The Raging Receptionist

FYI: You suck at parking.

2011-01-20T08:49:00.000-08:00

This black Volvo is always parking like a huge asshole, and more often than not, she parks in the Compact spots all stupid like this, which makes it impossible to either get out of the car or park your car there at all to begin with.

So I gave her a little taste of her own medicine. And I still caught the elevator. Karma, betches!!

An Interesting Correlation

2011-01-18T15:35:00.001-08:00

I like that the sink suddenly stays full when all the attorneys are back in the office

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Day=MADE

2011-01-07T10:12:00.000-08:00

What more could a straight(ish) ally ask for? Nothing, I think. Not a damn thing. :)

Really?

2010-10-27T11:32:00.000-07:00

This is probably the fourth or fifth call I've gotten like this in the past couple days:

"I'm calling because I was away in NY and I live in NorCal and I got this letter that said they were going to call me and they haven't called me yet."

Are. You. Effing. Kidding me?

woooooooooooooooooooo!!! (siren noise)

2010-10-26T17:27:00.001-07:00

Me:"I always have these clients calling me saying, 'It's an emergency!'"
Secretary: "'You have a lot of emergencies, sir.'"
Me: "'You're LIFE is an emergency!'"

When In Rome

2010-09-28T14:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Secretary From Another Firm Who Asks Me Questions About Specific Documents and Motions in a Specific Case,

For one, you called the MAIN OFFICE NUMBER; you have not reached a secretary, you have reached a receptionist. Don’t ask receptionists things like that, because your legal jargon might as well be Italian grammar lessons--meaning I understand “gelato”, "spaghetti" and “motion to…” but the rest of it is lots of hand gestures, tomato sauce and those 1,000-page documents with the numbers all down the left margin. It is way above my ($13-something/hr) pay grade. Please HOLD ON while I transfer someone who gets paid 3 to 30 times what I do.

Thanks so much.

The Raging Receptionist

I sorta feel bad... [from a while back]

2010-09-15T16:35:00.000-07:00

…but I sorta don’t.

Guy from one of our cases at trial just called me for the 2nd time today. The first time he called (only an hour and a half ago) I give him the cell phone number that is the contact number for those clients. Now he is calling back because he hasn’t heard from them. (What’s fucking new, right?)

Really? It’s been less than 2 hours. Did it ever cross your mind, sir, that they are IN COURT, RIGHT NOW, ALL DAY? Did it ever occur to you, sir, that we are still within normal business hours and that it would be safe to assume that they are BUSY? (P.S. that is the root word of “business”, as in “We are BUSY during BUSINESS hours.”)

I gently suggested some of these possibilities (“Well, sir, I would assume that they are in court right now, and they will return your call when they check the voice messages from the phone”). And what do you think was his response? (Don’t worry, here comes the FUN part.)

“Well I just figured that only the attorneys would be in court. I figured that the ladies would be able to answer the phone. You know, I figured the ladies wouldn’t be in trial.”

Please note the italicization. It took EVERY. CELL. IN MY BODY. To keep from losing my brain at him. Maybe most people don’t see that as sexist, because, truly, the 2 attorneys are men, and the 2 paralegals are, in fact, “ladies”. But JUST because they are LADIES doesn’t mean that you should simply refer to them as “ladies” (ESPECIALLY if you are going to refer to the men as “attorneys”, not “the men”). Also, consider the fact that he assumes that just because these women are not attorneys, that they will (a) not be in court and (b) will be there to answer his phone calls a.k.a. cater to him.

He then proceeds to complain to me (the freakin receptionist) about how he is facing disciplinary action at work because he’s already taken time off for the deposition, and now he knows he has to take time off for the trial itself, but because he can’t give his job advanced notice, they are getting pissy.

I feel bad about his job, I truly do, this economy sucks and that’s not a fun situation. But on the same token, you are continuing to berate someone (ME) who has ALREADY TOLD YOU what you can do to solve this matter, and that she herself cannot help you, nor can anyone else currently in the office. You need to CALL THE OTHER NUMBER and LEAVE A BLOODY MESSAGE.

All work and no play makes TigerLily a dull girl. [from late July]

2010-09-15T16:33:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness, I just HAD to take a little break at my new job to write an update; I think my head was about ready to spin off!
For those that are unaware, I recently left that old shitty job I was at and have gotten a new and wonderfully busy job. Fear not! I am still a receptionist and I think I will have even better stories here than I did at my last office. I now work for a law firm, and the particular type of law they practice is the perfect setting for The Raging Receptionist: they represent mobile home park tenants in failure-to-maintain suits against the park owners. (This is the main portion of the practice. We also work on some eminent domain cases and things of that nature.) This is only my sixth day and I've already had more hilariously cranky and entertainingly bizarre callers than I had in a few months at Boring Old Job (where the most exciting caller I had was a woman who had the wrong number complaining about her spoiled can of tuna fish. On a Friday in Lent. Go figure).

Prime Example: M&M's Guy
When you work for a law firm that advertises in the Yellow Pages, you're bound to get more than a few crazies. I would hope that our firm advertises our more specific area of practice, but The Average Stupid American is still apt to simply flip to the "Lawyers" section, lick the Cheeto/Dorito goop off their finger, and point at a random listing.
Enter M&M's Guy.
Senor M&M's called looking for a lawyer, and in what seemed like one, long, unending breath, told me his story. (I wasn't even able to interject to put him on hold and answer other calls, let alone communicate to him that this was NOT our area of law.) He bought an eight pack of "Fun Size" M&M's, but when he opened the package, there were only five inside. Immediately I thought, Oh my gosh, THIS is what this guy is calling about? Are you serious? Why don't you just return it to the store? But wait, there's more. Without skipping a beat he goes on to tell me that he proceeded to eat all five packages (whether it was all in one sitting or not, the world may never know--but I would totally bet my life savings on it) and then he got "really ill". Now he wants to sue M&M's (well, actually he probably wants to sue Mars Inc. but he obviously isn't aware of candy company power hierarchies) and that's all fine and dandy, but that's not what we do here. I try to explain this to him, but he doesn't really listen to me, so I pass him off to one of the paralegal's voicemails. (I found out later that she listened to the voicemail, got really confused, and then immediately drafted up a rejection letter to send to him.)
Poor guy. I hope he learns his lesson.

