just sign here and we’ll euthanize your dog

it seemed so commonplace when the words came out of the mouth of the animal control person.  she was husky and stood about 5 feet 8 inches in her black army boots.  oddly enough she never once removed her bluetooth headset from her ear as she corralled my now former dog and loaded him into the back of her van.  understandably, she needed my consent to kill an animal but it was in her delivery, just as i would suspect an accountant who was doing my taxes delivers his request for my signature.  all cold and ‘i’ve done this a million times‘.

let me start back a few months ago.  i got a small pit bull named max from a shelter.  yeah yeah, i’m allll considerate and adopting and whatnot.  this was against the advice of my girlfriend who suggested i get the dog from a breeder.  whatever.  in any case i bring max home and proceed to the usual steps of: dog gets home to new place, pees on floor, i clean up, i scold dog, dog pees again, i clean up and once again scold dog, dog craps on floor, i get fed up and clean up and dog bites me.  welcome home asshole.  way to do something nice.

fast forward a few months later and the dog for whatever reason hates my girlfriend.  she tried to like him, she really did.  but a couple times he came close to damn near taking her hand off when she held out a bone and he went for it.  the other night i was fucking around with him and the goddamn thing bit my fucking hand, broke skin and left like 9 teeth marks.  

so i had it.  i called animal control for them to come and take care of the dog for me.  and by ‘take care’ of the dog i mean i’m okay with them handling it like the mafia did.  with my tax dollars hard at work the animal control woman arrived 3 hours later.  punctual and fast moving.  she shows up and says “we gotta call about a dog“.  i said “yeah, he’s locked in my bedroom, do whatever the hell you want“.  now, i’m not one to preach about abusing animals.  i loved and cared for max, but the fucker actually bit me and not just once, i actually lost count.  that’s how many times he bit me.  done deal, he’s out.

i swear as she was wrangling the dog she actually picked up a call on her headset.  what the fuck.  so she loads the dog in the back of her van and is doing the paperwork.  now, in theory, i’m not actually asking for any sort of sensitivity or compassion since i’m asking her to euthanize my dog but the whole ‘i’ve done this so many times i’m a robot‘ thing just wasn’t cutting it.

name? she barks at me.  can you spell that? she snaps.  where’d you get the dog? i need to see a photo id? an id, why didn’t you just ask for that rather than make me spell my name?  alright all set, just sign here and we’ll euthanize your dog.  and that was it.  with the swift hit of a pen on a 3 copy sheet of paper over a metal clipboard my dog was out of my life.  again, my tax dollars hard at work.  now i’m off to go buy some cleaner for my carpet before my landlord sees the piss stains.  it’s now time to give billy mayes some more of my cash.

4 hours at the unemployment office

it’s 9:15am and i walk into the local unemployment office.  yeah, i’m laid off, so what.  the sad part isn’t that i’m laid off, no the sad part is that as i walk in and fill out my obligatory form i look down on the sheet and realize i’m number 117 in line.  yep, 117.  they started with 1 and were somewhere near 12 when i arrived.  thank you government workers.  now i have nothing against these people, i just have a beef with everyone else that’s there at the same time.

i can take being number 117, i can take the mixing smell of body odor and deep fryer oil, i can take the crying babies and obnoxious ringtones that are played too loud by people who can find their fucking cell phone when it rings, and i can take the fact that it’s standing room only and that i didn’t bring a book.  fuck me.  what i can’t take is the stupid people who march right up to the counter, interrupt the person who decides whether or not to give you money (brilliant fucking idea asshole) only to utter the most despised words at the unemployment office: but i only have a question.  

hey rim job, we all have questions.  all 117 of us, we all have questions, that’s why we’re here.  do you think for a second i would be here if i didn’t need the money?   i don’t care that you think this is bullshit, we all do, all 117 of us.  i don’t care that you don’t have time for this.  do you think any of us do?

i’m reminded of fight club when this is happening.  you know what asshole: you’re not different, you’re not unique, you’re an individual and you certainly aren’t special like you’re mother kept telling you all those years.  you’re a number just like me.  now grab you’re number, sit down, turn off your cell phone, shut the fuck up and wait you’re turn like the rest of us.  

and for the record: it took 4 hours, to the minute, for me to get to speak to someone.  what did that amount to in monetary terms: the equivalent of $2.87 per hour.  yes, i make per hour somewhere between what soldiers and prisoners make, though with less chance of death or anal rape.  for that small bit i am somewhat grateful.