This was delightful (from the New Yorker, June 23 issue).
People express anger in two different ways. There’s “cold” anger, in which words may be overarticulated but spoken softly, and “hot” anger, in which voices are louder and pitched higher. At first the caller’s anger was cold:
AGENT: OK, sir. I’m gonna go ahead and explain this… OK, so on the information that you put this last time it was incorrect, so I apologize that you put it incorrectly on the site.
CALLER: OK, we got past that, bro. So tell me something I don’t know…
AGENT: Let’s see…uh…um
CALLER: Dude, I don’t care what company it is. It’s your company using that company, so you guys charge it. So you guys should be waiving that shit-over-the-phone shit, pay by phone.
AGENT: Buy why don’t you talk to someone else, sir. One moment.
By now, the caller’s anger was hot. He was put on hold, but B.B.N. was still listening.
CALLER: Motherfucker, I swear. You fucking pussy, you probably don’t even have me on hold, you little fucked-up dick. You’re gonna wait a long time, bro.
You little bitch, I’ll fucking find out who you are, you little fucking ho.
After thirty seconds, we could hear bubbling noises–a bong, Alwan thought–and then coughing. Not long afterward, the caller hung up.