As every week goes by, I hate working with customers more and more.

Last night, a couple walks in. They're looking for a place with a fireplace and a whirlpool tub. "And high speed internet. I have to take a test online," she says.

I show her the one thing with Internet. Nope. No fireplace.

So I let her borrow one of our computers so she can answer "two questions" on-line and show her husband everything with a fireplace and a whirlpool tub. There are two other couples in there looking for something with a fireplace and a whirlpool tub, as well.

So husband looks while wife spends thirty minutes answering her two, quick questions. I take care of the other two couples. Finally, husband picks Among the Crepe Myrtles. It's a neat house with a gas fireplace, cool champagne tubs and a hot tub on the deck!

They finally get out to the house, and husband is angry. There is also a hunting cabin out there and it's too close to the house. "If we wanted to be this close to people, we would have stayed in town!"

I apologize, telling him I didn't mention the hunting cabin because, frankly, I was looking for a fireplace and a whirlpool tub. In full customer service mode, I say, "I misunderstood your desire for solitude. Sorry. But I don't have anything that I would consider secluded. Look! Come on back into town, we'll find you something in town."

Little help here, people! If you want a cabin in the woods, no one within sight you have to tell me! I can't read your fucking mind. If you don't mention seclusion, I won't look for seclusion. And could you explain why someone would pay $60 a month for hi-speed Internet at a house that is all by itself. If I had a guesthouse, I would have hi-speed. I'd pass the $60 along to the guest. Instead of $125, I would charge $175. TANSTAAFL, baby!