I had the worst phone solicitor ever call me this morning. It was barely ten a.m. Just picture this...the phone rings. I look up from my contemplation of the morning paper, and answer.
My first impression was the person on the other end had just woken up, and was apparently confused as to whom had called whom.
"H'lo? Who ishthish?"
I blinked. "I have no idea. You tell me."
"Oh!" What little of her brain that had not been pickled in whatever she'd been drinking for breakfast kicked in. "Oh, uh... my namesh Alisha, an' I'm callin' fer Holiday Villish...Villifff... HOMES, an'... an'..."
"Who is this?" I asked at my most repressive.
"Um... I'm Alish... Alishes... Alish-sh-sh-shaaa, and I'm calling fer... fer..."
"Maybe you should read your little card," I said helpfully.
"Oh, can't read that, ish all blurry an' keeps moving..."
"Maybe you should move with it."
"Makes me shick..."
Weak laughter. "I'm... I'm calling because...er... why'm I calling you?"
"Because you're drunk and you have no idea what you're doing?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm drunk. Heh. An'... who're you, again?"
Sigh. This is too easy. "Britney Spears. I want you to arrange my comeback."
"Oh. Bummer. Can't stand Britney Spears. She's all fat an' can't sshing worth a damn-fuck."
"Then perhaps you'd better hang up."
Like I said, too easy. Geez, I know a job as a phone solicitor can suck, but how bad does the job have to be that you have to get drunk before you start making your calls?
I know, I know, I could have played with her mind a whole lot more than I actually did, but you know, I was enjoying a peaceful morning, feeling kinda happyish, and not really in a snarky mood. Hey, I did the best I could with the materials I had to work with!! I admit, the reason Britney Spears popped into my head was because I was looking at an article about her mom writing a ...er... parenting book. I wonder if it's a reverse manual, as in, "if you want happy, well-adjusted kids... don't do this."
One can only hope...