God did it.

Mrs. Woolf is dead and my chances of ever working in a place where walls reach the ceiling are remarkably slim. I am afraid that I will end up selling flaming pants in a kiosk. I dread kiosks as much as call centres- perhaps moreso for I was once attacked by a kiosk, in a Budapest shopping mall. A kiosk fell on me and the kiosk attendant (who was understandably disgruntled being Hungarian and a kiosk attendant) apologized by way of saying "God did it." As of yet, I have never been attacked by a call centre, though of course it remains a possibility.