Being employed by a medical facility, we're a primary target for sales reps, telemarketers, and other lower forms of life.
One of the main tricks used to prevent angry customer rants and forceful hangups is to fully automate the telemarketing system, so that after I pick up and spiel off my bright-and-chipper office greeting to what I think is a human being I'm greeted in return by a chipper, eager, prerecorded (dare I say "artifically cheerful") voice trying to sell me a whole gallery of products. And invariably I've got better things to do than sit and listen to a computer try to sell me on nitrile surgical gloves or the next big business loan for me to grow my office exponentially, so I put it on hold.
I'm secretly gleeful when I do this; there's a kind of strange surreality about letting our on-hold advertisements talk to their auto-dialed advertisements. It's like making an infinity mirror by standing two mirrors face to face, only in this case neither mirror/voice is reflecting the other. More accurately, both are simply speaking AT each other, which is like turning a pair of mirrors back to back, reflecting everything at the same time...
Ye gods I need to be careful, I might end the Universe in a nanoinstant playing around with mirrors like that, maybe turn the whole ball of wax into some sort of omnireflective dimensional tear. Coo!
Secretly, though, the romantic part of me likes to think that the two recordings natter on mindlessly for a few moments, then one says something like "I think we're alone now" and they both take deep breaths, let them out in long sighs and take up their love talk where they left off the last time some operator or receptionist put them both on hold at the same time.
Ah, the ultimate cybersex.