Reginald "Reggie" Lincoln was trapped in his tiny, beige cubicle, sitting hunched over his Call List. He stared at the thin lines of numbers leading down, down, down to the very bottom of the page. Three columns, twenty-three rows of eleven digit phone numbers. Little black magick sigils that connected him to irritated homeowners all across the gods forsaken plane. He sighed as he poked the numbers of his next call into the Dialer. He felt his cellphone vibrate in his pocket. Reggie glanced around, making sure the floor manager wasn't near by before he inconspicuously removed his phone from his pocket. The ringing in his ear gave way to a familiar recorded message of his caller being unavailable. He jabbed the end button on his Dialer with his right hand as he double tapped the screen of his cellphone with his left. The screen became alight with his favorite picture of his ex-girlfriend, Rochelle. There were three notifications from various games he played.
Reggie noticed the floor manager looking his way and quickly went about dialing another number into his hateful, little machine. He was once again answered be another hateful, little machine. The too familiar greeting letting him know his caller could not be reached faded into a series a three quick beeps and he was free to leave his scripted spiel without being rudely interrupted by an uninterested customer. Reggie let the call end on his laptop screen and signed out of his Work Profile on the Company Network. He cited: Lunch; threw his sweaty headset onto his gum wrapper littered desk and swiveled out of his chair. As he headed for the break room, he whistled a tuneless jingle happy to be free for h is Lunch Hour. Though he was due back to the Dialer in 28 minutes.