Fridge Rage

If I could ever be reincarnated as anything I would like to be reincarnated as a Coca-Cola refrigerator repairman. I don't know what they do for a living. Judging by their job title you would expect these guys to repair the occasional Coke fridge. This is not the case. My guess is that they spend most of their time at a golf course sharing jokes with their illiterate mates about condenser fan motors. The only annoying thing about their job would be the incessant ringing of their phones by the same people constantly complaining about the same old problems, which really puts them off a crucial putt that would be needed to get a Birdie for the hole. Grudgingly these slobs would answer their mobiles, hear three-day old URGENT REQUEST messages, pack away their clubs and turn up to the "emergency".

Upon arriving to the source of distress they would be descended upon by hysterical folk who would wail about how important it is that they fix the fridge NOW and why weren't they here days ago? The fridge repair guy will generally would take this wrathful tirade with an aplomb born of apathy, the knowledge that he is dealing with cretins who have no idea how to repair a simple fridge and with ears so clogged with wax that the customer's whining sounds like the muffled cries of hikers buried under meters of rubble.

"Calm down mate," he'll growl. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"
"The first time I called you guys it was because the fridge was freezing the contents within, like a scene from The Day After Tomorrow but less boring. After a four day wait a repairman came over, hit it a few times with a spanner, and left before we could ask him what he'd done. The very next day the fridge stopped working at completely. We placed another call. Three days later another refrigerator repairman came, adjusted things, and left. The fridge is now a block of ice once again. I feel like Goldilocks here; 'This is too cold. This is too warm'."
"No need to be snide about it. Look. I'm going to have a little looksee at the compressor so do me a favour and run along for now. Don't bother me-"

I turn to leave and hear him end the sentence with "-ya cocksucker." The repairman then turns to the fridge not to repair it so much as to turn his back to me. The beauty of this manouver is that he gets to a) look like he's working, b) show his hairy backside to the world at large and c) to not have to listen to the wailing of the likes of me who tend to carry on a bit, waving arms and stomping feet like an extra in a Chinese riot scene.