I figured out what can trigger me into a complete rage meltdown: bureaucratic pedantry.
Pedantry: the acts and behavior of a pedant, who is someone excessively concerned with formalism and precision.
Today I had to deal with the local utility, which is Knoxville Utility Board, aka "KUB." Without going into detail, they would not accept a bank error as the excuse for something, insisting that I obtain a letter from my bank "admitting that the mistake was on their side." I asked if they also wanted a letter from the bank's mother, saying that they have been a naughty, naughty boy, but they didn't seem to recognize the sarcasm. "No, ma'am, that other letter will be enough."
Here is my advice to "customer service" representatives of monopolies, such as local utility companies: just admit at the start of a conversation with a customer that you have no decision-making authority and all you can do is spout company policy - delivered in an agonizingly polite patronizing tone, as per your training. I mean, if you admit, "Look, I'm just a trained monkey in a giant call room and all I am going to do is ask for documentation that absolves anyone from making a decision and that I will just forward on to another department," then our 15-minute conversation will be cut short by, oooh, say, 14 minutes and 30 seconds.
But if you continue to state firmly, "Our policy is . . ." in a spinster teacher's voice as if I am a recalitrant truant, and only after 14 minutes and 30 seconds tell me that I have to produce some documentation, I promise you, in the next Reign of Terror . . . you will be first. I will sit and cackle while knitting furiously, as your heads roll and the crowds cheer. I speak fairly decent French, cul, and I will be crying, "Au mort!" as the blood runs through the streets and I will click mes sabots en dansent at your downfall.