For a group of people who claim to be all about customer satisfaction, these assholes really know how to piss me off. I took this job as a favor to my buddy, Matt, and I’m definitely regretting it. Matt knows his customer support team is struggling but I don’t think he has any idea how bad it is.

“I hear what you’re saying, but users don’t interact with the web like that anymore. You can’t just pop a button on a page and expect people to buy your products. You have to move them through the sales funnel so they come to that conclusion on their own.” Chris Murdoch, the idiot who has been assigned to provide content to me waves off my concerns as if I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.

“With all due respect, I think I know our customers a little bit better than you do. If you can just list the most important products here.” He points to the left side of the projection screen where I’ve got a mockup of my proposed website displayed. “And then, list out some of the features and benefits over here, I think we’ll be good.”

I clench my teeth, trying not to groan out loud. It’s not like we haven’t been through this a hundred times. What he’s asking for is user interface 1999. It’s dated and ugly. Not to mention that decades of science have proven that people shop in different ways now. I refuse to put my name on something that I know is not going to be successful.

“Okay, let’s take a step back. Can you tell me some of the competitor sites that you’ve seen that work in the way you’re describing?” Hopefully this will shut him up because nobody does this.

He looks at me curiously, like my words don’t make sense to him. “Are you suggesting we copy what other people are doing?”

I shrug. “Not copy, but we should benchmark your competition to make sure that if a customer who is familiar with your competitor visits your site, they will understand how to use it. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel if something is working well for other companies in your industry.

“Oh, um, no, I haven’t done that.”

Of course he hasn’t. Why would he? “No problem. That’s what you hired me for.” This guy doesn’t seem to realize there’s a reason his company is paying me six figures to complete this project for him. It’s because I know what the hell I’m doing and he doesn’t. “Let me show you what I found during my research.”

I pull up the competitive analysis I did as soon as I accepted the project. Then I spend the next thirty minutes explaining to him why the things he’s proposing are wrong and why my proposal is exactly in line with what his target audience will be expecting.

It takes some time, but he finally begins to budge.

“Okay, fine.” Murdoch sighs in defeat. “You’re the expert, so I’ll let you lay out the page the way you think is best.”

“Thank you.” I’d like to celebrate this victory, but I know it’ll be short-lived. Next time I see him, I’m very sure we’ll have the same damn conversation because this is not the first time we’ve had it. But at least I can get the hell out of here for the night. “I’ll begin working on it immediately, and you should have something to review when we meet again in two weeks.”

“Thanks, Jude. You’re doing a great job.”

I want to laugh in his face because either that’s a complete lie or he has a weird way of showing his appreciation. But I don’t do either, letting it go for the sake of keeping the peace.

“All right then. I’ll talk to you later.”

I love owning my own business, and web design with a UX focus has been lucrative, but it’s dealing with these kind of clients that make me want to become a barista at Starbucks.

I barely get my truck in the garage before my phone starts buzzing. Of course, it’s Gunnar, bugging me to go out. Not wanting to hear him whine to me about being a homebody, I text him back. I’m tired.

Suck it up, buttercup. You haven’t gotten laid in months. You’re not staying home on your birthday.

Fuck, is it my birthday? I glance at the date on my watch and cringe. Yeah, I guess it is. How about a rain check? Maybe sushi tomorrow night?

Sushi tomorrow sounds great. But we’re hitting O-Ring tonight. No excuses.

Shit. When Gunnar gets like this, he’s like a dog with a bone. He won’t back off until I agree. Fine. Meet there at eight?

Yeah. And if you’re not there by 8:15, I’m coming to pick your ass up.

I wish he were bluffing, but I know he’s not. I’ll be there, but I won’t be in a good mood.

Perfect. There are always plenty of omega subs who get off on being with pissy alphas.

Gross. No thanks. I know exactly the type Gunnar is talking about and they’ve never been my thing. I’m not into the weak omegas who act all delicate and fragile, hoping to find an aggressive alpha who will own them. That’s not to say I don’t like being possessive of my omegas when I’m with one, but the fragile ones just don’t do it for me.

I like a man who knows what he wants and is willing to ask for it, demand it.

* * *

As soon as I see the line outside the club, I reconsider whether not I want to actually go in. There are always five times as many willing omegas as there are alphas at O-Ring. That’s why I usually avoid the place, but it’s the same reason Gunnar loves it here. There is absolutely zero chance of going home alone. Or at least not without having knotted at least one or two begging holes. And sadly, that’s all most of these guys are.

Sometimes a few quality omegas will find their way in, but it’s been my experience that most of the guys here just want to be used as a knot hole to get through a heat or feed their addiction. And there are plenty of addicted omegas.