Cynthia shook the computer with both hands, popping her gum while grumbling to herself in frustration.
“Damn thing, why won’t you connect to the internet?” she gripped the top of the computer so hard that the casing squeaked beneath her maniacal hold. She had spent the last thirty minutes trying to connect, but was still unsuccessful. She tried everything she could think of after following the directions to a tee: hook this doo-dad up to that thingy, connect that thingy to my what’s it called, enter in a password from the box, yada, yada, yada. But it didn’t work.
Cynthia slapped the top of the computer like she was trying to knock some sense into it.
“I should have bought the laptop, instead…” she mumbled.
Then, in a fit of complete anger, she shoved the cardboard boxes off the side of the desk in one fell swoop. Shwoosh went cisco, Fwump fell Dell. Cynthia felt in control, finally. She looked at the packaging that now lay scattered across the office floor, a sea of high-tech flotsam and jetsam.