Like didn't that operator on that so called 24-7 helpline seem sort of snarky to you? I got the distinct impression she was being sort of condescending when you called about hooking up the wireless printer. You want I should off her? She said her name was "Debbie," but I'm pretty sure she was in Sri Lanka or somewhere. Sure, she sounded American, but real Americans don't sound that American, if you know what I mean. No matter. Those calls are recorded for quality assurance.
All I got to do is hack into the corporate mainframe and I can find out who was manning the lines that day, what country they were in, and where they lived. I'll track Little Miss I T Support in whatever backwater she lives and poke her with a sharpened umbrella tip. That's it, one little poke. Only this umbrella tip would be coated in deadly curare, ha ha! Thirty seconds later, she'd be dead, and the police would never know what happened. I'd just melt into the crowd, an ordinary man with an umbrella.
On second thought, that's a bad idea. There's no point killing her until she realizes what she's done and feels sorry for it. I'd kidnap her and hold her in some smelly warehouse somewhere. Where there's water dripping from the ceiling for some reason, and big heavy chains hanging down. But it'd just be her and me. She'd be tied up in a chair, and I'd confront her with her own recording. "Is this your voice? I said, 'Is this your voice?' Answer me. That's better. You see how easy it is when you cooperate. Now what did you mean by starting every sentence with 'I need you to...' Like, 'I need you to try shutting down the computer...?'" I'll hold her for a couple of days until she cracks.
I know those Isotoner Gloves weren't exactly what you wanted for Christmas, and I know you're kind of disappointed, but I'd like you to consider this kind of an extra gift for me, like a coupon. A coupon for me to kill anyone on earth you like. Any time.
Merry Christmas.
