Instead of what I was trying to write... hostility is quicker.
He sat his weight down in the plastic and metal chair in front of the computer terminal, the only one with speakers, to begin his usual slacking. He opened Firefox and Microsoft Word and set to writing. The door buzzer goes off. He gets up and tends to the customer’s need. He sits back down. The second the contented sigh leaves his lips as comfort sets in, the door buzzer goes off again. He rises with discontentment clearly etched on his face and handles this matter. This happens again and again; he barely has enough time to write fucking drabbles.
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