Guest Star: Pearl

2010-06-24T10:45:00.000-07:00

Hey, hey, hey there boys and ghouls, I'm Pearl. Bestie of the Rager herself, 22, recently rescued from the frozen tundra that is semi-rural Colorado.

Basic background? How kind of you to ask!
*Navy brat, grew up here, there, everywhere. Even overseas for a bit.
*Married, divorced, married, divorced. (Navy, then Army. Maybe I'll find a nice Marine, Airman, Coastie, Reservist and Guardsman... Orrrr not.)
*I have a two year old little monster who is a diva and KNOWS it.
*Receptionist at a Law Firm
*Snark is my first language.
*Scifi ADDICT.

So, random sample of madness? This office is SPARTA, I'm telling you.

Invisible Lawyer was in today. She comes in once a week, sometimes, we go 2 weeks without seeing her. So she comes in today, looking like a cross between the fifties and Stevie Nicks. Cardigan and flowy bohemian skirt. What. The. HELL are you even wearing? I just want to leave her a little note on her desk.

Dear Invisible Lawyer,
The fifties died. Give Stevie Nicks her skirt back. And for the love of all that is good and holy woman, DROP THAT PERFUME BOTTLE! You smell like a walking hay fever attack. I'm worried that I may ACTUALLY sneeze my brains out every time you walk by me. Also, you made it through law school. Nobody buys the "I'm so helpless and confused" act. Young Russian Lawyer does it WAY better.

Thoroughly Annoyed & Searching For The Benadryl,
The Frickin Receptionist

Guest Star: Kyle

2010-06-24T10:39:00.000-07:00

We have our first guest blogger! Kyle and Pearl are too lazy to write their own blogs on a regular basis...and let's be honest, so am I...so I volunteered a couple guest spots for them. Enjoy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The name is Kyle. And I am a File Clerk Extraordinaire! Many of you may be asking yourselves, what is a File Clerk (extraordinaire)? Is there a concentration on the FILE part, or the CLERK portion? I am here to tell you that I… literally have no idea. Here’s the deal, back in 2008, I was working in Satan’s armpit, better known as a “Customer Service Call Center” for a top 4 (and I say top 4 because it was fourth, but it sounds special, right?) insurance company. I wanted a new job, I answered a job posting on Craigslist.com, interviewed for the position and within a week from when I answered the ad, I started. On my first day on the job, I was given a desk, I filled out a bunch of papers, and I met a ton of people… I still had no idea 1.) What my job title was or what I’d be doing for the company and 2.) what the company even did.

As time went on and I found that I was their “file clerk” I just basically knew where everything was (including the files in the office) and did a bunch of lame work around the office all day. Being that it happened to be a Law Firm, that gave me “Law Experience” and now I am trapped in the Law World… it’s very unfulfilling

Keeping up with joy of doing everything and nothing, I now have my current job. Where anything and everything can fall on my shoulders, or in my lap or my “capable” hands or whatever euphemism you deem worthy.

The unpredictability of my job makes it worth coming into work everyday. Well, at least that is what I like to tell myself. Like most people I do suffer through the monotony of a “9-5” office job. I have a cubicle, I fight epic battles with copy machines, I hate people who AREN’T stuck in a cubicle and don’t have to fight losing battles with copy machines. Every other red blooded American has to do it day in and day out as well… yet for some reason, the weird stuff happens to me.

Example: Friday before a 3-day weekend. The morning is quiet. Many staff and attorneys alike are off taking advantage of the warm San Diego sun, and making a threeday weekend into a 4 (and in some cases, 5 day) weekend. Those bastards. Needless to say not everyone was gone, and a lot of people were slated to wander in late. I get a heads up from the receptionist that a rather large package (giggity) has arrived with the words emblazoned “PERISHABLE” all over the box. I knew that the person that it was addressed to would be in the office later that day, and really, how perishable can something in cardboard box be that it cannot wait in room temperatures for a few hours? (Did I mention that I was horrible with math and science in school?) However as I am walking passed the legal assistant for said recipient, I am stopped and escorted to the kitchen where the box is SUPPOSED to go. Apparently SOME people already knew this box was arriving.

“This needs to go in the freezer.” She tells me “Lets make some room.” And of course she wanted me to do it… it was NOT going to be a team effort. I rearranged all of TV dinners that were in the freezer (seriously that was all that was in there) and made all kinds of room on the one shelf, but still there was not enough room in the freezer.

“Let’s unpack the box and put them in the freezer separately, that way it will all fit” she suggests (she is also brilliant) and I figure, I don’t really have a better idea… so I rip the box open to find a layer of Styrofoam… interesting… by now she decides that she wants to… ‘help’ so she lifts the sheet of Styrofoam up and SCREAMS. Which in turn made me drop the sharp scissors I was holding, and of course wonder out loud “WHAT THE F**K?”

“KELP? That’s why you screamed?”

“I wasn’t expecting to see kelp… it was a little unexpected” which, I hate to say was the truth… I wouldn’t have guessed that either. Along with the layers upon layers of Kelp where a few bags of clams (I assumed… I’m not big into marine life) so we decided that we would take the bags of clams, put them in zip lock bags, and then put THOSE in the freezer. Around the third bag we figure we have to dig deeper into the kelp to get the rest of the contents of the box. So, I go a little deeper and notice a banded claw.

Yay. Dead lobster. At least… I thought. So not really thinking twice about it I turn to her and said “I think there are some lobsters in here… don’t freak out” I turn back around… the lobsters that I thought were dead, are in fact, very much alive and over was trying to scurry backward out of the box. Cue shenanigans. It was my turn to squeal!

What the hell!? Who sends live lobsters via UPS in a BOX and not expect… well… what happened to happen!?!

So, a oh so helpful attorney (note sarcasm) came bounding into the kitchen with a Dudley Dooright grin all over his face

“These lobsters are alive!” I shouted to him.

“Well of course they are alive!”

“…Well I didn’t know that”

Then Captain DB decides to wax poetically about his first job, which was banding lobsters on a fishing boat in the atlantic… “if there is one thing I know, it’s shellfish. Kyle let me tell you, you never want to cook dead shellfish, it should always be alive…”

At this point, I walk away while he is talking. I have other crazy things to take care of.

Clearly the most sensible thing to do at this junction in the adventure is to replace everything, seal it back up, and place it out of the sun in the person’s office… which is what I was trying to do in the first place.

