And disgruntled is his name-o.

People at work are getting to me. Last time I was there an old woman vigourously gave me the finger. I guess she had needed one more number to win a considerable amount of money, but someone else's number was called first. I confirmed the first winner, asked if there were any others, and she waved me down.

"Any others? Ok, over there in the back? Oh, no that's just someone giving me the finger. Incidently, giving me the finger is not the way to win. If it were there would be a lot more winners out there."

Afterwards she came up to me and told me that she didn't appreciate me singling her out. I told her that I didn't appreciate her giving me the finger. I thought that seemed fair. People sometimes act like I choose the numbers that come up, rather than simply announcing what fate has determined (not that I believe in fate). The point is that I've got no control over what happens. If I did, I would demand a much higher chair, a black cape and mantle, and a machine which shot lightening bolts when I pushed a button. As such, I am Mercury. I am Hermes. Don't shoot the messenger.

Tonight a man kept calling bingo when he hadn't won, simply because he couldn't keep up and was falling behind. I was already way behind schedule because of some people who didn't understand how the game worked, so maybe it was me going a bit too fast. The fact is that no one else was having trouble keeping up, and this was slowing things down further. Eventually I said "To the gentleman who keeps calling false alarms, if you would like me to slow down, tell a runner and they will pass on the message. Please stop disrupting the game, as we are already behind schedule and this is not helping things. Thank you."

I got a bit of trouble for that. Apparently there is a "Customer is always right" policy at the hall, which if you've read the archives, know I've got a problem with. Bottom line: I was more than polite considering the circumstances. I could have told him to stop fucking around, which I would have liked.

Well, tonight also marks the first time I've taken a substance to help me stay awake. That's right; I, your intrepid narrator, took coffee. It did the trick, that's for sure, but I felt so dirty. It was like when Merry and Pippen are forced to drink the orc brew. I need me some Ent-draught. Now I'm worried that I'll just turn to "C" whenever I'm tired and want to stay up. I don't want to turn into Jessie "I'm so excited" Spano here.