Gemotions

The elevator doors opened, and Thomas stepped out, his stomach twisting. He hated this. He hated everything about this. The move from research and development to customer service was a punishment, plain and simple.

His new cubicle was a cramped, beige prison cell. He threw his things into the desk drawer, slamming it shut with a loud bang. He glared at the phone, its blinking light a constant taunt.

He took his first call. The customer was polite, asking for assistance with a product. Thomas answered with a curt tone. He gave deliberately vague answers, relishing the sound of the growing frustration in the customer's voice. He hung up abruptly, slamming the phone down, the action bringing him a fleeting moment of satisfaction.