These are diary entries.
tech are hard - 2:42 p.m. 08.11.2005
     Arrrrg. I hate me.
     I got this great message on my voice mail today, while I was at work. This guy just starts screaming at me. Screaming at me for leaving him too many voice mails. Voicemails about billing him for a party that he neither threw nor attended nor had any relationship with. (See the mistake yet? Clue: I am not a party planner.)

     The message goes on (and on) to complain that I am such an asshole. I've been calling the wrong number over and over, trying to bill him instead of the right person. I should get my fucking facts and number right and I should learn how phones work. (See the irony yet? Clue: Phones are apparently justifiably hard to use.)

     Being on my lunch break, I had nothing to write on. As he says his number to call back, I jot it into my phone. While the message is playing. Only, the first digit of his number is the one that deletes voice mails...
     Please, Mr Anonymous. Call me back and brighten my day.

     I really planned to call you back. I just needed some time to plan...
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