Like ants on my skin....

I don't know why, probably because I haven't had enough sleep this week, but everyone is driving me nuts lately. It's like having ants crawling on your skin.
People I've had to restrain myself from whacking this week:

-Last night when I was closing up at work I locked the front door of the office and turned off the lights, then a staff member comes out of her office in her coat heading for the door and then exclaims,
Staff member: Is the door locked... ALREADY?!?
I looked at the time - 5:29 - one minute to the end of the day. That extra twenty feet that she had to walk to the back door to leave must just have been to far to walk, too bad we don't have little golf carts to haul lazy staff around.

-The lady in shoppers who cut in front of me in line. Then made a stink about how they scanned her purchase and the price came up wrong on the computer. She insisted on having the thing free, announcing to the cashier while looking back to the line for support,
Lady: You should have a sticker on the cash register saying that if the item scans wrong it's free!
Me - You should get to the back of the line!

-This bitch at work, a woman who will heretofore be know as 'The Stickler' who missed her calling as the school teacher everyone hated, comes over to me to ask about a new mailbox for a new employee.
'The Stickler' - Did so and so tell you about setting up new mail boxes for new employees before she went on vacation?
Me - You mean physical mailboxes in the mail room?
'The Stickler' - Yes (said in the 'yes of course you idiot' tone)
Me - Not specifically (you idiot)
'The Stickler' - Oh (really disappointed)
Now, the mailboxes in our mailroom are those typical office mailboxes with adjustable slots and they are set up by department, to make a new mailbox for someone, all you have to do is figure out how to slide a shelf into place and spell the person's name properly with a label maker, this is not rocket science here. Did I need to be trained how to do this very obvious task, next she's going to ask me if anyone trained me on wiping my own ass! Just for kicks, I think I'll rearrange all the mailboxes to no particular order so no one can find their mail and when they ask me why I did it I'll claim that it was because I tried to add a mail slot without being trained.

- Phone rings at work:
Me: Blah blah blah (I actually said the name of the company,but after having made nasty comments about a few co-workers, it might not be smart to write it here), how can I help you?
Snippy lady: Yes, I'm not sure if I'm calling the right place but I've been looking for something for quite a while now to get for my neice who is 16 years old....
Me: Ok, I'll transfer you to gifts.
Snippy lady: Can I finish?
Me: Ah... Okaaay
Snippy lady: Blah blah blah. (I don't know what she said, because I didn't listen)
Me: Ok, I'll transfer you now.
Snippy lady: Thank you (said snippily)

- I open my email, to find a note to everyone from 'The Stickler', it's a job posting. I read the responsibilities listed for the new job, several of them are things that I am presently responsible for. Did anyone ask me if that was OK, or give me a heads up that they were taking part of my job away? Nope.

- Then there's the guy from accounting who asked a temp we had in during the insane Christmas rush to send a package for him. I didn't realize that it was important or that Canadapost sucked as badly as it does so I sent it with the Xpresspost instead of Fedexing it since that pickup had already gone, now it may or may not be lost because the Canada post couriers aren't required to scan every package before delivery and the recipient, RevenueCanada (like the IRS), can't/won't tell us whether they got it or not. The guy from accounting has come to my desk every day this week to ask about it. He's a little pipsqueak, has bad teeth and terrible nose hair and is pushy but not in an aggresive way, rather in a needling kind of way, the way people often get if they don't have the physical size to back up outright aggressiveness. He reminds me of mossy-toothed Adam, from residence, who dated Sarah M. and wore white socks with black shoes and black jeans. This guy insults you while laughing.
Pipsqueak: Ha ha, well I just don't understand why you can't tell me where it is, ha ha...
Me:...(glaring)
Pipsqueak: Ha ha, is it your incompetance or someone else's? Ha ha....
Me: (holding up a Fed Ex waybill) See this number? This is called a tracking number, next time you need send something, ask for the tracking number at the time you give your package to me and we'll never have to do this again.
Pipsqueak: Oh.

It's a good thing that I don't own a can of pepperspray this week, because it would make me feel so much better to give some of these people a little spritz... right in the kisser!