Go to your shitty call centre job

You've tested this new power on campus, a place where you're pretty free to wander and to talk to whomever you wish. You've found an endless stream of attractive college girls to mess with. It's been a good place for some preliminary tests. Now that you know how to use, and how to not use your power, you decide it's time to really see what you can do. Having an adventure on campus is easy, but can your power be used to make your horrible job into a pervert's playground too? You're up to the challenge, so you walk to the call centre, where they pay you minimum wage, but only for fifty-six minutes of each hour.

As you walk up the stone path to the flat, ugly, grey building, you see a familiar face smoking a cigarette outside. It's Lena, a cute sophomore with a bad attitude and bad cough. "Sup dude?" she says, leaning against the ugly wall. Her frumpy tee hides her curves, though her torn up jeans are always tight. Her hair looks nice, big curls bobbing above her shoulders.

"Hey, just another day at my dream job!" you tell her, anxious to get to the phones for the first time ever.

"Hah! right?" She coughs a little, takes a big drag off the cig, and says, "you know I only smoke cuz of this damn job."

"Yeah? How do you mean? Eight minute breaks are mandatory every two hours."

"It's not that I need an excuse to take a break. As if a break could soothe the aches and pains of the call centre. No, I actually just need the **** to get through a shift!" She puffs once and then drags deeply.

"Oh yeah, I got you. Would you quit, if you could?"

"Ugh, yes, but it's so hard. I've actually quit twice."

"I guess it's hard to do, huh? Well, would you rather quit cold turkey and just have it work, and never want a cigarette again, or have to go through all the trouble of weening day by day, and the gum or the patch and everything, but really know you were in control of your life and your health and stuff?"

'And stuff' sounded extra-casual and inconspicuous until you said.

"Hah! Well I'd _rather _do the cold turkey one, but there's no way it..." Then Lena stops in the middle of answering your question, thinks about it for a second, and tosses the butt on the ground and grinds it out. "Wait, that can't be possible, but it just happened. I just quit."

"I dunno," you shrug innocently as you lie, "but addictions are weird. At times like this, you gotta ask yourself, would you rather be addicted to cigarettes for the rest of your life or move on and discover some new, interesting, addictions like any number of the various common sexual addictions out there?"

You push the door open, and head to your desk, leaving Lena baffled in the doorway.

Anxious to get started, you make your way to the centre of the large room of tables, screens, and phones. You grab the nearest binder, and find the next person to call.

Your job is a piece of shit waste of time in a piece of shit building for a piece of trash boss and all you do is call a bunch of people all day and bother them, like a piece of shit yourself. Still, you came here because of how your job works. You're a cold-calling survey monkey. You call numbers all day until you get one who talks to you, and then it's your job to just ask them a bunch of questions, generally about their opinions.

You dial the next number in the binder and look around at your fellow survey callers. As the phone rings, you recognize Lesley, Aida, Greer, and some new faces too, some so new as to even still be smiling. You see one poor newbie being shouted into a fidgety ball through her phone, obscenities flying through so loud you can hear them, no doubt for interrupting someone's bath or their daily stories.

Then there's a click on the line. "Hello?" says the voice on the other end of your call.