Happy "Are you effing kidding me?" Thursday!

2010-05-06T10:35:00.000-07:00

The high occurrence of caller/walk-in idiocy today is going to make me insane. An interviewee who drove here from Orange County got here an HOUR early for her appointment. And instead of hitting up a coffee shop or perhaps a park to kill some time, she came in and waited here for a half an hour doing NOTHING. Nothing but staring into space and shuffling papers in her fancy folder. Thank god our HR Director was able to come get her early.

Then I had a DHL guy get all snippy with me about picking something up when I told him he had to go to Shipping & Receiving. Listen, Buddy, all you have to do is drive around to the BACK of the building. Don't you see the frickin signs that say "Shipping & Receiving >>>" at every driveway? These people, I swear.

And I just had a guy call for the HR Director all concerned that her phone was going straight to voice mail. "Is she IN????" he asked desperately. Dude, she is in a meeting, so she has her phone on Do Not Disturb. Why do people always assume that voicemail automatically means "out"?

Remind me not to take sick days in the middle of the week. Coming back with 2 whole days left SUCKS.

Mr. Jackson Strikes Again

2010-04-16T11:08:00.000-07:00

Can I just begin with a little message to all you assholes off the world? You SUCK. Eat shit and die.

Ok, I feel a little better.

Do you remember Mr. Jackson from the Ups And Downs post, who paid for 2 stamps with a $20? Well, he came back today. He wanted change for a $5. When I looked in my petty cash box, I only have 6 or 7 $1's. So I told him "Sorry, I can't, I don't have enough $1's", partially because it was true, and partially because HE'S AN ASSHOLE. He responded with a smug shake of his head, "Well, don't you have any quarters?" I let out a deep sigh and said "Yeah, ok." I would've given him ALL quarters, but I'm pretty low on those, too. He smiles his hideous, smug, I-got-what-I-wanted smile, and walks away saying "Saves me a trip upstairs."
"Excuse me?"
"Saves me a trip upstairs to get change." (The main petty cash box is upstairs in the finance department.)
"Yeah, but now I have to go upstairs." (Keep in mind that I'm not allowed to wander the building at my leisure, I have to coordinate every trip upstairs with Cal, either asking him to run my errand for me, or dragging out my breaks a little, keeping him from his work.)
"Oh well!" He giggles to himself as he counts his $1's and walks off.

It took everything in me not to scream, and I'm still having trouble fighting it off now. I have no problem giving change if I am able to, but sometimes I can't, and everyone else is fine with going upstairs in that event. But when you look down your bulbous, troll-like nose at me, Mr. Jackson, and smile at my stress, believe me, I will get my vengeance. At the very least, I am NEVER giving him change again. Even if I have to lie and say, "I was told I wasn't allowed to just exchange large bills anymore." (And I essentially was told that, even if it was more like "Psh, don't do that. Send them upstairs! They know better.")

I can't wait to go to my car so I can call SOMEONE and scream about this. What a goddamn prick.

Oh yeah, duh. Somebody owes somebody an apology.

2010-03-29T16:14:00.000-07:00

I keep meaning to apologize for the huge gap in posts. At my old job, where none of the internet was blocked, I could write effusively in the midst of a Rage Blackout with little to no imposition. At this new place, Blogger was blocked, sadly, so I was having to skirt my way around the internet limitations by writing my posts in Google Docs, and then adding them to Blogger later. But for one, it's just not the same. For two, by the time I got home to sit my fat butt on the couch and watch my recordings of Mercy, Chelsea Lately, and the Biggest Loser, the last thing I wanted to do was stare at the computer for even 15 minutes to move the Google Doc into Blogger.

But, something momentous happened. I was checking my email randomly a few weeks ago, and the images on an email from Twitter were actually showing up. (Twitter was one of the blocked sites, obvi.) So I clicked the link, and was taken straight to the login page of Twitter. My next stop, obviously, was Facebook, and HUZZAH! It worked!! Well, partially. Something still blocks FB chat and Sorority Life (a travesty, I know!) from functioning, and I can't upload photos or crop out new profile pics, but most everything else is fair game.

I checked Blogger as well, via my FAVE blog and partial Rage inspiration, Working Girl, but I was so used to no longer having a Rage Blackout outlet at work, that I kept forgetting I could blog again. But never fear, peeps, I'm back!! And I'm armed with lots of new stories and more friends.

As I mentioned in my first comeback entry, I have a new fellow Receptionist who I exchange emails with regularly. She's my bestie and just moved back to California after a long hiatus in the icky-horrid-job-market of relatively-rural Colorado. She'll be known as "Pearl", and I'll probably refer to her on a regular basis. Who knows, maybe she'll want to write a guest post or two.

The other major roadblock to my continued blogging is that I am no longer single! Wee!! After nearly of year of ridiculously casual dating and more than a few "misses", I finally hit a bulls-eye with "Peter". He's sweet and cuddly and just as over-eager and clingy as I am, and we share a strange random affinity for fleur-de-lis, astrology, and tattoos. I guess the last one isn't really strange or random, considering our generation's general inclination to be inked...Did I mention he loves taking me to lunch when he gets off work early or has a long lunch break? What a sweetie!

Anywho, Pearl and Peter will be probably be frequently mentioned from now on, since they are usually the first receptors of my rages, before I bring them to you. Especially Pearl. She and I tend to keep our insanity in check.

I am the Gatekeeper of the Fortress of Purchasing Protection, you shall. Not. PASS!

2010-03-29T14:43:00.000-07:00

Here we are again, Monday. And not just any Monday, but the Monday that marks the end of my 6th month here. According to my good buddy Cal, a few people upstairs were promoted from Temporary to Permanent after 6 months with the company, so I'm crossing my fingers that I'll get some news like that in the next week or two. Not only getting away from my *horrid* staffing agency that takes a third of my paycheck, but benefits would be amazing. In 2 weeks I'll be turning 23 and I'll be getting kicked off my parent's insurance. My mom said they would pay for me to continue under the COBRA benefits, but since it's really expensive and I'm already living there rent-free, I'm really not looking forward to the added burden.

In lighter news, I got word today that one of my (few, normal) coworkers (that I actually like) got a little bit of a promotion. Let's call her "Patty". She actually talks to me when she comes to the lobby and gives me first dibs on all of the goofy samples and free gifts she gets. Because she works in the Purchasing department, sales reps are always giving her free promotional junk to get her to buy stuff from them. Seriously weird stuff from seriously weird people. Smuckers hot fudge? This guy is really going to open up his laptop and make sales calls from the lobby?

