A sense of futility, a place to consign the grey masses you encounter who rob you of time, your life.
Could be an intense vocation, but given the chemicals exuded some light aromatic compounds and toiletries ought to be provided.
Would make a really entertaining Olympic medal, in a private sort of way.
Sorry that was wankish or is it wankerish?
Looking back on the amount of possible recorded telephone calls that some company maybe did to help improve their service, once my eardrums had been re-calibrated due to the volume of the piped phone music and after my third attempt to press the most suitable options availble, all of which were crap, sorry unsuitable, I decided that either I had been or they should be condemned to wankerdom.
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