Based on the 2007 movie despite my disliking that TMNT version of overly Angsty turtles. This will be a short chapter fic concept. TMNT are owned by people who made too much money on that garbage script.
Donatello finished writing his notes about the last caller and submitted them via his online connection hidden through a node in India. He opened up the note file he had begun keeping on his computer out of sheer aggravation and added a mark behind 'Too stupid to own a computer', 'Received it as a gift' and wrote an additional line of text to the file.
~Inserts installation disks upside-down (first incident on: 0#/##/07)- but, then his phone rang again before he could check if it was a Wednesday or a Tuesday. He had a theory that real idiots called on Thursdays near the end of shift but called earlier the following week if they had been 'trying to fix the issue themselves'.
Darting a look at the id of the number as the first ring died off, he tried not to snarl. The HR department again? His contract only said he had to be courteous not chipper! Steeling himself for another lecture on customer service, he affixed an exaggerated grin on his face.
"Thank you for calling IT support! How may I help you today," his voice nearly reaches lyrical and he sneaked a quiet sip of black coffee to make the tone palatable. "Arnold? You clear of calls, right now?," the male voice sounds strained. Donnie would have done anything just then to get his own social security number instead of using Casey's.
"Yeah, I've got a clear queue and… just call me Donnie. I-It's my nickname," Maybe they'd remember the request this time. Please?
"Oh-kay! Don, I know this is an odd request but you're almost off the clock right now and your records state that you know 'computer scavenging' and 'methods for extreme damage repair'. That actually true?" Donatello nearly droped his coffee in shock. He thought they hadn't even read that part of his application. Could he finally be offered more than this mind-numbing, dead end job? YES!
"I've got the wife of the guy who adjusts overtime payouts on the line here and…" That would be a crushing NO. "I promise you'll get an hour of overtime if you just take the call right now. Three hours if you help her fix what the little guy did!" Now, he had to be getting paranoid but this HR guy sounded a lot more invested in this situation than relaying the request of the wife of some guy.
"Glad to be of help. But, I'm not getting docked money or anything if I can't do it. Right?" Great, sound threatening to the HR guy. Donatello rolled his head around trying to get his neck to loosen up and was surprised by the numerous pops he triggered. The last one nearly drowned out the reassurances coming from the phone.
"We've just had this wow thing planned out for the last two weeks and he's the best raid leader in the company guild we have. The new update's next week and we don't want anyone getting nerfed and not being able to complete this with us later." Overwhelmed by the gamer parlance he had no clue how to translate, the turtle hung his head hoping to just loosen up the headache tightening the back of his skull. If he were really a genius, wouldn't he find a way out of this job or at least this phone call? This guy talks more than Mikey in a panic! Stopping an explanation of tauren (WTF?) hunter skill sets, he interrupted the HR guy gently.
"So, what do you need me to do? You want to transfer the call or…," At this rate, there was no way he was going to get to look at the modifications Raphael wanted him to approve on his precious bike. Hopefully, nothing on it exploded before he got to look it over or Raphael would find some way to make him feel guilty for it.
"No! No, you have to call her. Talitha had to clear the line to make sure she was available for calls in to update people on the raid. She'll make you famous on Facebook if you fix Frankie in time for the raid tomorrow." Frankie? Grateful he at least understood the concept of Facebook; he took down the phone number he was given and promised to make the call promptly. He actually broke the first pencil he used when he jabbed the paper too hard and had to change to a pen mid-number.
"Good, good. Ummm. Don't make fun of her accent, okay? Ever since the stupid nanny show, she's gotten all kinds of flack over it. I'll make sure you're taken off the call list for tonight." Looking down at the nondescript number he felt even less capable than a minute ago. Great, now I get to be talked down to by someone with a British accent!
"My brother sounds like he's from Brooklyn-not much leeway for teasing on my side of things." The HR guy started laughing and hung up. Looking at his mug of ice-cold coffee, Donnie decided he could take a bathroom break for aspirin and make himself some fresh coffee before dealing with funny-accented women with little guys who 'did'… something to computers named Frankie. He should have pushed for more overtime credit. This job could not be worth the frustration.
Despite the fine layer of aspirin in his system when he made the call, the voice that answered was piercing enough to push the headache into migraine territory. Talitha did NOT have a British accent and the little guy was a rather strong-lunged toddler. Don was quite certain he had been added to some deity's roster of "make life a living hell" for some arcane reason at that time. Too bad said deity couldn't have let him die first before adding '~HELL' to his experience note file.