I used to get that, too, Toddson. My response inevitably boiled down to "Because it is physically impossible for me to put you through to them. I am actually not able to do it for reasons involving not being able to bend space/time to my will."

Then when they'd ask for cell numbers I'd respond: "I'm not at liberty to give those out."

If a tirade followed that I'd ask them for their cell number. When they said "I don't want to give that to you" I'd just sit on the phone silently and do other work waiting for the penny to drop.

So far it has been a very good birthday. Chocolate cake for breakfast at the cafe. then a trip to the local garden center for new garden gloves and plants for the little area next to the steps. My big plans for the day include reading, dvds and planting the new plants. no cleaning, or major work of any sort. maybe a walk. In other words, a day off.

I just had the exact opposite kind of call, the Chatty Cathy who is so burbling with wordswordswords and full of all sorts of gossipy tidbits about the issue s/he's calling about (except, say, the actual information that would allow you to do your fucking job) that it takes a good 5-10 minutes to hack through the language thicket and figure out (a) what s/he's calling about and (b) why s/he's calling you about it.

"La la la I'm a public health nurse calling about a little baby your doctor saw here a few weeks ago at the local hospital, la la la also followed by Dr. So-and-So, and we have concerns about --"

"What's the child's name?"

"--Concerns about the family situation, la la la, the mom, Janie, is only 15 years old and her birthdate is XX-XX-XX and so we had concerns about --"

"She's not in our database."

"Oh, no, she's never been seen. It's her baby!"

"WHAT. IS. THE. BABY'S. NAME."

"La la la Namecakes!"

"He's not in our database either. Do you have a birthdate?"

"Oh, his birthdate? It's XX-XX-XX."

"We have a La la la Othernamecakes with that birthdate in our database."

"Oh, yes, of course, the mommy and daddy have different last names and that's the daddy's name, yes. He's older than the mommy, and --"

"WHAT. DO. YOU. NEED."

"...Oh! Can I talk to your doctor?"

It's one thing to deal with a group of Buffistas or grad students or whatnot and feel like you've spent the last hour herding cats, but when you feel that way after a five-minute conversation with just one person? That's a gift. A gift of evil, but a gift.

In a job I had years ago, I was support staff and answered the phones. There were a couple of people who would call and insist on speaking to so-and-so immediately. They wouldn't understand that the person wasn't in the office, wasn't immediately reachable, and so no, they COULDN'T talk to them immediately. I'd get long tirades about how they HAD to speak to them right now and WHY couldn't they (this was before cell phones). Drove me crazy ... crazier.

All. The. Time.

"May I speak with [Coworker] please?"
transfers call

2 minutes later

"[Coworker] didn't answer!"
"Ok."
"..."

What would I call it? "No, Really, You Are An Asshole: Why Customer Service Reps Hate You. Hate You, Personally. Yes, YOU, Jackass!"

awesome.

I really want to program an ass-elbow recognition test. If you cannot pass, you cannot touch any system, or child, that I care about and/or am responsible for.

What would I call it? "No, Really, You Are An Asshole: Why Customer Service Reps Hate You. Hate You, Personally. Yes, YOU, Jackass!"

I would have to buy a gazillion copies and give them to people like my dad and my pseudo-sibling.

I, on the other hand, am considering taking up cross-stitch solely so I can create an embroidered sampler to hang in my office: "Read the style guide!" I'd be the envy of all the other editors.

totally, Jilli - I'm with you - but which style guide?? Chicago? Godforsaken GPO?

for the software side, I will join you in embroidery. A beautiful sampler with a large, red, sans-serif RTFM! spang in the center.

"May I speak with [Coworker] please?"

transfers call

2 minutes later

"[Coworker] didn't answer!"

"Ok."

Oh yes. I worked at a compeny that made me fill in for the receptionist during lunch hours. Cell phones were not common back then, and even the people who had cell phones generally didn't list them in the company directory or give them to the receptionist as a way to get ahold of them when any old jackass wanted to talk to them.

This happened all the time. They'd call for Soandso Buttcakes, I'd transfer them, they'd get Soandso's voice mail and transfer back to the switchboard to yell at me about how Soandso didn't answer, where the hell is he?

"I don't know, I guess he's not in his office."

"Well I need to talk to him!"

"I can let you leave a voice mail..."

"I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE A VOICE MAIL!"

"I can take a message myself...."

"I WANT TO TALK TO SOANDSO BUTTCAKES!"

"Your options are leave a voice mail or leave a message with me."

t strangled sounds of barely constrained rage

totally, Jilli - I'm with you - but which style guide??

Oh, the in-house one. Er, ones, actually. Only one of my writers ever checks the style guides before she comes and pesters me. She may have control issues and very few social skills, but she knows not to piss off her editor.

t work venting

In fact, the writer who is the biggest pain about not checking style guides is the one who used to be the editor for the team. She assumes she knows all the rules, and keeps forgetting that 1 -the style guides are occasionally updated; and 2 -because we got re-org'd last year, we've got a Brand! New! Divisional style guide to follow.

Remind me again why I went into tech editing? Oh right, the paycheck and lack of dress code.