Sitting in my little cubicle I hear the refreshing banter of atmospheric noise return as the frustration of the last call slowly fades from memory. "Fuck that last guy, his internet would be fine if he would just, y'know, pay his bills. I can't wait to get out of here." Bleep. The ominous sound of another disgruntled customer who obviously doesn't understand the concept of "paying for service" or who thinks that they are calling the magical internet factory in the sky, calling through to me to fix his shit and make him feel all gushy inside is making gravity feel exceptionally weighty today. The headset which hard-wires his whiny voice directly into my brain isn't much of an incentive to work my mouth muscles into a smile either. "Yeah, g'day, I called in yestahday to
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