You are the lady who answers the phone at an Orange County plumbing and heating company. In November, you told us a part for our heater that one of your technicians broke was on the way. You repeated that line when we called back a week later, so we asked for the tracking number. You said you could not tell us. We asked for your supervisor. You took our number and said he'd call back. That didn't happen; in fact, it never happened all the weeks we called back to complain, with you all the while saying the part was on the way, on the delivery truck, almost in Orange County, etc., etc. Of course, because you are a rotten lying bitch, there never was a part. After days and weeks and months of us constantly calling to harass you, your "master technician" finally came out and corrected the problem—and knew nothing of a missing part. You, Ms. Fulla Shit, are just lucky it has been a mild winter. Had it been colder, there was a red-hot poker from my fireplace waiting to take up residence in your diseased bunghole.
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