I have really come to admire the people that work in Purchasing. They have to meet with and talk to annoying, greasy, schmoozy sales reps all the time who I can barely stand talking to for 5 minutes while I wait for Patty or one of the other purchasing buyers to come down and meet with them. They also get lots of cold calls and random drop-ins, and dealing with the latter is the most work but also the most satisfying. Essentially, I get to tell them to piss off, since an appointment is required to meet with any of our buyers, to avoid these annoying nut-jobs. Of course, I don't actually get to say "Piss off", which would probably make things a lot easier, and this is where things get sticky. (And by sticky I mean with their copious amounts of disgusting and unattractive hair gel.) As we all know from dealing with car salesmen, telemarketers, and anyone else who works on commission, these people are pretty...uh..."persistent". They pepper me with questions about how many people work here, what Patty or the other buyers' extensions or emails are, and "Is this the product you sell? You don't manufacture here, do you?" More often than not they are working in pairs, so I have four hungry eyes (or sometimes two hungry eyes and two pleading eyes, if the latter pair belong to a trainee) searching and dissecting me for fissures and weaknesses in my Fortress of Purchasing Protection. I feel like Gandalf every time they retreat out the door again in defeat. Then I reach quickly for the hand sanitizer because just talking to them makes me feel like I have cooties scampering all over my skin. Yuckth.

Oh, speaking of hand sanitizer, being the receptionist with a cold is no fun. I feel like a rat during the Bubonic Plague. Thank God I am quarantined to the front lobby, all alone. :(

Kill Me. Kill Me Now.

2010-03-19T11:22:00.000-07:00

This lady that just came in is a Hot. Mess.

First of all, she is hobbling in here in crutches with a whole laptop bag and this huge brace on her left knee. I had to run around and help her even get in the front door, cause it's so heavy. She compliments my shoes (the peep-toe booties with the zippers and stuff on them that I bought for V-day) and then she tells me she's here to see a guy in our office, but she pronounces the name wrong. I could probably forgive that on any other occasion, people butcher the shiz out of people's names all the time, but I've seen this woman before. She came in sans appointment (and knee brace) a couple of weeks ago trying to "get a moment" with Tod*. And then she goes into this whole story about how she's supposed to have had the meeting at "10:15, well, 10:30" but then she got a late start (probs her gimpy leg) and went on and on about how tried Tod's cell multiple times, and "he just wouldn't answer!" As if all he does all day is field calls from people--this dude isn't even a VP and he's running like 3 or 4 departments right now.
So I'm like "Ok, ma'am, hold on" so I can call Tod's extension, and then possibly his assistant. And OF COURSE she's one of those over-the-counter peerers, trying to watch everything I'm bloody doing, talking to me WHILE I'M MAKING THE PHONE CALL about how he wasn't answering his cell phone, so maybe I should call someone who sits next to him.
For one, Lady, I'm on the f*cking phone. Back up for like 30 seconds. Second, I have no idea where Tod's office is in these two ginormous buildings, let alone who sits next to him, for Chrissake. Third, Tod is not some cubicle-bound moron, he's the Director of Operations on top of at least two other departments that he's managing temporarily while we look for someone to replace the former directors.
And this whole time she's bloody peering, which makes me absolutely INSANE. When Tod's extension went to voice mail--like it almost ALWAYS does--she comments AGAIN about how he wasn't answering his cell phone, blah blah blah. I keep my homicidal** urges to myself long enough to get on the phone with his assistant, who--praise Jesus--answers in the 2nd ring and says she'll go track him down.

Then, we wait.

Probably 10 minutes pass til the assistant comes out to tell this lady they'll have to reschedule again. They chit-chatted about knee injuries (and gag-me-with-a-spoon,I'm-only-halfway-through-my-ep-of-Marriage-Ref,will-you-please-move-it-along?). And wouldn't you know it? This lady is STILL sitting here on her laptop after the assistant has left, and THEN--sweet merciful heaven, give me strength--she ask to see our accounts payable manager "if he has a moment" (I'm really learning to DESPISE that phrase.) He's been out all week, so I don't actually have to do anything, but its that look on her face like "aw shucks". Makes me want to kick a puppy or something. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....

This is mostly copy-pasted from an email to a fellow Receptionist, not 30 seconds after sending it, I had to send the following:

OMG SHE JUST ASKED FOR THE ASSISTANT AGAIN WTFF JUST LEAVE LADY I'M SICK OF YOU

"I swear this leg thing has affected my brain! Haha Or at least its a good excuse, right? hahaha"

AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I hope your Fridays are going well. Boooooooo...

*Name changed, because, lets face it, I don't wanna get fired.
**I tried to spell that "homocidal"...I love The Gays that much.

Ups and Downs

2009-11-04T20:55:00.000-08:00

[written 10/22]

I have discovered a new target of Receptionist Rage today. "Mr. Jackson" paid me for 2 stamps (88 cents) with a $20 bill and couldn't have been any less unapologetic about taking the rest of my paper change--18 one-dollar-bills--as well as a dollar in quarters, and 12 cents. I'm left with two 20's and more nickels than I know what to do with. If someone comes to pay with a 5, they're getting $4 in quarters. "Mr. Jackson" is officially on my shit list with "Mr. Refund", aka "Mr. I Have A Full Time Job, But I Want My 75 Cents Back" (see "Already?").

Other than that, this Thursday has been fabulous. One of my bosses brought the box of donuts down so I could pick one, since I'm stuck at this desk normally and don't get upstairs where they keep all the goodies, it seems. And "Cal" is going to bring me more freebies from upstairs, a yo-yo and a stressball. It's almost lunch time, and I can't wait to walk down to the little park I discovered yesterday next to our local YMCA. I have discovered a new appreciation for enjoying the outdoors for my little midday break, especially in the last few warm days of the fall.

Raging Receptionist Tip of the Day: Get OUTSIDE for your lunch break!! Get some B vitamins!

Happy Thursday everybody!!

More Gold Stars...Less Hot Guys

2009-10-14T19:21:00.000-07:00

So yesterday, I knocked the socks off the head of the accounting department. Literally rendered her speechless. Not only did I have a witness, but this woman that runs accounting is probably one of my most intimidating superiors. She's really buddy-buddy with "Gwen"/Hot Accounting Guy and she's pretty serious most of the time.

