When I came into work I knew I had better find a way to contain my Cheshire cat grin or else someone was going to know that I was doing things I wasn't suppose to all by my lonesome in the office. Then I saw the note on my locker from Wilma, the accounting manager. That ought to take my smile away.
"Caresse, when Dr. Prospero brought his check over last night he forgot to sign it. Why didn't you notice? It should have been obvious. I called his office this afternoon and his receptionist said the only time he can come in to do it is around the same time tonight. Don't cop an attitude when he gets here. Wilma."
Who has an attitude? Moi? I don't think so. What should I say? I didn't notice that he hadn't signed the check because I was too busy sucking his cock? Oh well, back to the boardroom and the endless, incessant ringing of telephones.
I had not placed one foot into the boardroom when the second shift supervisor motioned for me to take over the supervisor station. "I can't take it anymore. Foxhills Condominiums has a transformer down and those people are going crazy."
Oh, no! Nothing is worse than a bunch of condo-habitating doctors, lawyers, real-estate agents and various other holier-than-thous without electricity. They become wild animals.
"Good evening. Foxhills Condo Association. This is Caresse. How may I help you?"
"This damn electricity has been out for hours..." It had begun. The woman proceeded to explain every hardship in over-exaggerated, extra vivid detail like a power outage is something she had never seen before.
"Ma'am, they are aware of the problem and they are working on it. I can't page anyone because it would take them away from the worksite and cause delays, but I would be happy to take a message."
"Well, that just won't do, young lady!"
Another twenty minute speech on how stupid I, the condo association and the whole situation in general was before it finally dawned on her that I was just the answering service and, literally, all I could do was take a message. I spent the whole time thanking the powers that be that I live on the southside, almost an hour drive from her side of the city.
Six more calls came in, one after the other, in rapid succession. The screen was blinking bright red from the overrings. To me, it was the dumbest thing I had heard of all week. Last month, when my power went out, me and my roommates gathered a bunch of candles and incense and said ancient Egyptian love spells. They must have worked because some of the best sex I had ever had was due to arrive in about four hours.
"Good evening. Foxhills Condo Association. This is Caresse. How may I help you?"
"I am going to use some ugly language so don't take it personally."
A polite asshole. Just what I needed. Enough was enough. I wasn't going to take it any more.
"Good. The moment you start with obscenities I have authority to hang up the phone."
"What?! You can't do that!"
"I certainly can if you start throwing a temper tantrum and cussing like a schoolboy. I only have time to talk to grown-ups."
"I am a grown-up, bitch!"
Click. That magic red hang-up button. Now I know why it's my favorite.
"Good evening. Foxhills Condo Association. This is Caresse. How may I help you?"
"Yes, someone just rudely hung up on me."
"Yes, I did."