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Frustrations

R. Ross Whalen • Apr 25, 2021
What is the ultimate reason we become friustrated? Is it because my fingers are like fat sausages and I typed frustrated wrong? Could be one of the ten thousand reasons I become frustrated. Currently my frustrations are limited to a book conversion which isn’t quite working out right.

I’ll get over it of course. If my Wifesty doesn’t kill me first. I have given her enough reason to bury me under a couple of rose bushes. She has her own frustrations of course; I simply add to them.

So, let’s examine frustration. What frustrates you? Is it the way others drive? That’s a biggy for me. When I was younger, in the first days of arcade video games, I had a box in my truck which emulated the sounds of destructions from the video games. It was wonderful. If someone pissed me off, I would push the button and machine gun fire would erupt. Or the sounds of a bomb or a couple of other exquisite sounds meant to relieve my frustration over being stuck in traffic.

If anyone out there had been on Oahu in the early eighties, you’d understand. I lived in Aiea just twelve miles from Pearl Harbor Naval Base. In the three years I was stationed there, I never got out of second gear during rush hour. You would speed up and shift from first to second and bam – Stop.

The curse words and foulness which flowed from my mouth was legendary. There was another legendary thing going on the island at the same time. The bus or rather Da Bus as the locals called it. If you took the bus from where I had to pick it up to the base, I could get there in 35 minutes during rush hour. 

If I drove, it took an hour, sometimes almost an hour and a half. Sheer magic of a bus. Especially when you realize they drove on the same roads as you did and were monsters in size. Yet, they got there faster. I stopped driving of course. Let someone else handle the frustration of driving on Oahu. 

Driving in California is no picnic of course, but I have never had such a mind melting experience as driving on Oahu. 

Driving is one source of frustration. So is Microsoft Word. Where do I begin? It takes a great deal to get such things as tables, charts, and pictures right for conversion. I don’t know how many times I was ready to pluck my own eyeballs out and stare into them. I have screamed as I got everything right on a piece I was converting to a PDF only to have it come out as shit. Yes, I didn’t sugar coat it. It came out like complete utter dog shit. On fire and smelly.

I got it right of course. You can’t submit shit to a client. Though some have which is also a frustration of mine. Customer service in this country is about as bad as I have experienced it. I mean, it really sucks, doesn’t it? Somewhere along the line some efficiency expert decided customer service was a waste of time and money.

Look at Walmart. Sam Walton made billions, not because he provided the lowest price or the best product, but when he was alive Walmart was the epitome of customer service. Now? Who wants to go into one anymore? Before he died, Wally World was a meeting place for people. I try my best to never set foot in one now. I can’t stand them.

Frustrated yet? You should be. Right now, you are reading a blogpost from a man venting his own frustrations which often lead others to vent theirs. Which leads to entire groups gripin’ and bitchin’. Who wants to be around anyone who is running their mouths off venting about what frustrates them? I certainly don’t.

I have had my time venting. It is a rant after all. Now I have to shut up and suck it up as I ponder whether or not to kill my computer as I wait for it to show me the newest project I have to covert from a Word doc to an eBook. An unformatted Word doc with several significant problems editorially. It is a fun Sunday. 

Of course, there are so many worse things in life then to have something to complain about. I live a great life with a great wife and truly my bitchin’ is only created by my own frustration which in reality is simply a product of my lack of patience. Someone needs to hit me in the back of the head with a brick.

Any volunteers?

I’m Ross, The Editor-in-Chief at The Pyrateheart Press and I’m out.
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