A man on the, with the receiver up to his forehead, peering off into the middle distance.

Things I Have Shouted On The Phone With Customer Service

On August 9th, 2016 in SHOUTING

THIS MUSIC IS EAR TRASH SCRAPED FROM THE BOTTOM OF A STUDIO GARBAGE CAN.

*VIOLENTLY HANGS UP TO AVOID TALKING TO SAME REPRESENTATIVE FOR THIRD TIME*

DO NOT CLOSE MY ACCOUNT. I JUST. LISTEN TO ME. I JUST WANT TO UPDATE THE EMAIL.

THIS MUSIC IS ACTUALLY PRETTY SOLID FOR WHAT IT IS.

I AM NOT GOING TO FAX YOU ANYTHING.

YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME.

SAYING A FAX IS MORE LEGITIMATE THAN A SCAN IS LIKE SAYING A BIKE IS MORE OF A VEHICLE THEN A CAR. THEY ARE BOTH VEHICLES BUT ALSO ONE IS CLEARLY BETTER AT MOVING THINGS.

NO THE FAX IS NOT THE CAR.

THIS MUSIC IS THE ZENITH OF MUSIC AND NO ONE SHALL SURPASS THE COMPOSER IN SKILL.

CAN I DO THIS OR NOT? DO NOT WALK AWAY FROM THIS PHONE TO ASK SOMEONE.

SEND ME ONLY EMAILS RELATED TO MY ACCOUNT. DO NOT SEND ME PROMOS. DO NOT SEND ME SNAIL MAIL. DO NOT CALL ME. DO NOT TEXT ME. DO NOT SEND CARRIER PIGEONS TO DROP ROCKS WITH MESSAGES TIED TO THEM. NO I WILL NOT SCAN THE HORIZON FOR SEMAPHORE.

THERE IS ONLY THE SONG NOW. THERE HAS ONLY EVER BEEN THE SONG. WE KNOW THE TRUTH OF THE UNIVERSE’S INFINITY. IT IS UNDENDING, FOR THE SONG IS IS UNENDING.

THAT’S IT? YOU DID IT? FINALLY. THANK YO. THAK YOU SO MUCH. I WANT TO SCOOP YOU UP INTO A GENTLE HUG AND JUST WHISPER ALL MY SERVICE NEEDS INTO YOUR EAR.

NO YOU CANNOT SEND ME A FAX RECEIPT.

*SCREAMS WHILE TURNING INTO A PILLAR OF SALT AND IS CARRIED OFF BY THE WIND*