Sometimes, I must admit, it may appear as though I have dissolved into the general background of bland office furniture. I, like the surroundings, am mostly composed of tan, beige, and inoffensive earth tones. Such an optical illusion, however, should perhaps be dispelled at the sound of my voice: “Hello, how may I help you?” Does the stark, irrefutable fact that it speaks fail to differentiate the thing behind the computer screen, from the leafy thing inside the plastic vase? Does an object’s professed desire to put itself at the service of another – does this count for anything at all?
Not always, I have gathered.
(Also, take those fucking earbuds out of your ears. That’s just plain rude.)
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