<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cd/73/a7/cd73a732bf24b4f2f5d76d1e8eff7c64.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Mariska Moon<br/><strong>Age:</strong>26<br/><strong>Sexual Identity:</strong>Lesbiflexiaggressive<br/><strong>Position:</strong><del>scissor</del>Operator<br/><br/><em>"ThankyouforcalingEvilCorpwedevalueallofourcustomerspleaseholllld-"</em>Mariska pressed the button with a firm click. Her times were getting better, at least for the scripted intro. She always seemed to be behind on the rest, but that was in part because she got every screwloose, wackjob, and nutter routed to her phone. That was to say, anyone who had ever done business with Evil Corp. So, in preparation for the shitstorm she knew she would be facing...she made them wait.<br/><br/>For a long count of thirteen, while she went about composing her newest Twilight fanfic in her head. She was already up to page five hundred and twenty-three, and Edward had just been jumped by a gang of werewolves, who were forcefully teaching him what 'Ow!  Wrong hole!' meant. The arrogant prick. They were both dumb cunts, Bella and him, but at least she was cute. Cute, but dumb A.F.- of all the guys to choose from, if she had to choose a guy at all, you know, to break a real bad dry spell, or something, to fall for<strong> that</strong>...?<br/><br/><em>Click.</em>"Thank you for holding." She didn't rush, now. In fact, she pitched her voice lower than her usual alto, and spoke slowly. If she didn't, sure as shit she'd get some old biddy who'd forgotten to change the battery in her hearing aid. "How can I help you?"  She listened for a few seconds, staring at her ebon-glossed nails, then stifled a snort of laughter. "Well, that certainly isn't usual behavior. One moment while I refer to the correct manual...here we are. Can you give me the model number of the cat, please, sir?" Dumb fuck. Evil Corp didn't<em>sell</em>cats. Not intact, anyway. Some of their award-winning snack food was suspect, and some of the stuffed toys were rumored to have begun their unlife as the animals they resembled...but it was a Catch-22. She couldn't tell the guy he had the wrong number without getting in trouble, so instead she'd get in trouble for being on a call for too long answering questions about a product they didn't handle.  Whatever. It was a job.<br/><br/>"Oh, I see." Eyeroll, expressive, Mk. 23. "So it's the Brimstone Outdoor Grill you're having a problem with, not your feline companion. So sorry. I thought...no...yes...no, sir. I'm afraid the whole intention of a grill of that sort is to set things on fire. It's hot, you know. So it's not a product fault." More natter rattled against her ear, while she snuck a look across the aisle to the next cubicle, to see if Lia was in today. Lia wore very short skirts, and crossed her very long legs a whole lot. "No, sir, I'm very sorry for your loss, but Evil Corp can't be held responsible for your cat jumping up on your Brimstone while it was unatten...you what?"<br/><br/>What the ACTUAL- "He looked cold. So you put him on...no, sir. That violates the terms of use of your Brimstone grill, so it is not a warranty issue. Pretty sure you've fucked the warranty on the cat, though.<em>ThankyouforcallingEvilCorpwedepreciateyourbusinessandhaveaniceday</em>FUCK you, jackass." She'd hung up before the last bit. She was pretty sure. Not that she really cared. Annnnd...the timer said she was .07 seconds over.<br/><br/>Ugh. Edward was going to be walking funny for a month after<strong>that </strong>call.