Elijah Forrester (ferralsmile) wrote in genome_project, @ 2010-03-09 18:23:00 |
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Current mood: | blah |
Who: Ethan Walker.
What: Bemoaning his lot in life.
Where: At work, more precisely, his desk.
When: Mid-afternoon.
Rating: PG
You know, I always thought I’d have this wonderful career of fame and fortune, but the funny thing about dreaming about stuff is that half the time it isn’t real. All it takes is one big giant slap in the face with reality for you to wake up and smell the machine manufactured coffee.
Of all the places and of all the jobs this job, being stuck behind a desk and a headset on, was the last one I thought I’d have. Never imagined I’d spend the day repeating myself over and over, answering stupid questions, taking lunch in a designated time slot and wearing a tie.
It’s hell on Earth and I hate it.
“No,” I repeat for the sixth time in the same conversation. “We don’t offer that service, sir.” Slight pause as the ape on the other end of the line takes that in and it’s awful how I’m just waiting for the obvious question, the same question they always ask. My response is always the same, “that would be illegal,” because it never changes and I can’t speak my mind, even though every cell in my body is screaming to do just that.
There are bills to pay, food to buy and a cat to feed.
“If you continue to use that tone, sir, I will have to terminate this call.” It’s the standard protocol, especially for the angrier customers who don’t seem to grasp that shouting at the person on the other end of the line isn’t going to get them anywhere. But, apparently? The man on this phone call can’t quite wrap his tiny little brain around the concept. Oh well, sucks to be him.
One flick of my pinky finger and the call is terminated and it’s right onto the next one. God, how I ended up in this job is totally beyond me. I’m supposed to be somewhere else, doing something better, but apparently “God” hates me so here I am, taking calls and selling stuff I don’t really believe in.
Bring on the end of the day already.