Awaiting the arrival of the artist, Anna Francis, I idled in the lounge of the North Stafford Hotel. Just within earshot, I recognised an accent - a friendly accent - that recalled home.
Female, 50: What we’re working towards is a situation in which we’re not creating clones, but we are working with the same technique to get the information as quickly as possible, then we end the call.
Female, 35: Yeah. (pause). There’s been situations in which I’ve had to deal with all kinds of profanities and I’ve, well, I’ve not known what to do.
Female, 50: We have guidelines about dealing with that. There is no way in which you should have to listen to profanities – get the information, end the call.
Though I didn't know the exact nature of their business, it didn't really seem to matter. With hardened phrases, the accent had lost its appeal.
Anna walked in, and so I stopped staring daggers at the mangler of the cherished lilt.