When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know.
I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialled it. A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is David. Could I please speak with Robert Campbell?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right f*kin number!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robert's correct number to call him, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
After hanging up with him, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled " You're an Asshole!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word ‘Asshole’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an Asshole!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic ‘Asshole’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from BT . I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?"
He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an Asshole!"
One day I was at Lakeside Shopping Centre, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a gunmetal grey Land Rover cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.
I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number. A couple of days later, right after calling the first Asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the Land Rover Asshole, too. I said, "Is this the man with the gunmetal grey Land Rover for sale?"
Yes, it is", he said. "Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked. "Yes, I live at 129 Alice Street, in Ilford. It's a terraced house, and the car's parked right out in front."
"What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Steve Hansen," he said. "When's a good time to catch you, Steve?"
"I'm home most days as I'm currently unemployed."
"Listen, Steve, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Steve, you're an Asshole!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. Then I came up with an idea.
I called Asshole #1.
Hello." "You're an Asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Steve Hansen."
" Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at 129 Alice Street, Ilford, a terraced house, with my gunmetal grey Land Rover parked out the front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Steve. And you’d better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, Asshole," and hung up.
Then I called Asshole #2. "Hello?" he said.
"Hello, Asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your butt to Kingdom Come," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, Asshole, here's your chance, because I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 129 Alice Street, Ilford, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 5 News about the hoodie war going on down in Alice Street, Ilford.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Alice Street. I got there just in time to watch two Assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six police cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.
NOW I feel much better.
Anger management really works...
