You put the call through to Murph.

Minutes later, Murph, eight feet tall, shaggy and pissed off, walks into your cubicle.

“First off: I am not your motherfucking receptionist. You get a call, you take it motherfucker. Or send that shit through to 3297, okay? Second, Bigfoot is a racist word created by the white establishment to keep my people oppressed. Say that shit again, and I will fuck you up. Got it? Third, from what that punk-ass on the phone described, those ain’t Sasquatch attacking Disneyland: they’re fucking Yeti. Abominable Motherfucking Snowmen. Completely different, you racist piece of shit. Do I look like I was born in the Himalayas to you?”

You:

1) Go to the H.R. department and file a formal complaint against Murph for his continued abusive behavior;

or, you:

2) Keep this shit real and beat the fuck out of this Chewbacca-looking motherfucker right then and there for talking shit (even though Murph is twice your size and four times your strength). Handle yo’ biddness, padnuh’!