I just received two odd phone calls.

An eerie-sounding man called to complain that his neighbor's palm tree had fronds that extended to his property, and that when he tried to trim them, he got an infection. I very nicely (i.e., completely disaffectedly, in case it was a prank, which it almost sounded like) told him that I have no jurisdiction over a matter like that. While I was speaking, he interrupted me several times to "readjust," which meant repeat his initial question and tell me over and over how "nice" I am, and when I told him to deal directly with his neighbor, he requested my boss's voice mail in order to leave a message complimenting me and recommending that I get a raise. He asked me if there was a "code name" he should use, and when I hesitated, clarified that he wanted to know MY name, so I told him, although I probably just should have gone with a code name. "Agent Seventeen." "Carmelita." Something other than what I did tell him, which was my real name. Anyway, I have a sneaking suspicion he left a message saying "Your assistant is a total moron!" but I'll have to wait til Paul returns to find out.

Sweater lady, i.e., Girl B, from this morning, called to say she won't attend my pre-birthday party after all, as she has decided to go see Styx instead. Damn you, Tommy Shaw--you win AGAIN!

Star of the day. . .Mr. Fotheringham

posted @ 4:20 p.m. on October 1, 2004 before | after