So imagine yourself in a small, airtight room, face to face with a public attorney questioning you about your work ethic.
Imagine, for a moment, you've just drove an hour and half to sit in a court room on behalf of a developmentally disabled youth and his family (and this would be your fourth visit to said court room) - furthermore, imagine that for the past four and one half months you've been banging your head against a wall (figuratively) to secure services for this youth, but because of budget cuts and bureaucracy in general, you're getting no where. Now imagine how your words have fallen on deaf ears of said bureaucracy for the past four and one half months.
How does one quell the urge to reach across the table, and grab the self important, smirking fuck face questioning you? What stops you from throttling the jack ass in the ill fitting suit?
And when you finally get a word in, and show this public attorney, in plain black and white by way of reams of documentation, the work and time you've invested, he waves his hand at you as if to say, "Pish, posh, that's nothing"...how do you not control the urge to lift this bastard over your head and throw him across the room.
That's what I've been asking myself all night.