Yes, indeed, HB; your #14 is a doozy, and it gets more irritating when it happens in person.
You\'ve just completed a form or appliction or something. Your paper is taken to the idiot who\'s supposed to handle your case. And you wait, and wait, and wait.
Finally, the receptionist butchers your last name while announceing your turn. You are already beside yourself because a couple of people who came after you, walked in ahead of you, after talking to the receptionist as though they had known each other for decades. When the door opened, Mr Big Stuff walked by you at the launge with the previous visitor and they spent another 45 mins talking at the doorway or in the hallway.
So you know by the time you were called up, you are steaming, ready to power the space shuttle to Mars. You walk in. Mr big Stuff apologises for wasting your time, like you give a damn, and spends another 7 mins explaining to you what their business is. Meanwhile, you are white hot, suppressing an explossion that is long overdue.
He begins to funble for your paper and then finds it right under his very nose. There\'s no mistaking the steam and smoke shooting from your ears and nose and eyes. He picks it up, reclines, and lets out a series of uhuus and mhhs. The only thing restraining you from exploding is the consolation that he is reading your paperwork. He puts it down and asks,
\"Now, what can I do for you?\"
\"I want you to get off that seat so I can occupy it, stupid,\" your mind must be yelling. But being the good Christian that you are, you quietly and calmly relate the same business your had gone over on the phone before you got there.
\"What\'s your name, again?\" he asks.
\"My name is You,... F**** You,\" your mind says it before your mouth remembers your real name. But you politely point out that it is on the paper in front of him.
He apologises sarcastically and then asks, \"how do you prononuce your last name?\" He then makes you reapeat it several time as if he wouldn\'t graduate this summer if he doesn\'t learn to pronounce your name.
I think this is where Houston reports they have lost a rocket over the Atlantic or some Godforsaken area, because the man just asks you your phone number.