--answering the phone. Thankfully, it's a day after a holiday, and so there aren't that many calls. Likewise, only one angry citizen who has gotten herself entangled with one of the many mental deficients who populate the main floor of our building. The feeble-minded person who was dealing with her first called upstairs where I tried to tell him the guy he was looking for was gone. Not being able to make Mr. Microbrain [not his real name] understand the concept of "gone," I decided to transfer his phone call so he could hear for himself what "gone" means.
After listening to the intermittent tinkling-buzzy sound of an unanswered telephone, yet completely oblivious and undeterred as to what "not here" was like, some minutes later he showed up to inquire about the person he'd phoned earlier.
"He's gone. Still."
I then had to hear the story (such as it was) of why he couldn't help out the angry citizen downstairs as it was being told to someone else on our floor. Someone who had no idea about what was going on.
So then, Mr. Microbrain hied himself back downstairs. Sometime later, a lady came up asking to speak to the very same Man Who Is Gone.
"Ma'am, he's out of the office in the field, and I'm not sure when he'll return."
"Well, I was just downstairs and they sent me up here to talk to him and" Etc., etc.
I finally understood that this lady was the one whom Mr. Microbrain had been dealing with. "Uh--ma'am? Ma'am? Did Mr. Microbrain send you up here?" "Yes, he did! And I am trying to figure out--" More of her story, etc.
I finally managed to talk to a Muckety-muck, whose only help was in telling me to tell her to go back downstairs and wait to speak to someone else. Who just happens not to be in the office at the moment.
Golly--and people around here wonder why no one likes dealing with us!
Posted by Terry Oglesby at May 30, 2006 03:27 PM