Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Bad Jokes Never Change

I've been trying to get some work done in my office while one of my seniors works a jigsaw puzzle across the room, talking out loud to himself.  Non-stop.  He comes each week for lunch: 3 hours early to work on the puzzle and today he decided to stay two hours after lunch.  I wouldn't mind if my air conditioner wasn't malfunctioning (again) and blowing hot air instead of cool. (It was 70 degrees when I left the room to serve lunch, now it's almost 80).   

As my office begins resembling a steamy jungle with a mumbling, jigsaw puzzle working mosquito in the background, Hubby calls with construction related questions.  (Yeah, the construction that was suppose to happen LAST week while I was on vacation).  Hubby doesn't like the computer.  He thinks sending an e-mail means dictating to me as I sit in front of the screen.  Today, sweat dripping from my brow as my internal temperature began overtaking my sense of humor, I talked him through printing a document from e-mail and faxing it.  However, every time I answered one of Hubby's questions, my senior would call out, "What?  Are you talking to me?" from across the room.

So here I am.  Working to answer Hubby's texts (a method he prefers because he can dictate to the phone), re-booting the air conditioner (it's a long story...but it saves on repair calls), and cursing the work computer (making my senior yell, ""What?  Are you talking to me?")  when my cell phone rings.  I don't recognize the number.  Lately a slew of telemarketers have discovered my cell number.  And yet, for some reason, (impending heat stroke?)  I answer it any way.  A child's voice says,

"Is your refrigerator running?"

Sigh.

I decide the best thing to do is just hang up, without comment.  I block the number because this kid calls frequently, thinking it's her Grandma, no matter how many times I tell her she has the wrong number.  Although the day she left a message demanding, "Grandma bring me jewelry.  Not the junk stuff.  REAL jewelry!"  I was tempted to call back and discuss her manners.  I didn't.  Because I might have been rude.

So as I sit here melting, wondering if my office will ever be cool and quiet again at the same time, I glance at my cell phone.  And a funny thing happens.

I burst our laughing.

How long, I wonder, have bored little kids randomly dialed a number to ask, "Is your refrigerator running?"

Tell you the truth....I was a little tempted to reply, "Do you have Prince Albert in a can?"   But, in my overheated and agitated state, I might've merely lectured that it was her responsibility to catch the fridge and let Prince Albert out.  

Some things in childhood you just have to learn on your own. 

4 comments:

Thom Robinson said...

Hello Kentucky Fried Chicken. How large are your breasts? LOL

savannah said...

*groaning*


xoxoxoxox

hope said...

Hubby and I laughed that had I resorted to the Prince Albert question, she probably would've hung up on me out of confusion. :)

Jerry said...

I'm glad to see that some kids still do that. Actually engaging in harmless fun. I had forgotten that those times existed.