One lifetime in the queue and I am invited upstairs to see the Manager.
Thank you for waiting. How may We be of service?
The answer to all Mysteries before me and all I can come up with is to ask for a refund.
I'm afraid this may be a factory fault; We'll have to take it up with Our Supplier…
...Who informs Us that They have contacted the Manufacturer,
Who wishes for you to describe the fault so that They may decide
whether to repair or replace. What did you say the problem was?
Unable to describe how I am supposed to function
I clumsily fabricate the best of all possible worlds
and in finding myself become the Manufacturer
so witness with relief how bureaucracy invents itself just to cope with the influx of complaints, for what is Heaven if not the indefinite deferral of responsibility?
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