Wednesday, May 5, 2010

You can call me Miss Communication.

Bong was in a tizzy. The MICA shuttle was MIA and her phone is broken. She needed to get to Phyllis. So when she was standing on our stoop waiting for the shuttle I decided to offer her my help. I decided to call Phyllis.

The phone was answered within two rings, except it wasn't Phyllis. It was her husband, Stu. I didn't know that.
Stu: Hello?
Me: This is the office of Bong Mee Lee.
Stu: This is the office of WHO?!
Me: (thinking) This is not Phyllis. Oh shit.
(speaking) Oh! Sorry! Wrong number!

Meanwhile, Bong was on the stoop looking up at me in my window.

"That wasn't Phyllis," I chortled.
"Who was it?"
"I don't know."

I recalled that Phyllis had given out her number to our group of SACI kids and it was tucked away behind several emails. I dug, neƩ clicked around until I found it. It matched the number I had in my phone, so I thought to myself, "I wonder if it was Phyllis...?"

So I called again.

Stu: Hello?
Me: Is this Phyllis?
Stu: This is Stuart.

After an awkward conversation teeming with my own nervous laughter and mussed syntax, he gave me her cell phone number and hung up. I threw my head out the window, and proceeded to tell Bong the whole story.

And the shuttle never came.

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