of yada yada yada.

The seating plan, controlled (like all things in the call centre) by a “dispassionate” machine which by all accounts has developed not only sentience but a bizarre and malicious vendetta against me, had me sitting in a totally unpopulated area, isolated, as some kind of punishment for actually turning up and doing my job. As a result, I read Cracked articles all day, which, to be honest, is kind of better than most of the human interaction the aforementioned call centre affords me.

Got home at 10pm, ate a burger, suppressed tears, watched the new Decemberists video which is based on a very specific scene from Infinite Jest, a book which lies in wait on my bedside cabinet, right now, over there, goodnight.