Daemon of Information: The Receptionists' Manifesto

Guess who’s running the reception as we speak? You guessed right! It’s only temporary, this short half of an hour, but I’m enjoying every second of it. Why? Well, I’ve been thinking about just that.

I feel like a god, sitting here directing incoming calls with the smallest whim from the end of my fingertips. I wonder if receptionists always feel this way?

"We are powerful, but ignored. When you come into work, you say ‘hi’, but really think we are simple people deserving the low income that we manage to get hold of. Or maybe you just abuse us sexually. Or both."

Well, Receptionists UNITE! This here be your manifesto!

I’ve been sitting here like God for five minutes already. I now understand that I decide what the truth is. If someone from the national newspaper phones in to get a hold of one of our scientists, I can decide that the wanted person is having lunch. Or in a meeting. Or simply not available, without giving any reason. I am the truth. I, the receptionist.

To any internal or incoming calls I am also the Source of All Knowledge. I am the one who knows where that guy parked his car this morning.. Ok, I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter. Everyone believes that I do. I am a religion. I define facts and fiction.

Also, people of upper class wants me to treat them like it. Hence, I am above. Uber-upper class! With my will alone, and a couple of buttons pressed, I can cut in in any meeting to give a message, if that’s what I prefer. If I decide that matters are important, these matters will fly like lightning through the filters of people to the recipient’s attention. Nothing overrules the Receptionist. Hence, I part important from non-important. I am matters’ master, not servant. I am all matter that exist in the minds of those below my will. All ties begins and ends with me. I am the receptionist.

I am the all powerful. All information flows through me, I am the gatekeeper which holds the key to the temple, and in this temple you’ll only see what I decide to.

In other words: All your base are belong to us!

Goddamn, I can’t believe people dislike this job. Now, how about that lunch?

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