"May I speak to Kim Paffenroth?" (struggles with last name, lots of other voices in the background at the boilerroom)
"You're not Kim Paffenroth. You're a guy. Put Kim on the phone."
"You're gonna call me at my home and argue with me about my mother fuckin' name? WTF? Fuck you."
I think I want Gary Busey to play me in the film version of my life. The whole scene would've gone so much more colorfully. He would've said the same lines, but then he would've hopped in a 1970 Gran Torino, driven 900 miles to the call center, arrived in a peyote and tequila haze, taken a dump in the company's foyer, screamed something in Spanish while snorting a line of coke off the floor next to his dump, then been Tazered, thrown up and passed out.