So when she calls to ask me about how the mail is being sorted, I barely believed it when I spit out something to the effect of, "Well, it looks like stuff down here was pretty unorganized before. Could you send me an email with the list of all the mail items that always go to you? This is really our chance to reorganize and make sure things are done correctly from here on out."*

*But imagine it sounding like the most beautiful sentence you've ever heard, it was insane.

My coworker "Cal"* stared at me, mouth gaping. I'm pretty sure my eyes were bugging out, I was shocked, too. It took the head of accounting a few seconds to regain her train of thought, and respond, "Yeah, uh, ok. That- that sounds great. I'll send that right over."

*An old high school classmate--yes, I got him the job, because I rock ;)--so named because he just graduated from Berkeley

I thanked her and hung up the phone. I stared at "Cal" with my mouth open, and he mirrored my expression. "Uh, sorry but...GOLD STAR FOR ME!!" He answered, "Yeah! I wasn't gonna say anything, but yeah!"

Basically, we rock.

In other, less exciting news, I also learned a few days ago that Hot Tech Support Guy has a girlfriend. SAD. DAY. In even sadder news, it's not even like I could make it into some kind of fun challenge, because in the same breath that he told me about his girlfriend, he told me she had done a double major in Woman's Studies and [something that I don't remember because he definitely stunned me with the line about the girlfriend] and was now getting her Master's. Basically she's me, but not, particularly in the man department. So he is hereby removed from The List and re-nicknamed "Cool Tech Support Buddy". Now I have more time to spend on "Gwenny" ;V

"Somebody's got a case of the Mondays!"

2009-10-14T19:19:00.000-07:00

[Written October 5]

Big exciting day at work today! And by "big exciting" I mean "stressful" and then "boring as hell".

It all started last night, when I suddenly realized that my time card--which I needed to fax to my staffing agency by noon today--was somewhere at home... And I am house sitting 30 miles away. I had to get up an hour earlier than usual so I had enough time to get ready, drive home, get gas, and have enough time to search for the time card in case it wasn't in someplace logical. The 'getting gas' part of that was also extremely crucial. I always get Chevron, I'm a bit of a brand whore about it. If all I had to do was go to work, it would've been no big deal--there's a Chevron station on my way to the freeway. On my way home, however, there is nothing. So I am praying I'll make it to the Chevron station an exit away from my house the entire 25-minute drive home. I don't think I've ever driven so cautiously in my life.

Thankfully, my time card was easily recovered and I even had time to take my chipped-and-ugly black nail polish off. In celebration of the fact that I am officially caught up with the newest episodes of Mad Men, I wore a super cute Joan-style gray dress today. Obviously, Joan would never be caught dead wearing gray, but the cut is totally her! I'm just the modern American version of her. Hooray!

When I do get to work, I have absolutely nothing to do after I've faxed my time card. But despite the boredom, the afternoon has been somewhat productive in the Man Dept.

Ok, people, not that I am advocating office romances or just generally being a major slut-slut and flirting with every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the office, there is nothing wrong with choosing one or two (or even three, depending on the size of your company) cute co-workers with which to engage in witty banter with and bat eyelashes at. After last week I have two front-runners and a third who I am still assessing (read: I keep forgetting to check his hand for a wedding band and he is somewhat awkward in the interpersonal-relations department). I have described them as vaguely as possible (most favorite to least favorite) below.

Candidate Numero Uno...

Nickname: "Jax", so named because of his slight resemblance to the (adorable) main character of Sons of Anarchy, and the fact that he definitely rides a motorcycle (crotch-rocket or Harley-style is yet-to-be-determined)
Early Interactions: "Jax" works in Tech Support, and I met him on my first day. He is very nice and a little goofy-looking, but anyone who knows the physical attributes of my past beaus knows I like them a little on the goofy side! As I once told my mother and aunt, who tried to set me up with the former's super-metro/possibly-gay trainer, "I refuse to date any man who is prettier than me--my ego can't handle that!" On my third day he came down on his way out of the office to check up on me--and he had a motorcycle helmet in his hand. Yum. :)
Today's Developments: After a short and friendly chat on the company email/instant messaging program in the early afternoon, he came downstairs to say Hello and ask how I was doing. He told me how busy he is (60 Tech Support calls today!), and I told him how bored I was and that if he had any clerical/busy work, I would gladly do it. But he didn't really have any of that, he said. His goatee was gone and he was wearing slacks and a button down, upping his attractiveness factor significantly (although detracting somewhat from his similarity to Jax Teller). I turned around and promoted conversation as long as possible.

Candidate Numero Dos...

Nickname: "Victor", named in honor of the hot FedEx guy from my other job (although "Victor" has got nothing on Victor, looks-wise).
Early Interactions: When he came in to pick up our outgoing packages on my first full day of work, we hit it off right away. He basically comes by to hang out with me for 10 to 15 minutes every afternoon. I crack him up the whole time.
Reality Check: Ok, so maybe he's not a serious candidate for dating, but he seems pretty cool. Definitely Guy Friend material. I definitely look forward to his visits as a way to wrap up the end of the day.

Candidate Numero Tres...

Nickname: "Gwen", after Gwen Stefani, which I called him after he told me that he was screening his calls. "Spiderwebs", anybody? Sorry, I'm a huge No Doubt fan. I may also refer to him simply as "Hot Accounting Guy".
Early Interactions: I go through the mail, open, date-stamp, and sort all the incoming invoices. I then hand them off to "Gwen" because he is the supervisor of Accounts Payable. Thus, daily interaction and lots of chances to work my lady-like charms. ;V
Today's Developments: One of the women in HR mentioned that she's never seen "Gwen" joke around with anyone ( you know accountants, always so serious and usually a little socially awkward :P). Part of it may also be his extremely dry, sarcastic sense of humor. I get the sense that he could probably keep a straight face through almost anything. I am gifted with an ability to appeal to many types of humor, so as soon as I made it obvious that I understood his humor, I was "in".
Reality Check: He is older and as attractive as that is, it also distinctly raises the probability that he is in a relationship--or there is something fundamentally wrong with him, hahahaha.

"You get a gold star by your name today."

