On behalf of my theatre company, Moving Arts, I just called our insurance broker for some information. Here’s the actual conversation I had with some phone-answering woman:

Me: Hi. Is Bobbie there? This is Lee Wochner, from Moving Arts.
Her: No, sorry. She’s on the phone. Do you want to hold, or can I take your information?
Me: How long will she be?
Her: I don’t know.
Me: Then I’ll leave my information. It’s Lee Wochner, from Moving Arts, and my number is (xxx-xxx-xxxx). [Those “x’s” are, obviously, where I gave her my real phone number.]
Her: OK. You said Mike?
Me: No, I said Lee. Lee Wochner. W-o-c-h-n-e-r.
Her: OK. Lee Walker.
Me: No, Wochner. That’s why I spelled it.
Her: What?
Me: Wochner. Lee Wochner. W-o-c-h-n-e-r.
Her: OK. Where are you calling from?
Me: Moving Arts. She can call me at (xxx-xxx-xxxx).
Her: OK. And you’re calling from Moving Arts.
Me: Yes.
Her: And what’s your number?

It went on this way for at least another minute. Remember the guy who would slap his hand over his own face in exasperation? That was me.

By the way, it’s hours later, and Bobbie hasn’t called me back. My theory: She didn’t get the message.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 26th, 2013 at 2:25 pm and is filed under Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.