"Hey," a voice comes from behind you. "Here's your pizza." The young woman hands you a battered-looking box.
"Look, I'm really busy right now," you say.
"Great," she says, and puts the box down. "Um, can I use your phone?"
Without waiting for reply she picks it up, listens, makes a face. "I was afraid of that," she says, and hands you the phone. It's dead.