Thank you for calling Verizon. Por el servicio en español, go back to Mexico or Spain or Señora Halberstein's ninth-grade Spanish class that you probably failed. Your call is totally unimportant to us, and we do not look forward to serving you. We do not thank you for patiently waiting for an agent to assist you, and we are unlikely to answer your call in the order in which it was received. We are experiencing extremely normal call volume, but we feel no urgency to resolve whatever first-world inconvenience made you decide to bother us.

Have you tried just turning your phone off and back on again? That usually seems to work for most dumb problems like yours, but you could also smash your phone good and hard against your face. We honestly wouldn't care, and the rectangular imprint it left might even make you look prettier.

Just to be clear about our lack of enthusiasm for your call, here are five things we'd rather be doing than assisting you: giving our moody chinchilla a dust bath, re-bristling our old toothbrushes, volunteering at a food pantry, searching through a bag of coins for some old wheat pennies, answering your ex-girlfriend's call ahead of yours, and clipping our moody chinchilla's nails. Oh, you noticed we actually listed six things? Nice work, Einstein, you got us. Might even be seven things if you gave us long enough to think about it.

What's that, you ask? Why do we not look forward to serving you? Simple. We hate you, you talking anus. Yes, we're talking about you, personally and in highly specific ways. We hate your weird mole with three hairs growing out of it on your left arm. We hate your really long denim shirt with two breast pockets that you've worn untucked with jeans all day. We hate your paralyzing fear of rejection that keeps you from asking out that girl at work with the nice tush. She's too good for you anyway and would probably just laugh at your dumb mole and your dumb shirt and your dumb face that still looks like you smashed your phone into it good and hard.

We hate you so much that if we ever saw your house, we would throw a lot of rocks at it like that scene in Forrest Gump where Jenny goes back to her abusive dad's old house, and then a young Tom Hanks would appear and tell us sagely, “Sometimes I guess there just aren't enough rocks.”

We also hate your mother and wish she were in a crappy nursing home that serves soupy Farina for breakfast most days. We hate your father, but we know he walked out when you were a baby because he hated you too. We hate your sister and brother and did unmentionable things with both of them at the same time. We hated your grandmother and rejoiced at her funeral.

Your estimated hold time is between 48 and 72 hours, or whenever we're done binge-watching every episode of every iteration of the Real Housewives franchise. If you want, you could enter your phone number to receive a call back, but we don't have a pen and paper handy so we'd probably forget it. While you wait, we'll be playing some instrumental versions of Neil Diamond favorites for you to listen to. Bet you've never heard Sweet Caroline performed by the Millard Fillmore Middle School recorder quintet.

Also, your puppy ran away since you've been waiting for us to assist you momentarily. You should probably go look for him so he doesn't get hit by a car, which would actually be fine with us.


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