2009-10-14T19:16:00.000-07:00

[Written on October 2]

Well, first things first, let me just say--T.G.I.F., and I've only been here for 3 full days! After all the welcome-to-the-company work, I've hit a little bit of a low in work. So what do I do? Surf the net. What about when I get bored of that? Coordinate my planner and my Google Calendar. Check my bank account online. But that doesn't really keep me busy for that long (I have no money and I have no plans). Then I make lists of things I'm gonna need when I get some money (new shoes, snacks for work, that eyeshadow I'm running low on). Still bored and it's only 2:45. Reorganize my desk twenty times. Add "cup for pens" to shopping list and "photo collage for desktop" to to-do list. Look up a store that I have a gift card to and print a map of the location so I can go tomorrow after I go swimming. Check pool hours for the third time in 18 hours. Window-shop online for things I can't afford for at least a couple weeks.

When I get SO bored that I think I'm getting a headache, I finally get my afternoon 15-minute break. And the first real sign of fall is here--the humid drizzle that falls in San Diego during September/October--and I am pretty depressed. I love the sun, the heat, and the general almost-naked-ness that happens from March to September. So when I starting using my heater when I leave for work in the morning and worry in the back of my mind about rain-proof shoes, my general mood level takes a downturn.

The only things I like about Fall/Winter are:

Christmas. Duh, especially since I realized what an even greater joy it is to give than to receive, as cliche as it sounds. But then it still might be vanity in that I pride myself on getting as personal and unique a gift I can think of (often my own artwork!)
I don't have to wash my car as often. The only good thing about rain. Oh you know and it helps the "Erf".
Grandma's birthday and the birthdays of my friends Lawyer Lady*, Princess*, and Pinky*. Similar to reasons given for Christmas.

*Names changed to protect the innocent.

Yeah. I'm pretty sure that's it. If I think of something else I'll let you know. But now it's a quarter 'til Quittin Time and I have things to do, dates to change.

Already?

2009-10-01T23:29:00.000-07:00

Right at the beginning of my second full day and I have one small thing to be annoyed with. Maybe it's just Mr. Upstairs reminding me that the human race he created is inherently flawed. And for those reading, remember that people new to your office are NEW, meaning they have no idea where anything is or what the different rooms are called, so please be as specific as possible, even if it borders on mundane.

One of my duties is to be in charge of the vending machines, call the snack/drink company when machines break, refund money that the machine eats, etc. Now let me tell you, going to the high school I did, if the Coke machine ate your money, you were S.O.L. and Coke was $1.25 richer. And when you get $5 for lunch, that a pretty big chunk to waste. So when grown adults with full-time jobs come to me for a 75-cent refund, I can't help but be a little annoyed. Then, of course, they want the machine(s) fixed. I have no problem calling the company to have a repairman come out, but I need the location of the machine and the type of machine it is. When I call the snack company, they have room numbers for the different machines, and my quarter-hungry co-workers have only given me the arbitrary room names. So I send an email to the two people that had problems with the machines. "The people doing the repairs need to know what kind of machine (snack or soda) is broken and where it is (Building A or B and room number)."

And what emails do I get back this morning? You guessed it, the same worthless information that they'd already told me. Room names and no specifics on what kind of machine was malfunctioning. Nothing even acknowledging that I asked for a room number (such as "the rooms aren't labeled with number, Stupid New Girl, we just know them how they're named" or "I'm not sure about the number, let me check and get back to you). And you can bet your sweet a$$ I am not using my 15 minute breaks to go hunt down this information. Maybe during lunch, but then I have no idea where the Production Dept. is, let alone it's break room.

*Woooo-saaaaaah*

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It's Back To Work I Go!!

2009-10-01T23:18:00.000-07:00

[Written September 30 on Google Docs]

Hooray! I got me a new job! And it's as a receptionist still, so I don't have to change the name of this blog. Without getting too specific, I can tell you a little bit about the new company I work for.

First of all, it's FRIGGIN HUGE! Well, technically the office I work at is only about 150 people, but they are spread out across 2 ginormous buildings and I am all alone in the front lobby. The last two places I was a receptionist at had no more than 50 people in the office, and especially at the last place, I had a ton of interaction with my coworkers. My tasks so far include very little interpersonal relations. I think once I get an email account things will pick up.

The company has at least one more office in California and presumably offices on the east coast as well. My next task is to read up on the company in the little booklet they gave me. They sell their products and services to companies across the country, so it's a pretty big deal. Between the two buildings there is product assembly, sales, accounts, tech support, accounts, and all the other business necessities: president/CEO, HR, etc. And there are break rooms with vending machines everywhere. I'm pretty excited to see what lunch is like, and meet some people.

I'm pretty stoked because it seems like they are not that dependent on their phone system. I'm allowed to leave the desk to use the restroom at my leisure, I don't have to get someone to cover or worry about the calls not getting picked up. My boss even told me that I could wander around today and meet people. Weird. Cool, but weird. I'm used to being the hub of activity. In the hour-and-a-half that I was answering the phones on my own yesterday, I got three calls, and one of them was from my boss checking on me.

I should probably tell you how I got the job in the first place, huh? Well I was just getting into my usual routine yesterday afternoon (wake up at 10:30, maybe eat something by noon, watch a few episodes of Mad Men...) and I got a phone call around 1pm. It was one of my staffing agencies (my favorite of the three I'm signed up with, actually) letting me know that they had a position I might be interested in, a receptionist, where it was, good pay, etc. Then she said, "But they need you this afternoon. What time do you think you can be there?" First of all, I wasn't super familiar with the part of the county she mentioned, and I still had to shower and put myself together. "Uh...2:00 or a little after?"

"Ok I'll call and check with them and then I'll call you right back." As soon as I hung up the phone, I scrambled into my room, hunting for an outfit. I haven't been to work in almost two months and I had completely forgotten what I used to wear. Not to mention I have no idea how "professional" I'd need to look. Having watched Mad Men obsessively for the past couple weeks, I settled on a dress and pumps. (I also made a mental note to buy a few more dresses because Peggy and Joan are so adorable!) Within minutes I got another call, confirming that 2:00/2:30 would be just fine. Staffing Agency Lady would send me an email with the company address and the name of the woman in HR that I would be asking for. I ran into the bathroom, bouncing off the walls as much as possible to relieve my nervous energy. I know how I can get, and I don't need to showing up to this place acting like a total spaz.

