My favorite bit: Low Red Moon by Mike Chen, Chapter 30, pages 226 & 227.
"Number confirmation, please."
"My designation is Jay-Ex-Three-Nine-Four-En-Dee-"
"No, your number," she says with a heavy sigh.
"That is my designation as assigned by my manufacturer at Backtoid Combat Automata."
"Blasted droid," she says at a volume too low for a conversational exchange, then returns to her normal tone. "Take a number."
It appears that everyone in this building speaks with a significant lack of specificity. If I were capable of being infuriated, this would likely trigger that emotion. "Take it where?"
Above us, an audio announcement plays out. "Now serving customer...C21...at window four." The receptionist points above at a small mounted speaker not fully flush with the wall, then to a small kiosk in the back corner by the stairs. "There is an order for service. Get a number there. Then wait."
Behind her is a large space filled with various employees at the desks, along with two roaming astromech droids painted brown and white, as well as a central mainframe system lined with linking status lights. I run a time-and-effcincy calculation, outputting two options:
Option one: Kill this clerk and anyone who provides resistance. Break down the counter and then access the mainframe. Connect my data pad and download records, either in bulk or by specific request, whichever will take less time.
Option two: Take a number.
The first option would likely result in interface from the local authorities, which may then attract Imperial attention to both myself and Jaylen. Though more immediately gratifying, it invites the potential for far more delays and ultimately violate my primary directive to serve Jaylen.
"I will take a number," I say.