Now, what’s that number again?

Filed under Memoirs of a Paralegal

Now that the spider fiasco of 2014 has subsided, I suppose it is time for me to actually do some work.  Time I lay my purse down, the phone rings.  Ring!  Now, I am the Paralegal.  The phone chain of command is my assistant, Salina Chavez.  Salina has been late so many times, with so many additional early check-outs, that we have stopped scheduling her by the hours and instead schedule her by the days.  So, as long as she gives me 6 hours a day, I could care less if she shows up before Dae-Dae’s bed time—I want my 6 hours.  She’s just so good.  I finally have someone trained who knows I like extra mayonnaise on my chicken salad sandwich.  I can’t let her go.  But, either way, Salina, then Mr. Howell, then me.  Ring! Not that I mind answering the phone, or that I am too good for phone-duty, my theory is that some of the calls need screening.  There is nothing Mr. Howell cannot handle on an average day-to-day basis.  I am the problem resolver.  That’s my lane.  I drive it daily, keeping my hands at 10-2 and watch my rearview and side mirrors for oncoming traffic.  Ring!  Now, it is almost like the phone is practically screaming my name.

“Howell, Howell, Keith and Knotch, this is Danni, I can help you.”  I’m rolling my eyes with a smile in my voice.

“Hallo,” the voice belts back.

“Good morning.  Howell, Howell, Keith and Knotch.  This is Danni, I can help you.”  By this time, I’m practically singing the lyrics to the one-hit wonder song “Howell, Howell, Keith and Knotch.”  By the “Hallo,” on the other end, I can already deem this conversation is not going to go as educated as I would like.

“Hallo! i’ Mi’ Hah’ll ther’?  the voice responds

OMG!  Amazing!  It has to be a gift to be able to speak without EVER ending any of your words.  Yet, I can vaguely decipher to whom the caller is referring.  I feel like a Facebook post—“if you can read this, you are brighter than 82% of the population.”

Um. Ms. (I stress the z in Ms.) How-well (and yes, I separated the two syllables) is not in at the moment, would you like to leave a message?” I know I could have spoken faster; Nope! Not today.

“Yeah, uhhhh…di’ Caretta Milla.  Can you tell ha to cawl me when she git een? Ma num’ fo oh fo…pause… se’n three fo…pause… nine eight sis fah.”

I can tell she is really struggling trying to remember her phone number. Is she looking it up on her phone?  I can’t take it.  So, I help her.  My pleasure, doll.  So that’s Coretta Miller at four zero four, se-Ven, three fouR, nine eight siX fiVeh?” My voice and diction teacher would be so proud of me right now.  I was catching a cramp in my mouth trying to pronounce every consonant and every vowel that had a voice.

“Yeah. Dank’ya.” Click.  The phone hangs up.

Interesting.  That didn’t sound like Coretta.

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