A co-worker of mine, after hearing another co-worker's dissatisfaction with her new condominium's front and back door locks, suggested her locksmith father to her co-worker . In turn, the damzel in distress offered to pass out business cards to her fellow disgruntled neighbors, which was indeed a kind act on her part; however, upon returning to work this Monday, when the locksmith's daughter inquired as to our mutual co-worker's degree of satisfaction with the job that her father did this past Saturday, she heard, "Your father's a really nice guy; he did a great job." Then came a pause . . . , which was followed by "I just don't know why I paid as much as the other five people in my building. I did get him five other jobs." As a witness to the aforementioned dialogue, I attest that the latter comment was offfered with the deepest of sincerity. In defense of the locksmith's daughter, she was as cool as a cucumber, not knowing how to reply to such a preposterous gripe. Now I've never struck a lady, but this woman, who possesses the social graces of a gnat, was begging to be decked, sent stumbling back into the copy machine. Furthermore, upon analyzing the inappropriateness of this woman's gall, I was most appalled by the time that she undoubtedly took to figure out how much the five other tenants had paid the locksmith. I can picture her now, roaming the halls and knocking door to door with the bill in her hand. In her defense, she is a librarian --I means a MEDIA SPECIALIST--whose interactions primarily center around shelves of dusty books and scores of domesticated felines.
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