Daily Self-Esteem Boost

Some old man called the office this morning asking if I knew if Obama takes 3,000 Secret Service agents with him when he travels. Having absolutely no clue Thinking it was a matter of national security that the number of agents traveling with the president at various times remain a secret, I politely told him that that was beyond my knowledge. Plus, I'm just a lowly intern, they don't tell me these things. He wasn't too happy with that explanation so he got my name and told me that I am "an ignorant idiot who doesn't deserve to work in a Congressional office." Gee, thanks.

Don't Misunderestimate My Generation

I was told by the first caller of the day that I should consider moving to Russia, Canada, or Mexico when I'm in my 40's because they take care of all of their citizens over the age of 60. (I commented that Russia and Canada were far too cold for my liking.) He told me that when I am his age, I will be looking to the government to help me out with my bills, medical insurance, ect. and that the United States won't help me because my generation doesn't matter.

Go on to one of those great countries, you goofy old bastard, and let me know just how much you enjoy it.

If I was allowed to do case work, I'd run the shit out of this office. Oh, wait, I'm the only one here... again. I'd better be getting one stellar recommendation.

Okay, fine, not all consitutents are bad. They may give these long-winded speeches about how much they hate illegals (I don't blame them for that one) but when a 76 year-old man tells me at the end: "You've been very kind and such a jewel for listening to this old man's rants. Don't forget that you and your peers with all the energy and all the brains can truly make a difference in America," it makes the aforementioned goofy old bastard's comment about my generation look just plain silly.

Misunderestimate is a great word. Thank you, W., for inventing it.

Letter of the Day

Contents of a letter we received at the office today, about three-quarters of the way down a sheet of notebook paper torn out of a spiral:

"You need to award every freshman student with a free 40-ounce smoothie from Smoothie King for perfect A's and B's on their report cards."

The senior case worker in the office wanted to take this letter seriously. She tried to defend it by saying that the hand writing looked like it belonged to a little kid. I can find a few issues with that defense:

1. Many of my guy friends have hand writing similar to that kid's. Just because the only male case worker in the office has extremely girlie hand writing doesn't mean all males do.

2. Key word: Freshman.

3. The kid was probably high as a fucking kite and craving Smoothie King. End of story! I am NOT putting that in the computer as a legislative comment and you cannot make me do it.

I also forgot that today was Ash Wednesday and was very very close to telling the male case worker in the office that he had dirt on his forehead when he came into the office after his morning Mass. Thank God I am learning to think before I speak. Additionally, I haven't decided what I'm giving up for Lent. I'm not Catholic. I don't even really care. I just feel that with Spring Break coming up and everything, I should give some kind of food up. 

Dear Congress,

Stop "considering" stupid bills and work on fixing our country. Thanks.

If anyone calls today about H.R. 80 (aka the Captive Primate Safety Act) I will laugh in their face. Seriously, if you buy any sort of pet with a mind of its own, you automatically assume the risk that your pet might kick your ass. I think the only exception to that would be a fish-- and one without teeth, if we're being technical.

Was it Monday or was it just me?

White Trash Woman: I need help with a prison matter.

Me: Okay, ma'am is it a state or federal prison?

WTW: I'll let you figure that out at the end. First, you have to hear my story.

Me: Alright, go ahead.

WTW [the short version]: My daddy died in prison from liver sorosis. My brother got the same thing when he was in the same prison as my daddy but I got him better by making him drink bottles of aloe vera gel. My son is now in prison-

Me: The same prison or a different one?

WTW: A different one... it's [gives name of prison so I can Google it]. Now, he's had a broken hand since he first got in there almost two years ago and none of the doctors will treat it. And he had a really good job in the kitchen there and had to be up in there at 3:00 in the morning every day. But then, the lunch ladies or whoever the hell they are started telling him to give them sexual pleasure and fuck them or else they're going to report him to the Warden for sexual har-ASS-munt and they'll start a CASE on him. Now, I don't care that he's fucking them. They're actually doing him a favor. I know he likes to fuck and at least I know he's not fucking any of those men he's in prison with.....

WTW then goes on and on with her story and getting more and more upset by the end of it. I had figured out that her matter was of state jurisdiction and we couldn't do anything for her after she told me the name of the prison. So, I had to listen to her talk about this for about ten more minutes before I could tell her to call her State Senator.

THEN

An African-American man who had been convicted and served time for two felony kidnappings (among a few other illegal acts) called wanting God knows what about his Social Security Disability. He yelled at me and told me to stop giving him "the run-around" and giving him "setbacks" while I was trying to tell him that he wasn't in our district so we couldn't do anything for him. He wouldn't hear anything about it so he asked for someone with "ah-thor-ah-teh" in a voice that sounded just like Cartman from South Park. While I was dying laughing, I transfered him to the case worker I was there with. The guy ended up hanging up on the case worker. The guy called back about 15 minutes later and proceeded to yell at me some more before I yelled back at him and finally hung up on him because he was being so unreasonable and difficult to work with. The third time he called, another staffer tried to talk to him and tell him to call the other congressional office in town and after he wouldn't, she told him that he wasn't allowed to call our office again so he hung up on her. We didn't hear from him again for the rest of the day.

Did these crazy people call because it's a Monday or did they call just because they know I'm working? The case worker told me they haven't gotten such crazy calls before I started interning there. I attract the crazies. No wonder I'm still single.

Crazy Friday

It was just that kind of day were the most random people called the office. It was just the 28 year-old case worker and I today and we laughed for about 15 minutes straight after our very first caller of the day:

Me: Good morning, office of Congressman Badass.

Indian Man: Yes, I have a question. I have three wives over in India and I was wondering if it was okay if I married another one.

Me: Well, yes, that's okay if it's legal in India. Are you a permanent resident or a citizen?

Indian Man: I'm a permanent resident.

Me: Do you have a wife here?

Indian Man: We recently got divorced. [I'm hoping this was after she found out about his three other wives.]

Me: Okay, very good. Is there anything else?

Indian Man: Yes. Can I bring my wives over?

Me: Um. No... That's illegal in the United States. You can being one over but...

Indian Man: Oh, no, that's okay. That's fine. I'll just pick my favorite one and the rest can stay there. Thanks! -Click.-

WHAT?! We talked about that exact type of situation in my globalization class but I never thought I'd ever encounter it in person. Ri-damn-diculous. 

I also found this hilarious video this morning... High Five!

Shkibaaaaaaa.

I'm currently in the office. Alone. All alone. All alone and so incredibly bored. Today's entertainment: A lady and her family from Afghanistan are having issues with USCIS, not unlike most people who go to their Congresspeople for help. USCIS = US Citizenship and Immigration Services (for those new to the program). Apparently this lady isn't very tech savvy because she faxed 17 pages over here one by one. And let me tell you, our fax machine is one of those really annoying HP ones that has a ridiculous ring to it. I wanted to go all Office Space on its ass and murder it.

I think I get to leave early because all I'm doing is answering the phone and occupying space. I hope I do. I'm bored.

Update: The lady faxed 19 pages over. I figured out about a half an hour later that the fax machine was out of paper and out came two more glorious pages from her. I didn't get to leave early either. It's Friday at 5:00 and I could settle down with a good book and be okay for the night. I'm lame.