Hey, we all have a job to do. I understand. It’s tough out there kid, and you have to watch out for yourself.
But why in the fuck would you think that we would happily accept, 30 Yellow Books?
You seemed incredulous at the time, like you just couldn’t believe that anyone would refuse this wonderful bounty. So let me line up some of the evidence:
Exhibit A: Every phone in the building, with the exception of ONE, is less than a foot away from an internet-ready computer. Additionally, computers outnumber telephones by a ratio of about 3:1.
Exhibit B: Entire shelf filled with phone books covering the entire state.
Exhibit C: Phone books distributed throughout the building less than six months prior. Can you make those disintegrate somehow? No? Then I’m all set.
Exhibit D: Probably the most damning of all, I’d like to present last year’s recycling phone books in which over a thousand phone books were dropped off for. recycling. The massive number was spilling into the lobby and required countless extra hours and no less than three personal trips to recycling facilities on my part.
And we’re on to your little fucking scam. You sell the ad space, print up some shit book, and then you have to give them out because that’s what you promised the advertisers. Seriously, why else would we need a new phone book every four months? How much shit is changing in four months, especially considering that no one with even one brain cell working in their sanity center would even dream of calling the phone book place to tell them a current cell phone number? Would you even know how to go about doing that if I asked you to?
The only situation in which a phone book might be of use is if the entire internet went down worldwide, and even then I’m going to have bigger fish to fry than calling some fuck in the phonebook. I’m not jacking off to the phone, so we’ll be getting on this internet thing, pronto.
Listen lady, the real problem isn’t your product. It’s you. And also it’s your product. When I tell you that I need one, just fucking listen. Don’t look at me wide-eyed and slack jawed like you just finished blowing an rhino. Ask me something and then listen. And then when I give you an answer, think about it for a moment instead of saying, “But I brought you 30.” That’s great, and maybe you should have called ahead, if you can even find our number in that stack of phone books, bitch!
Yours in Christ,
Helpful Snowman