1. The asshole who really, really tried to cut in front of me in traffic today. Excuse me, dickhead, there's no way you didn't see that GIANT FUCKING FIRE TRUCK BLOCKING THREE LANES. It has its lights on, and your minivan sits up way higher than my car. Stop being a jerk. No, you can't get over. I don't care that you put your blinker on, I'm still not letting you in.
2. The girl who cut my hair. I understand that you probably have had women be all, "I want it really short!" and then panic and get mad at you. I also know you've probably had people be like, "Take it down to half an inch!" and not really understand how numbers work, or how they translate to the skull, or whatever, but I did not like having to repeat myself FIVE TIMES that yes, I wanted a mohawk; yes, I wanted it about three inches wide; no, four inches isn't the same thing, I want it thinner; yes, I am sure I want the sides a half-inch long; YES, I know how short that is. Also, for the record, if you don't know what products to use in a mohawk and you've already discussed with the client that she's had one, it's okay to ask. Next time, try a firm-hold paste, instead of a combination of way too fucking much styling cream and some hair gel on the part that won't stand up. That way, your customer won't have to redo the whole thing when she gets home.
3. Me. Didn't you learn anything from the last time you sent an email without checking which gmail account you were signed into?? It's pretty fucking unlikely that a professional in charge of hiring people is going to read an email from an email address dedicated to making things awkward. Cool, jackass. Real fucking cool.
What idiots would you write a quick note to?