Some kid was driving around the parking lot on his quad and making a gigantic racket. In this weather, I am more or less required to have my office window open, especially as I was in a meeting and already subjecting the client to enough of my B.O. as it was. So I went over to the window and yelled at the kid. Yes, apparently my pissed-off voice from a third floor (US: 4th floor) window is louder than an unmuffled two stroke engine directly underneath you. The kid and his friend made a runner for it, and I felt awful. Oh, how I lack the punk rock.
What's next? Rocking chairs and prostate exams?
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