"Oh no, those poor ticket buyers. How can we make this right?"
A fit of laughter washed over the C-level executive suite as hardened stoic expressions melt under the absurdity of the line.
For the Ticketmaster empire has fulfilled its purpose once again; to draw out the anger, to be the hated, to consume and regurgitate the evils and greeds of the land.
Lunch is delivered, and that was the last thought on the matter for the day. Talk of vacation homes and weekend yacht excursions permiate the walls; yellowed ever so slightly over the decades.
The delivery driver sulks away, untipped, from the lions den as their phone buzzes with a new notification.
Sender: haveibeenpwned.com
"Oh, shit. What this time?"