If you have contacted me for information, pause once and awhile so that I can get a word in, will you? This happens every so often when I have the misfortune to take a phone call. I hate phone calls. Whenever I return to my cubicle and see the red flashing light on my telephone indicating a voice-mail message, I immediately groan and mumble something along the lines of “god fucking damn it… I don’t want to talk to anybody.” If I’m lucky, it is just CVS calling, yet again, to let me know that the medications I’ve put on automatic refill are ready for pick up.* Or else it is my friend Birdie, who knows that I hate voice-mail but who insists upon leaving them, in a very professional manner, should I not be at my desk whenever she calls. On these occasions, I am perfectly happy to have gotten worked up for nothing. But then there are the other occasions.
I am responsible for recruiting and credentialing physicians who work for my company. We have specific requirements and criteria that must be met before we will even consider an application. Many physicians like to be certain they are eligible before they complete the mountain of paperwork and so they call me, their friendly, helpful, eager to please point of contact. Sometimes they want to know if they can return signature pages only as opposed to the eight hundred non-signature pages that are included with their materials. Other times they wish to know if the fact that they are licensed in seven different states is a benefit. Those are easy questions and when the physician on the other side of the telephonic connection is a rational and direct person, things go well. Sadly, there are many, many, many non-rational and indirect assholes out there who like to chatter on or, better yet, argue with me about why my company should let them do x y or z even if they don’t meet the criteria.**
This morning I had the misfortune of returning a message to a very long-winded physician who had one, easy, quick question that lasted for fifteen minutes. At one point I said “I’m going to put you on hold and run down the hall to ask the director and I’ll be with you in a moment” only to have this particular physician say “OK” and then proceed to blather on for three or four minutes more. I’m not even sure what exactly he said during the fifteen minute call because I eventually quit listening (the participation desired on my side seems to have just been empty agreements and sympathetic/understanding grunts) and just continued on with some other work.
Are these people lonely or do they sincerely enjoy hearing themselves speak? Seriously, who goes on and on and on with their life story and work history when all they need from the other person is a simple answer to a question? I called my optometrist’s office today to confirm that I was being seen at the Bethel Road location for my appointment and I didn’t hold the receptionist hostage by explaining that I’ve had trouble getting lost in the past or that I couldn’t google map the location or that I used to see someone whose name I can’t recall when I lived in Delaware and boy did I have a bad experience with that particular practice. No, I simply asked if I was being seen at the Bethel Road location and was it located across the street from that fancy restaurant. The gentleman who answered the phone confirmed this information and we said our goodbyes.
I suppose I should just consider myself lucky that I do not work with a passel of these long-winded, self-indulgent, chatty Cathys.
*I keep waiting for the day that the automated voice gets nasty with me for not coming in to pick up my prescriptions. One day, I’m convinced, the message will change from “… your prescriptions will be held for FOUR days” to “Look douchebag, YOU were the one to set this shit up and you knew that it meant that we’d automatically refill your scripts so can you just fucking come get them? I’m tired of calling your forgetful ass.”
**Regardless of the field in which I’ve worked, my favorite type of idiot to come across is the one who informs me that I should change a policy. This especially tickled me when I worked for a hotel chain because I would internally smirk at the ‘guest’ and think “yeah, the girl in the polyester vest and plastic name badge wields a LOT of policy-making power.”
In other news, I choked today. Literally. I managed to swallow my own spit incorrectly and this led to a prolonged bout of very attractive seal noises as I tried to take deep breaths in order to cough it out. The person who sits on the other side of my cubicle asked if I was OK* and the general manager of the company, whose office is just outside said cubicle, peered over and said “she’s breathing.”
This has got to be one of the most embarrassing things that can happen in a public place or the office. There is simply no dignity in choking unless you require the Heimlich maneuver, which lends importance and danger to the incident. What I did just shows that my throat and swallowing function are subnormally intelligent and get confused when a little bit of saliva is trying to make its way down. And it is always so loud when it happens! There is no covering it up or keeping it quiet and private. Instead, it is like having an annoying, braying laugh that others can hear on the other side of the office. That coupled with the red face from lack of oxygen make me feel so dainty and sophisticated.
The worst part? This happens to me far more frequently than it seems to happen to other people. The reason I know what to do and how to handle it quickly, and my ability to run out of a room or head for an exit is because this experience is disturbingly common for me. Lousy swallowing function!**
*Why do people insist on asking me if I’m OK when I’m choking? What the fuck am I supposed to say? I can’t breath for fucks sake!
**Ha ha, yes, swallowing function. Go ahead and make your blow job jokes.
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