[ WP ] You work at a call center giving customer service to the magic community .

The mirror rippled, distorting the image of a man holding up a sopping wet voodoo doll. His face was somewhere between distraught and disbelief. He mumbled thank you several more times even as the mirror faded to black. 
 
 `` I'm taking a piss,'' I said, walking away before I finished my sentence. I needed a break, and considering it was only the second hour of my shift, it was going to be the first among many. 
 
 `` Break 1 - registered,'' the monotone disembodied voice replied. I did my best to ignore it. Every break was registered against my productivity and deducted from my personal break allocation. 
 
 `` Hey Pete,'' a familiar voice said as I approached the putrid coffee machine in the break room. It was n't far from my cubicle space which was both a blessing and a curse. It did mean that my breaks took less time but also that I got to hear every being in the office chat about their shit for a life ( or unlife ). Just yesterday I had to hear about Molly's son, Remmy, and his first full moon - seems he managed to go full were-toddler and killed the neighbor's two cats. Seriously Molly - you ca n't move out of the Third Circle and into the suburbs of Chicago and be a shitty parent to your chihuahua-child. 
 
 `` Pete?'' the voice asked again. I break from my internal monologue enough to make eye contact with one of the few people in the office I can stand, Harriet. She's hunched over by the wide open fridge, scanning for food that I imagine she did n't bring but plans to eat anyway. 
 
 `` How are you doing today Harriet?'' I ask. 
 
 `` Just got off the mirror with a woman who was dissatisfied with her Frog-to-Prince,'' Harriet said as she grabbed a sandwich with the word COLBY clearly written on the aluminum, `` Apparently his princely package did n't make the size transformation she was looking for. I tried to explain to her that the Sloppy Seconds clause means she can only return him if she proves that he is n't at least third in line for some throne or earldom, but seems she is n't willing to go that length.'' The fridge door slams shut as Harriet emerges from its fluorescent glow, a silver package clutched in her slender claws. 
 
 Removing the aluminum from the sandwich, I can clearly see that colby was not a description of the cheese inside. 
 
 `` What about you?'' Harriet asks, her mouth half open when she asks, half chewed ham sandwich and sharp fangs displayed for all to see. 
 
 I think back to the man complaining about his voodoo dolls malfunctioning. I should have been harder on him - he claimed to have waited a full twenty-four hours after his ritual but when he threw the doll into the wash to clean it before the next victim, the magic had n't quite worn off and his previous client had drowned... in the middle of the street. He claimed that he wanted to maim, not murder, so I, being the softy that I am, wiped his proverbial slate clean and sent him on his way. 
 
 `` Just the usual,'' I reply. I pour myself a black coffee into a mug with some witty phrase on the front about being even more hard to work with before my coffee, `` I did get a call from that Jesus guy again.'' 
 
 `` Again!?'' she put the sandwich on the table, `` I am beginning to think he never really drank that reincarnation potion and that he is just calling to talk to you.'' 
 
 `` No!'' I blush. 
 
 `` Yesssss!'' she drolls, `` Face it. He calls all week and wo n't talk to anyone but you. I think he has a thing for you.'' 
 
 `` Even if you are right,'' I give in slightly to the fantasy, `` is'calling your work repeatedly to complain about a defunct reincarnation potion' really the kind of guy I want to go for?'' 
 
 `` Yea,'' she shrugs, `` you might be right.'' 
 
 `` I'm not so desperate as to go hunting after I client,'' I say. 
 
 Harriet wipes some mysterious processed condiment from her lip, `` At least he is trying though.'' 
 
 I roll my eyes, `` Yea well he is going to have to do better than that before he gets my number.'' I put my half-empty coffee in the sink where an animated brush and soap begin to scrub rather vigorously at the permanent coffee stains. 
 
 I say my goodbyes to Harriet who is now very invested in finishing the sandwich. Making my way back to my cubicle and the large gold gilded mirror that serves as the medium between me and the magically impaired, I ca n't help but think about what she is saying. 
 
 `` Break 1 ended,'' I say. The mirror sparks to life and displays a plethora of options for me; the option to connect to a customer being the most dominant choice. 
 
 `` Review previous customers,'' I say as I grab a pad of paper. I scan the day's clients looking for his name. Harriet's words tug at me as I scribble down the digits following his name. As I do so, the jaw-clenching sound of a rooster crowing notifies me that I am being connected to a client. 
 
'This is so wrong,' I think to myself as I stuff the scribbled paper into my pocket.
