The Inane and the Broken and the Inane
(And by "inane" I mean "inane", not "insane", as I was once mis-corrected in a college paper.)
"Hi. I’m calling from Neuroscience. I called on Monday of last week and again yesterday about a picture that had fallen from the wall in my office. It was hung by its frame instead of by a hook."
"Yes, I was just closing the paperwork on that. Bruce and Martin were there yesterday and fixed it. (Empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation)."
"Ok." Full pause then, "I’m in my office right now and that picture is on the floor."
Uncertain mumble then, "Well, I will follow up on that, because as I said, the paperwork says it was done yesterday."
(You can assure me all you want that those men were in my office yesterday and re-mounted the picture, but each time I can look at my wall and see that it isn't so.)
Van Gogh’s Les Irises sits on the floor, leaning against the file cabinet, the broken latch on the top drawer of which I called about two months ago.
"Hi. I’m calling from Neuroscience. I called on Monday of last week and again yesterday about a picture that had fallen from the wall in my office. It was hung by its frame instead of by a hook."
"Yes, I was just closing the paperwork on that. Bruce and Martin were there yesterday and fixed it. (Empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation empty explanation)."
"Ok." Full pause then, "I’m in my office right now and that picture is on the floor."
Uncertain mumble then, "Well, I will follow up on that, because as I said, the paperwork says it was done yesterday."
(You can assure me all you want that those men were in my office yesterday and re-mounted the picture, but each time I can look at my wall and see that it isn't so.)
Van Gogh’s Les Irises sits on the floor, leaning against the file cabinet, the broken latch on the top drawer of which I called about two months ago.
2 Comments:
You should have said, "i have paper work saying that my foot is up yer ass."
maybe....
Hm. Perhaps I should have said that. Maybe today. Still nobody has come.
I just got an e-mail from a reviewer who, in response to my inquiry about his late review, said he faxed it three weeks ago. Nothing more, no "I'll send it again". Ok, well I still don't have it. What's up with this breed of people?
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