“No, you’re supposed to put it in like THIS, and once you have it in the box THEN you can have the sorter start it up, NOT like you tried to do just NOW and...”
Patience was wearing thin, on both ends.
Ditzy Doo was not a clever pony, but she knew how to do what she was told. The head manager of the carrier company was a very meticulous pony, but was very vague with explanations: a combination that always had Ditzy on the receiving end of a condescending and oft-parroted lecture on how to perform the task at hand. Ironically enough, it was only then that Ditzy was actually able to get the full story on the matter, to be able to do the task proper.
“...and so you’re telling me you can’t handle a task as simple as that?! It’s not even that hard! IT GOES IN THE BOX FIRST, AND THEN OVER TO THE...”
But really, there was a point when it gets to be too much to bear: one shout too many, one insult too far. A wellspring of emotion, like a bed of kindle, ready to be lit. Each harsh word a stroke against a flintstone, threatening to set the mass ablaze.
“... and THAT’S how you do it! Do you hear me? Are you capable of understanding what I’m saying, now, for once, or are your ears just as messed as your eyes?”
The fire ignited.
“So you’re telling me that all of your problems are because I’m disabled? You hire me to effectively take advantage of the fact that I’m cheap labour that gets you government benefits, but have the GALL to blame me for it?!”
The manager jumped back, startled enough to release the magical grip on his pencil and clipboard. An expression of pure horrific shock adorned his face, as though Ditzy had grown another set of wings and brandished a cleaver.
“You can’t even tell me my job right! The only reason I end up doing it wrong is because YOU CAN’T EVEN EXPLAIN ANYTHING! You couldn’t tell someone to open a jar without an hour and a sem-ney-ar!
“Day in and day out, I come back to work because I need some extra bits to feed my daughter, only to face ever-growing piles of steaming, abusive MANURE—” the gruff manager jumped again, ruffling his hair and nearly making him trip over a length of cable on the ground, “—at the hooves of what has to be Equestria’s least competent employer in the history of WHENEVER!”
Ditzy began to advance on the larger pony, wing flaring menacingly, making him shy backwards and contorting his look of horror to one more reminiscent of fear.
“So you know what? You can take your filthy boxes, and your moon-destined sorting machine, and your pretentious aww-dut-ing clip board and shove them right down your muffin hole!”
“B-But—”
“NO!” Ditzy swiped an angry hoof at a pile of debris on a nearby table. “I QUIT! Take this as my RESIGNATION, you can of managerial hoof-polish!”
This elicited a whimper from the now nearly-crouching pony.
“You hear me? RE-SIG-NA-TION! OH, NEED ME TO SPELL IT OUT?! R-E-S-I-N-A-S-I-O-N!”
Ditzy turned on a hoof and made her way towards the exit, each step a crash against the ground or a kick of yet another pointless gadget of the multitude scattered on the floor.
She smashed the exit door open, knocking another workpony to the ground, scattering cardboard boxes full of wooden trinkets all over the dusty path outside. With a mighty leap, she launched into the sky and out of sight of the managerial colt, who was now scrambling to pick his jaw up off the floor.
[2011-07-13]