the utter bloody rudeness of everyday life...
or idp sucks donkey balls

i'm fairly sure that lynne truss wouldn't mind that i poached part of the title of her book considering that i earn zilch from this blog and the fact that i have an even more meagre readership. besides, i'm sure she has better things to do than google all day to hunt down poachers like me. while she takes on the world's foulest with zest and humour, i prefer to go on a rampage. just because.

rudeness is everywhere. lurking in nook and cranny- preparing to lunge and snap at unsuspecting victims. today it coiled and waited in a bright, barren office in a posh building in a posh area. there i was in the idp waiting area near the front desk having survived a long and perilous journey. yes perilous. one word: traffic. of the human persuasion. besides too much sun isn't good for your skin (i take unverified cancer rumours seriously). i was attended by a young man at first and i explained my enquiry as clearly as i could. he seemed a tad confused at first but once the fog cleared, he explained to me that idp doesn't carry out the service i was after. he then told me a couple of things which i could try and approach on my own. he was abrupt but i understood for he was one man manning a desk that juggled between incessant phonecalls and people with their own baggage of enquiries. now i have reliable information about the fact that idp does actually carry out the service i was seeking. so after i finished signing my forms, i thought to ask him more questions. perhaps clear the matter further so that he could see the whole picture and refer me to the appropriate counsellor instead of just giving me a token favour by agreeing to help fax my documents.

enter the queen bitch of rudeness. as i stood there waiting for my turn to communicate with front desk, a young woman in a smart suit, face caked with make-up and tinted hair, faded dull, attended to me. pretty but it belies an ugly demeanour. i explained to her again but before i got to finish, she mumbled to her colleague her incredulity at my request. in fact, she was so flabbergasted that she refused to communicate with me aside from the abrupt retort that "idp doesn't help students make payment" (which is bullshit) nor did she want to listen to my explanation that a friend had recently (and successfully) attained an idp counsellor's assistance in finishing her application for her fourth year in uwa psych. when i told her how my friend was assisted with the payment and that the idp counsellor went as far as dealing with her bank draft, she retorted again "then i don't know, someone must have taken your friend's bank draft". sure. a wandering, thieving vagabond masqueraded as an idp counsellor to steal bankdrafts and perpetuate his life in crime. cut out the fucking piece of patronisation and eat it yourself. i sure as hell don't want it.

all she did was to continue doing whatever she was doing, eyes cast downwards (effectively ignoring when i was still talking to her) with a humourless, incredulous smirk- as if hoping that the crazy bag lady with her paper forms spilling over her hands would go away and leave them alone. she didn't even bother to talk to me or ask me questions to perhaps get to the crux of the matter. there's only so much explaining i can do if the other party plays the dull, brick wall. she barely managed to give me the token favour of faxing my documents. but she did. probably just an attempt to get me out of there. no information, no advice, no nothing to help me out with my current situation. i walked away even more confused and severely pissed.

rude and unhelpful... and idp is supposedly a service-oriented institution. i foresee that gems or whatever it's called... that whole "great service starts with me" thing that the government and the media are shamelessly plugging will crash and burn. just like the courtesy campaign. or the smile campaign or whatever bloody campaign that's plagued the nation's consciousness. it's just going to be another excuse for other nations to laugh and scoff at the need to push the awareness for common courtesy to such an extent when it is meant to be an intergral part of our etiquette and upbringing in the first place.

i find myself standing at a crossroad. do i let go of this one more bad account, let it run down and off my duck back and continue with niceties which can be potentially rewarding but slightly pretentious? or should i just throw in the (meagre) towel, that is gandhi's loincloth, accept the futility of being nice in today's society and let the bitter bitch in me run free? these days there are shouting banshees from hell (read: razoo's blogpost), yelling starbucks baristas (i feel you, deena!), shoving masses of rabid zombies (read: the average mass of pedestrians) and grouchy, secretarial goblins. i'm being poisoned slowly but surely by all the negativity that people do unto others. and nothing feels better right now than to lash back with all the vengeance and venom of a long bottled fury. i'm going to snap someday. and when i do, that's more poison permeating into the air. for those who're nice and lovely, continue to be so. remember to share and spread the love because soon, i'm afraid there's going to be none.