Dial M for Meddling
He Said: I’ve been using the phone since I was eight, and even though I may be rather quick on the “good-byes” (eg: FRIEND: “And that was the last time I ever saw my dad…” ME: “That’s sad… okay, gotta go, talk to you later!”) I’m still pretty good at the whole thing. Or so I thought until I got married. That’s when my wife decided that she would be my communications spotter, or phone fluffer, if you will, and help me get through every call.
She Said: You should hear yourself. If for some reason you can’t, our neighbors could probably recite everything you said-slash-shouted into the phone since we moved in. Not perfectly, of course; you leave out crucial pieces of information, go on bizarre tangents or just trail off with a series of “Anyway, whatevers”. That’s why I write you notes and email you as you speak…
He Said: Or mime things like a slow-witted orangutan. It’s frustrating to be talking to my manager and hear you shout something I can’t understand. I have to ask you to repeat it, you do, then I relay the message like some hapless ten-year-old pleading with his mother. MOM: “Yes, you can sleep over at Garth Klimchuk’s, but his parents are not to give you Kool-aid after 8 or you’ll wet the bed.”
She Said: Come on, I’m helpful.
He Said: You’re annoying. If I’m on the phone booking a hotel room, you don’t need to pretend you’re smoking a cigarette for me to book a non-smoking room.
She Said: How about the time you gave the Thai restaurant our old address? Huh? Huh? I saved the day that time.
He Said: That was one time, and the only reason I gave them the wrong address is because I was so flustered with all your ordering instructions. I said “not too spicy” five times, ‘cause God forbid I only say it four, and our Koog Pig Pao is rendered inedible. We should be deeply grateful I never pursued a career in hostage crisis. I think it would go a little something like this…
He Said: Hello, this is Lieutenant HeSaid of the police. Who am I talking to…? Gary? Okay, Gary this is important. You are surrounded. Our first concern is the safety of your hostages. What can we do for you to release some of them…? I see… okay. (TO TEAM) He wants pizza from Vinny’s.
She Said: (Whispering) Nooo, not Vinny’s! Tell him their crust is too thick. It’s like eating a slipper. Pizza Rustica is better.
He Said: Um, Gary? I’m thinking maybe you should go with Pizza Rustica. Better crust… (TO TEAM) Okay, Gary agrees.
She Said: And make sure he blots the cheese.
He Said: I’m not telling him that. A man in a 30-pound dynamite vest is not concerned with excess dinner grease. (TO HOSTAGE TAKER) Gary, is there anybody you want to talk to that might help resolve this?
She Said: Don’t just say “anybody!” Specify who. People get panicky when you generalize. This is just like the time you told the painters they could choose whatever shade of brown they wanted for the hallway. One man’s cosmic latte is another man’s poop sorbet.
He Said: (TO HOSTAGE TAKER) Gary, would you like to talk to somebody in particular? A friend, a relative, your wife… What’s that? Look, I don’t know why I put your wife third. Of course, I should have listed her first… No, Gar, I don’t think she’s a bad person… Wait, wait, is your wife there now telling you what to say?! I thought so. Tell you what, why don’t you release all the hostages in place of me. Then, once we’re alone in the building, we can make the only choice we both have left…
