Lost the battle, skirted the email war...?

I don't know. My name, my email address, all has been blacklisted and banned from the world of email-lur communication.

No one, luckily, has sued us. But I have had to set up new accounts, throw buckets of water, and kisses and love onto people who have the idiocy to think I would be that blatantly stupid on PURPOSE, and generally tried to calm my boss down - which didn't work since she ended up sending me home with the little white pills.

I'm still annoyed. The company that held my reputation in its hands didn't bat an eyelid at my requests for information, assistance, feedback. They insisted that it was our fault that all of this had happened, and then promptly ignored us.
Two weeks later, and all of their clients have been informed of the latest Email Upgrade that has been deemed necessary by the higher echelons of Company I-didn't-do-it-and-you-can't-prove-it. Now it's become the most important thing on their agenda. Now that servers across the country fell over, that business was lost in bulks of days rather than hours, that information was deleted in a helter-skelter frenzy of belated and tardy panic.

I wish I knew what was written about us in their files, what comments have been logged against our names. I wish I knew how I could go about ruining their company again. I wish, I wish, all this impotent anger. I bluster along, me, the five-foot email estranger.

Argh.

Bad poetry to match my bad mood. What better way to end off this blog, than to say, once again, how I wish it hadn't been my name, or my number, pasted at the end of that little email slander, rather, in a fit of foresight, as suggested by a man of over-weight, attached the names and numbers of the company that assisted in this blunder by a complete lack of motivation to remove their behinds from their station situated by the mountain in the land of rainbow writers.

Could it get worse.... of course.
See the next blistering episode!