The Missing Key on the Keyboard

Dear Delyara, It is 2:30 AM, and the cheap, membrane keyboard attached to the terminal in this guard shack is missing its 'R' key, leaving just a tiny, exposed black plastic switch that hurts my fingertip every time I press it. I’m attempting to type up the operational protocols for our platform moderators, and every single sentence requires me to deliberately jab my finger into that sharp metal housing. It’s an insignificant inconvenience, but after six hours of isolation, these small physical frustrations start to take on massive proportions. They represent the absolute lack of care or quality in this environment. I took a small piece of blue tape from my bag and wrapped it around the switch to cushion the edge, a temporary fix for a temporary life, before continuing to build my system word by painful word.