I was out the door by twenty til and the lack of traffic at 2pm meant I could do a little bit of speeding, another stress-reliever. Once I got here, I was relieved to see the dress was a little more relaxed like my last company. I came into a pretty unsettled situation, not awkward-unsettled, but it seemed they just needed to stop, breathe, and get their heads on straight. I don't think my predecessor left the company in a positive way. *Irregardless*, I got a good vibe from the woman training me (she was the receptionist a few years back, and has since advanced through the company) and it seems to be a positive working environment. I also noticed lots of diversity in ethnicities, always a positive thing to see in a company. I later read in their Welcome booklet that diversity is an important value of the company culture. Always a good thing to hear!

So now I am learning more of the ropes. And I got my sweet little name badge that also allows access to the building 24/7...so I can actually get here a few minutes early tomorrow and get myself situated.

Long Time, No Work.

2009-09-15T00:41:00.000-07:00

Uggggggghhhhhh...

So I am out of a job. My temporary position ended over a month ago, and still no luck in the job market. I've had a few interviews at staffing agencies, but that still only gets me halfway there. So in the meantime, I am essentially my mom's overpaid, live-in maid and personal assistant, with a part-time maid position with my aunt and uncle. And if I could make any money at painting t-shirts, I would be self-employed. As much as I raged about being a receptionist, I am sending my resume to every open receptionist position within a 35-minute commute range and missing my old job like crazy. The rapidly dissapating savings account may have a great deal to do with that! I suppose it would not be disappearing so quickly if not for that wonderful thing we call alcohol...

Which reminds me, I am also missing school. Where the hell did August go?!?! All of a sudden it's Labor Day and my Facebook page is all a-buzz with my younger counterparts' planning the usual reunion binge-drinking back-to-school celebrations. Three months ago you probably could have BARELY bribed me with $1 million to go right into grad school, but now I am actually excited just to APPLY. It might also have a lot to do with my friend being in law school--she is so happy and excited about the material, I am totally jealous. Grad school sounds great right now.

But for now, I am staying up and sleeping in. Emailing my resume to every want-ad on Craig's List for "Receptionist. Cleaning house and grocery shopping for my mom. Nephew-sitting on Friday mornings and going swimming when I am feeling exceptionally lazy.

All in all, its a decent life. I need to remind myself that although I am unemployed, I need to be grateful for a supportive family who provides the roof over my head and the food on my plate. Unlike many of those who are unemployed across the country, I have been blessed with the opportunity to earn my bachelor's degree and to continue beyond that.

Good luck to everyone looking for a job right now!! (Including ME!)

Let's Play 20 Questions

2009-07-27T14:59:00.000-07:00

On second thought, I'd rather die. Unfortunately, as a receptionist, 20 Questions is a game you will inevitably play over and over during your incarceration. This is because the "smart" people that you work for will believe that you either know as much about the project as they do, and therefore should be able to do their little assignment by simply snapping your fingers, or that you have the ability to read minds no matter what distance you are from them. Of course, neither is true.

The last game of 20 Questions I played was with a guy who reminds me of Rain Man, so his nickname will be Ray. I have been making coffee back in the kitchen (a task I loathe), and when I returned to my desk, Ray was bee-lining towards it from the other directed with a stack of paper in his hand. "You weren't at your desk, so I was just going to leave this for you." "This" was a stack of 2 documents, an Overnight Express shipping recepit, and a post-it stuck to the top with a note from Ray, simply stating:

Receptionist--
Can you send these out? Project Numbers 1001 and 1002. Thanks.
--Ray

Yeah, thanks Ray. Now because you didn't fill out our handy-dandy, "no need to clarify 99% of the time" transmittal forms, it's time to play 20 Questions before you leave the office for a meeting that will last for probably over two hours. Remind yourself that I am talking to Rain Main Incarnate, so there is lots of stuttering and pausing...
Me: "There are two project numbers...do you want one transmittal with both numbers on it or two separate transmittals?"
Ray: "Uhhh...uh, y-yeah... Two transmittals, so we can have them in each of the files." (Because I can't just make one transmittal with both numbers and save it in both folders? Goody, more work for me.)
Me: "Ok, and what exactly are these documents? What am I sending?"
Ray: "Oh, it's right here [flips through to the first page of the document, reads off the title]."
Me: "And is there just one of each?"
Ray: "Uhhh...Uh, yeah..."
Me: "And is this [points to Overnight Express receipt return address] who I'm sending it to?"
Ray: "Uhhh...No! No! Not this person... This address, but send it to Bob Smith at this address. That person is probably just some secretary or something." (Uh, yeah, cause I'm just the receptionist...or something...I am getting even more excited to procrastinate as much as possible on this for you, Sir.)
Then, having run out of patience after only four questions and finally being overwhelmed by the nervous energy flowing from Ray's incessant moving and anxiety to leave for his meeting, I say "Ok" and settle into my task.

Barely five minutes into the first transmittal, I realize that I have forgotten to ask perhaps the second most important question of 20 Questions: Transmittal Edition--"How do you want this sent--what service, how fast?" Sh*t, I say to myself. Well, its the perfect excuse to procrastinate. If he had just filled out the transmittal form, this would've been done in minutes.

Having Ray out of the office means two things will happen: I will have more, unpressured time to complete transmittals and other little things for him. Thumbs up. But I will also have to field at least three calls from his cell phone, asking frantically for someone as if it were a life and death matter. Because Ray is just like his cinematic counterpart and has trouble with normal human interaction, all of his calls sound like this:
Me: "Good morning/afternoon, Company Name."
Ray: "Hi Receptionist, this is Ray."
Me: "Hi Ray!"
Ray: [awkward pause where Ray sometimes sounds as if he is choking on air] "Oh, Hi... C-can I talk to, uh, This Person?"
While I was twiddling my thumbs with nothing else to do but practice my mind-reading skills, I was lucky enough to receive one of these calls from Ray. But the add to the awkwardness, I snuck in my question after he had asked for This Person. And his answer was only too annoying: "Oh...uh...uhhh...whatever, I guess." "Does it need to be there quickly or does it not matter?" "Uhh...uh...it doesn't really matter, I guess." I can hear in his voice that we wants to get off the phone with me and back to This Person as soon as humanly possible.

I need to write about 20 Questions With Phone Calls, but I am suffering from a slight case of postprandial hypoglycemia and must find out a way to nap at my desk.

A Little Road Rage...

