Levedy

Crazy Lady 1, Jen 0

So Lindsey calls me from the office telling me that a strange woman had called asking for me. Lindsey said I wasn’t there, and could she take a message? The woman got snippy and wouldn’t leave a message, but demanded that Lindsey give her my home number. “No way, lady” Was Lindsey’s response. She added that there was no way she would give out private information without (a) substantial amounts of cash or (b) a durned good reason why she needed my number. The lady wouldn’t provide either. Lindsey managed to coax a name and number out of the woman, and told her she would pass the info on to me.

I don’t recognize the lady’s name. I have three theories about the woman. Theory one: she was a nurse from my Gynecologist’s office (I’m expecting a return call, and they won’t give medical information over the phone to strangers.) Problem with theory one: the woman wouldn’t identify herself as nurse so-and-so from Dr. Whatshisface’s office. Surely the name of the doctor does not constitute private/privileged information.

Theory two: I assume that it’s an SAT mom (they can get clingy) whose surname differs from that of her kid. Problem with theory two: While clingy, possessive, and often obsessive, SAT moms (Parentificus overbearingus) are also whiny as a lot, and will generally bend any available ear with their percevied traumas. This lady wouldn’t make a peep about the purpose of her call, nor did she identify herself as So-and-so’s mom, another telling trait of P. overbearingus.

Theory three (deprecated) - It’s a plan on behalf of the Overlord to confuse his minions, thus returning a certain level of chaos to the universe. Problem with theory three: It’s a stupid idea.

So I call the number, expecting to hear “Dr. Whathisface’s, how’s your vulva today?” Instead, I hear the tinkling voice of a young receptionist say “Dewey, Cheatem, and How law offices, how’s your litigant today?” er, okay. Theory one is shot; onward towards theory two. The SAT mom is a lawyer. Greeeeaaat. A traumatized lawyer SAT mom. Just launch me into a nest of hungry vipers, why don’t you? Better yet, dangle me over a vat of rusty razors in lemon juice. “May I please speak to [crazy lady’s name]? This is Jennifer McNamee returning her call.” Greeeeaaat. Abba on the hold music. See that girl. Something something seventeen. Something something dancing queen. I never “got” Abba. I don’t quite understand how it was substantial enough to support a long-running musical.

Crazy lady picks up the speakerphone. Boy, she must really be important. Non-Executive-more-important-than-you (read: polite) people don’t talk to you on speakerphone. Yes, we can put men on the moon and communicate clearly with satellites hurtling around Saturn, but making a person sound like something other than an asthmatic donkey in a mine shaft is a little too technical for the folks at Ma Bell.

Donkey with an inhaler: “Hello Jennifer. Thank you for returning my call.”

Polite: “Not a problem. To be honest, I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize your name. What was the purpose of your call earlier today?”

Exasperated: “You know what? I really don’t like the tone of this conversation. Goodbye.” *click*

Okaaay. Someone obviously had two bowls of crazy flakes this morning. My tone wasn't rude, I don’t know why the woman would hang up. If she were an SAT mom, her response would have been “My son’s therapist said that he isn’t hugged enough at home. Could this affect the Verbal score on his SAT...?”

Anyone have a theory four?

Posted by Jen at July 23, 2004 3:07 PM