The guy was egotistical, impatient and a pain in the ass sulking inside a hand-tailored suit.
I hated him. Period.
Fortunately, there were options.
“Expect your license to arrive in seven to ten business days,” I said.
The arrogant prick mumbled a string of curse words before storming away from my counter. Too bad, I thought. He was missing the best part.
I stapled his renewal application to his receipt of payment and then dropped it into the wire basket. The same wire basket where all my rejected applications go to die.
See you in seven to ten business weeks.