2009-07-27T08:35:00.000-07:00

If you think my receptionist rage is bad, you should see my road rage, yet the commute is probably my favorite part of the whole day. I am all by myself, I can listen to my favorite music, sing at the top of my lungs, and play the same song 15 times if I want to. And I just like driving.

As an avid lover of driving, I also believe that your car says a lot about you, even if its some junker your parents bought for you when they were finally sick of driving you to soccer practice. So on the daily commute I look around at the various stickers, personalized license plates and even license plate frames. It was the latter that sent me on a mini-rage last week.

On this particularly normal day, I noticed a dark blue CR-V or something that was slightly annoying me with its numerous lane changes on an already frustrating ramp from the 94 west to the 5 north. When she settled on the right lane and inched ahead of me, her rear license plate frame (LPF) attracted my attention for whatever reason.

Ok so its not really that big of a deal, but look at those palm trees. Just look at them! Ew. They look like f*cked up marijuana leaves or something. Plus, EVERYONE who thinks they are all cool and Southern Californian have this stupid LPF. She's probably some import from Arizona or the midwest and still calls it "Cali" when she goes home to visit the parentals for Turkey Day. *shiver* (Nothing makes me more nauseous that people calling California "Cali".)

This would also have been a non-event had I not seen another more enraging LPF. This time, the offender was a Mercedes, so you know that mofo has got enough money to get a decent LPF if he wanted it. But no, it was one of those freebie "I'd rather be..." LPF's from Sport Chalet. As your car is an expression of your personality, I was also willing to accept that Mercedes Driver would "rather be cycling", since I have my own that says "I'd rather be swimming." (The veracity of that statement is debatable, but that is for another post.) But this guy had actually taken the time to use a black magic marker to color over "Chalet"...LIKE WE DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS FROM THERE!! Seriously?? You are not ABOVE Sport Chalet, dude, if you are just going to Sharpie out the second word. Plus, you can still see 'CHALET' under the purple-black sheen of the marker ink against the solid black plastic behind it. But really, you drive a Mercedes, get one of your flunkies to go online and order you a personalized LPF that simply says "I'd rather be cycling" if you have so much against Sport Chalet. Come to think of it, he probably sent his flunkies to get that Sport Chalet LPF in the first place--God forbid he step foot in something as low-class as a sporting megastore!! Can someone please get this guy in a Wal-Mart, so he can see what low-class really like? Oy vey!!

Now its time to go eat my delicious sesame seed bagel and check out DListed.com for a while. I'm sure I'll be back later to post more; it feels like a slow Monday.

Welcome to my Personal Hell.

2009-07-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

Hi there. I'm a receptionist. How did I get here you ask? Shirley Chisholm has your answer: "The emotional, sexual, and psychological stereotyping of females begins when the doctor says, 'It's a girl.'" Enter me, April 14, 1987, shortly before 3 A.M.

I was 19 when I got my first real, taxes-and-a-paycheck job--as a receptionist. I had just finished my first year of college, and my mom got me a part-time gig at a law firm. Yeah, last time I ever do that shit. Lawyers are douchebags. Sorry, Lawyers of the World, but accept your fate and move on. You are an essential part of the Justice System and all that, but I will never work for you again. Some people like to be treated like garbage or The Invisible Woman, so I will let them take care of your spoiled asses.

I spent three months practically chained to the front desk, frantically answering 50 calls a minute and transcibing voicemail messages from cranky old men in the pre-Bluetooth days (which means horrific static and wind noise as clients left our lawyers messages while they barrelled down the freeway on their way from one fancy meeting to the next...I am convinced that I was forced to transcribe these not for legal records, but simply because the lawyers were too good to translate them themselves). I was utterly confused by the fact that I could not leave the desk at any time, but I still had to take the mail to every single lawyer's office. I was scolded on multiple occasions for not answering the phone fast enough, always because there were one or two cranky clients ahead of the third call which happened to be the biggest prick partner I've ever had the horrible luck to meet.

I hated it so much that I took the entire summer off after my sophomore year. I didn't have money but I had my sanity. The feeling of psuedo-poverty was stronger than the dread of being a receptionist again, however, because I went to work with my sister at an architectural firm while the office manager was on maternity leave and my sister (the receptionist) moved into her position temporarily. Although working with my sister was total bullshit because we practically hate each other, this was definitely an improvement on the lawyer situation. Apparently, people are capable of working in an office and being nice at the same time. Wow!!! It's not perfect, but I'll get to that later.

My sister got pregnant in the early fall, so by the time I graduated, I had a nephew (who, although he was an accident, is still fucking adorable and totally awesome ;) and a temporary job at the same place I'd worked the previous summer. Considering this horrific economy, I had majorly scored and staved off unemployment at least for two and a half months. And although I was no longer working with my sister (hooray!), I was starting to get to the end of my rope with the job. Nothing a good rant or two can't fix.

Under pressure from my friends and a few of my coworkers, I have begun this blog as a way to publicly display my crazy rants...from commuting to conference calls.

Next post: License Plates and Less Is NOT More.

The Raging Receptionist

FYI: You suck at parking.

An Interesting Correlation

Day=MADE

Really?

**woooooooooooooooooooo!!!** (siren noise)

Me:"I always have these clients calling me saying, 'It's an emergency!'"Secretary: "'You have a lot of emergencies, sir.'"Me: "'You're LIFE is an emergency!'"

When In Rome

I sorta feel bad... [from a while back]

All work and no play makes TigerLily a dull girl. [from late July]

Guest Star: Pearl

Guest Star: Kyle

Happy "Are you effing kidding me?" Thursday!

Mr. Jackson Strikes Again

Oh yeah, duh. Somebody owes somebody an apology.

I am the Gatekeeper of the Fortress of Purchasing Protection, you shall. Not. PASS!

Kill Me. Kill Me Now.

Ups and Downs

More Gold Stars...Less Hot Guys

"Somebody's got a case of the Mondays!"

"You get a gold star by your name today."

Already?

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It's Back To Work I Go!!

Long Time, No Work.

Let's Play 20 Questions

A Little Road Rage...

Welcome to my Personal Hell.

woooooooooooooooooooo!!! (siren noise)

Me:"I always have these clients calling me saying, 'It's an emergency!'"
Secretary: "'You have a lot of emergencies, sir.'"
Me: "'You're LIFE is an emergency!'"