The other night at 6 o’clock sharp our home phone rang. Because I recognized the unknown number as a call I had blown off earlier, I decided I’d better answer it. Maybe we’d won an all-expense paid Carribbean vacation?
The caller was a pleasant sounding woman who asked if I had a few minutes to complete a survey about health care services in my community.
Did I have a few minutes? Is sweet tea a Southern summer staple? Is Target retail heaven on Earth?
Didn’t she realize she was calling at dinner time, otherwise known as the witching hour? Was she nuts? Or just plain rude?
Because I am too nice
an idiot, I told her “yes,” and she proceeded to ask me about a thousand questions about our local health care system.
About 30 seconds into the phone call, several cosmic forces aligned to make it the worse phone episode I bet the survey lady has had, and ever will, encounter.
The hubby and Caitlin walked in the door. At the same time, a client who has figured out how to buzz the hubby directly, buzzed him about a computer issue that apparently was so dire that he felt the need to contact the hubby directly after hours at home. Because you know…the issue. It’s sooooo dire. So dire, the client waited until dinner time to talk to the hubby about something that needed to be done for the next business day.
But I digress. Obviously people have the impression that we are lounging in the evenings in our silk pajamas, sipping martinis, listening to jazz, while the girls play contentedly with their nanny, our personal chef is whipping up dinner, and the dogs are having their auras read at the corner doggie spa.
As I was trying to answer survey questions and the hubby was trying to talk to his client, Caitlin looked at the cereal bar that Amelia was eating and asked for one. Actually it was more like she whined incessantly and tugged on my arm until I told her we didn’t have any more cereal bars and that couldn’t she see I was on the phone and to please sit down and I’d be RIGHT WITH HER!!!!
You would have thought that I’d just told Caitlin that Dora and Boots had perished tragically in a hot lava incident because she cried hysterically for a good 10 minutes while I was freaking bound and determined to finish the phone survey. Then Amelia started wailing. I’m pretty sure Bailey also started to bark at something but by then I was in a stress trance and ignoring everyone and wandering aimlessly down the hall to our bedroom where I could lock the door. 6 o’clock would have been ushered in even more perfectly if someone had knocked on our front door to see if we wanted to buy replacement windows.
Any way, it was so bad that toward the end of the call, when the woman asked me if I had children under the age of 18, that we both started laughing.