Ficly

Never the Hot One

Life as a roving computer technician can be difficult. Sure I work for a business, one of those famous computer companies with a four letter name. I won’t reveal who they are but their mascot is a bunch of cows. Good mascot if you ask me, because it represents the majority of their customer base- dumb cud chewers that could use more help than I can ever give them. They don’t pay me to think though. They also don’t pay me to get sexually harassed by their customers either.

I got this call to go service a lap top in a pretty posh area. Nice cars, well manicured lawns, three stories houses, the whole shebang. An elderly man answered the door, stinking of stale coffee and cigarettes. He showed me the laptop and then left me to my business. I appreciated that, it gave me a reprieve from asking the standard questions and listening to dumb answers.

When he showed up twenty minutes later, he was freshly showered and wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I decided it was time to leave.

His computer wasn’t broken either.

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