... to talk to my wife, and you don't want me to think that you are an ass, then the thing you really mustn't do is begin our conversation with the following:
"Is Julie there?"
The only thing that prevents me from going off on people who do this is my wife's insistence that it's unreasonable to expect people, given modern manners, to identify themselves first. "But these are adults!" I say, though I usually add a profane modifier to "adults." I don't want to embarrass her, though, so I stifle my response. But I've got to stop that. I really do. It only encourages them.
Honestly, this kind of thing makes me hot. Julie was on her way home from the Y just now when the phone rang. It's almost time for the late local news. I pick it up. An unfamiliar male voice says:
"Is Julie there?"
It was some coach trying to arrange a sports lesson for one of the boys. Can you imagine a strange man calling a woman's house this late at night, getting what he must imagine is the husband on the phone, and saying as the first words out of his mouth, "Is your wife there?"
Ass.
Know what else he said? "Tell her that 5:30 at the park is best. She'll know what I'm talking about." As it happens, I knew what he was talking about because she'd told me that she was thinking about engaging him to teach a sport to the boys. But again, I ask you: can you imagine talking to a man whose name you haven't even bothered to ask, and leaving that kind of message for his wife?
Needless to say, my children will not be taking lessons from this lout. The thing is, I'm willing to bet he's a nice man, but like everybody else of our generation and younger, scandalously ill-mannered.
Oh, and if you're Chick-fil-a, and you want to keep my family's business, you had bloody well not program your robo-caller to dial my house at SEVEN O'CLOCK ON A SATURDAY MORNING to remind us that Chick-fil-a serves breakfast. I officially hate you now, Chick-fil-a, you ill-mannered pullet pushers!
Harrumph!
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A friend of mine - an older attorney - is perturbed beyond words when my receptionists will ask on the phone, "May I say who is calling?" He thinks it an unconscionable intrusion, for some odd reason. (He is full of such oddities, btw.)
I always know who it is when the receptionist tells me that "Cardinal Law" is calling.
Actually, I'm not a rectory receptionist. The rectory is a mile away from the church so the priests can get some peace and quiet! I actually don't mind TOO MUCH when people say, "someone called me from this number" even though we have 10 employees, I can usually ask them if there's any reason someone would have called them (RCIA? Baptism class?) and perhaps even find out what staff member called them.
What fries me is people attending our soup kitchen calling their friends from the phone in the fellowship hall, not getting them, hanging up, and then the person sees the caller ID and calls back and they are totally completely clueless and so am I and they say can you run over to the soup kitchen (outside, one building away, I'd have to leave the front desk unattended) and ask a room full of strangers if they called Billy Bob. OK, so I'm not Mother Teresa, I'm sorry, but that does annoy me. But I try to be patient. I am always nice to people who call, no matter how idiotic they are. It's good for my soul to have to be patient to people who are annoying. But it's hard. I could use the mortification though. Really, people think a church office is a nice soft cushy job but they are SO WRONG! Especially if your church is in a bad, rundown neighborhood. And mentally ill people come in every day to talk to you. Bless their hearts though, they have a reason and they are lonely.
It's not just me though. We have a church secretaries' group in my town (all the others are Protestants) and they tell me the funniest and weirdest stories about callers. People are so strange sometimes! The only job I have had that tried my patience more was being a cashier at a Mickey D's (horrible rude ill-bred hateful customers).
Really, I am a patient tolerant person. Yes, really...........
[after Rosemary Clooney]:
Call up-a my house, my house-a call up...
"You call-a my wife, I break-a you face..." - trailer for The Rodfather, Part II: Vengeance of the Patriarch
I know a Tuscan waltz melody you can use for the soundtrack.
It's not only the young. I work in an office, and most of the people who call are older. They hardly ever identify themselves, and sometimes even act surprised when I can't recognize the voice ... and then are upset with me! I constantly have to say, "Who's calling please?" Infuriating!
MJ
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