The invisible woe, man.

Another dull Sunday at work. One of my co-workers instructs me to call the police. Apparently, a drunk man and a mentally disturbed woman (who comes in quite often and never shops, let alone says much) got into a heated argument. (Sidebar: It's incredible how people could tell the difference; a lot of people that come in seem to be drunk and/or mentally disturbed.) 

I make the call and wait...and wait...and wait. That was about two hours ago. I'm not sure if they ever got there. I couldn't help but wonder, 'What if someone had gotten fatally injured or killed and the cops were just sitting on their hands?' I maintain that if anyone else made the call, help would've arrived and the situation would've been handled in nothing flat. 

I get the sense that, well, people don't care about what I'm saying, even when it's slightly important. I really hope that things turn around for me and soon. I'd hate to have to go Sebastian Caine on people.