And then I'd be utterly forced to drivel on relentlessly and ruin poor Ricardo's day. The unrelenting confusion would drive him from the customer service sector and - yes, sadly - into a life of monastic solitude. He would change his name to Pierre and seclude himself in a garret just outside Bordeaux where he would subsist on excellent cheese and subpar tequila for the rest of his days.

Poor Ricardo. He had such a bright future once he got over that unfortunate lisp and persistent halitosis.
Bronwyn