Why are you staring?

Hey Shannon, you're on speaker...

Anyone who knows me, and my family should know before any others, that if I call you or you call me it is really best to let me know that I am on speakerphone BEFORE YOU EVER LET ME START TALKING.

YOU, human, have no idea what kind of day I’m having and chances are it is the first thing that you will hear about in our phone call. If I am having a bad day, my introduction will be laced with profanity. If I am having a good day, my introduction will be the laced the same. It is a constant. It will always be this way so you are best to let me know I am on speaker before I ever utter a word.

Husband, you learned the hard way that speakerphone without notification was a bad idea when I called you at work.

Son, you learned it was a bad idea in class.

Daughter, you became aware when I asked you odd questions about your laundry while you were at camp and your roommate was nearby.

Why do I do this? Because I hate talking on the phone and if you make me do it, I will hate you too.

I don’t know why I hate talking on the phone so much. When I was a teenager I loved the phone kind of like I loved the mall. Come to think of it, I hate the mall now too. Maybe I hate talking on the phone because I know that 10 minutes in I’m going to stop caring what you say. Eventually we will go to the bathroom together and I will tell you that it happened. Probably won’t need to because you will hear everything from the tinkle to the grunt to the ripping of toilet paper. I will hide nothing. I will hold the phone outward so you can hear the full depth of the flush when it is time for the fruits of my labor to be gone from me.

I have gone a week and not gotten an answer to a question simply because I didn’t want to make the phone call needed to answer it. I used to be a receptionist at an engineering firm which was a horrible idea because with the mixture of sarcasm, disgust of being told what to do, disdain for authority, dislike of being asked questions I couldn’t answer and hatred of talking on a phone which never stopped ringing seeping from my pores it created a vile aroma that no one wanted to be close to.

Which means it worked.

Talking on the phone, I hate. Me on a speaker, you'll hate.

So, if you ever have the need to call me or for me to call you, it’s best for your continued employment if you warn me about the speakerphone.

If you hate your job, then by all means call the CEO and the Board of Directors in, all while accompanied by impressionable children, forward your resume to your home email, call my number, lean back in your chair and hit the button.

Because it’s SHOWTIME, BITCHES!

posted by Shannon Land Post @ 10:18 PM