You have no new mail. Everyone hates you.
Today I have been compulsively checking my email. I’m not really sure why (okay, I do know why but I’m pretending it’s for unknown reasons so I feel less lame) and just now it was like a scene in a movie.
INT. QUIET OFFICE – LATE AFTERNOON
Music plays in the background, barely noticeable. We scan the room and stop at the woman sitting at her computer. As she CLICKS THE MOUSE, she tenses visibly. We watch over her shoulder as her little Gmail envelop stays closed.
Sparkle Pants’ face falls and gets all sad-looking.
BACK TO SCENE
The woman cries as the song that makes her feel like smashing her head into a brick wall ends.
Okay, so obviously I’m not a script-writer. But I swear it happened something like that, only less interestingly (and without the crying), if you can believe it.