Friday, September 13, 2013

Working Through It

So I have already posted this morning about having to deal with a bunch of attorneys who don't realize that "second floor" means "two".  Or how to get from the seventh floor to the second.  These are attorneys.  Not cats, ATTORNEYS. 
But the following is my favorite part of the morning. 
We have two Major Asshole Attorneys.  Neither of whom use voicemail.  If someone calls them and they aren't here, I have to take a message and email them.  Okay, maybe there's some legal reason for this, whatever, I do little enough at my job, I can handle that. 
One of the MAA's calls this morning.  I can tell it's him, because my phone screen tells me it is, but I pretend I don't know it's him, because I like to create the illusion of having no contact with him.  He asks to speak with one of the attorneys who's not in yet.  So I say, "I'm sorry, he's not in yet, would you like to leave a message on his voicemail?"  My logic behind this is twofold:
1.  I'm still trying to pretend I don't know it's him; and
B.  While I know he doesn't like to use voicemail to retrieve messages, I thought he might not be averse to leaving voicemail messages for others.  In other words, he's not a Catcher, but  maybe he is a Pitcher.  And, yes, I just equated using voicemail to gay sex. 
Anyroad, I ask him this, and my query is met with a Haughty Silence, followed by him saying, "This is Mr. Asshole *not his real name* and I choose not to participate."  I wanted desperately to finish his sentence with "in the 21st century.", but I didn't.  Cause my kitties need food.  And Momma needs beer.
Like right now.

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