Do other people’s insurance agents send them birthday cards? Mine does. I have to say, it’s got to be one of the most pointless gestures known to man.
This person who I’ve never actually met sends me a card on my birthday, which she only knows because she needs it to decide on how badly to fuck me over on car insurance, and this is supposed to convince me of…what?
To be honest, I’d rather take the two dollars for the card, plus the fifty cents for the postage, and then subtract that from my bill.
You know who I like to get birthday cards from? People I know. People who I might have some chance of recognizing. You, insurance lady, I wouldn’t know you if we’d both come to Six Flags with a couple, and because we were there in groups of three we ended up being on a rollercoaster together. Even then, I still wouldn’t know who you are.
I do have a couple suggestions of how you could better spend the $2.50.
-Buy some better candy for your desk. I’m not eating those green peppermint wheels no matter how desperate I might be.
-Buy a better dish for said candies. Seriously, Walgreens has a seasonal dish for every time of year. Why I am eating candy out of a plain glass dish when I could be using a giant pumpkin or spring flower?
-Instead of giving away shitty calendars with your logo on them and pictures of some barn at sunrise, how about you buy some decent calendars of fucking Far Side or something?
-Could you laminate the fucking insurance cards instead of putting them in saran wrap?
-Could you kill yourself?
-Could you kill me?