whines longly and loudly enough, she will get what she wants, deserved, fair, or not. I simply but firmly told her she was not getting what she wanted, that the records would remain the same, and that she had wasted quite enough of everyone's time today. Needless to say, she went ballistic, and I ended up working late to go over her worthless account.

It has been that kind of week. I have had repeated queries from "Business Development" ("scraping the bottom of the barrel" dept, in English) about "target accounts" with whom the suppliers want us to "explore opportunities" (translation: these people have told the suppliers they have pending deals for a large amount of product, but the vendors won't touch them with a 10 foot pole). My favorite one was an email from BD about an account marked "suspicious". "What does that mean?" He wanted to know. Fraudulent, I explained. "Oh" he replied. Now what the hell did he THINK it meant? That this was a good opportunity?

At last, though, the day was over, and I shopped a bit on the way home, got some gas, and generally tried to exorcise the Vile Lucy (the account I stayed late for) from my mind. When I got home, I was ready just to relax and let Jon Stewart charm the rest of the day away.

But when I went to wash the supper dishes, I found I had no hot water. Again. This is the third water heater that has died since moving in 10 years ago. They are gas, and the bottoms keep burning through them. The last one cost $900. I am really sick of buying water heaters. But I resignedly left a message for the plumber, and went to bed.