Killing Ms. Figman

There is one guest at my job, Ms. Figman, who I would love to kill.

As I entered my shift for sunday night, Cynthia told me guests were complaining about Ms. Figman. They were complaining that she was being loud, they were complaining that she was smoking in the room, and they were complaining that she was being inconsiderate. As for what she was smoking, it wasn't cigarettes and it wasn't weed, according to the guests. Cynthia thought it might have been crack, but I had no evidence for or against anything other than heresay, so I didn't say anything.

Until about 6 a.m. Working the night shift sucks, and after a long shift, I would like nothing more than to go home and go to sleep. I don't need to make conversations with fucking crazy people. She came by to tell me the computer she was on wasn't working. She told me she swiped her credit card, and they cut off her internet. I told her she would not be charged for the time she didn't use. She then told me she put a dollar into the computer. I told her the minimum was 2 dollars and she started arguing with me! I have been working here for months, and the computers have ALWAYS been 2 dollars for 20 minutes, and now she was going to try to contradict me with her doublespeak?

But it gets worse. She asked if she could get a refund. I said no. I give refunds when the computers malfunction, not when someone doesn't know how to use them. I wanted to add the word dumbass. But the story gets better...

She then asked what was wrong with me. She said most people working here were normal, and asked if I was imitating someone.

NO I AM NOT FUCKING IMiTATING ANYONE! SOMEONE IS IRRITATING ME, and if she keeps on...

If she keeps on...