You know, taking a part-time receptionist job in a real estate office seemed like it would be easy, but that’s because I was assuming that people still have manners and that our instantaneous, multi-tasking mad society hadn’t rendered them all into blithering idiots in the space of just twenty years (the last time I was a receptionist).
Why the hell would you – a real estate agent from another office – call this office and say, “I got a call from your office, but I don’t know who called me.”
Duh. Neither do I, sister. There are 75 agents in this office, three loan agents, a branch vice-president, three receptionists, two office administrators and a nocturnal computer geek who shows up for five minutes once a week, crashes all the computers, and then goes home to play World of Warcraft.
If you don’t friggin’ know who you’re doing business with in this office, I sure as hell don’t.
Why would you dial a number and then say, “I got a voicemail message from this number, but I don’t know what it was about because I didn’t bother to listen to it.”
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes! That really happened!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was all, Whatty McWhat? Are you seriously calling ME to ask what the message is on YOUR voicemail? Because if you are, clearly you are not understanding how this voicemail thingy works, dude.
Or maybe you understand perfectly well how voicemail works but you are “too busy” to actually listen to yours? Clearly, you are angling to be the first up against the wall when the revolution comes. Because talk like that is going to get you there, and I will be happy to lead the firing squad.
And last but not least – Why would you call a real estate office while you are driving around in an unfamiliar area and say, “I saw a house with one of your signs on it and I’d like to make an appointment to see it. But I don’t know what street it’s on and I’m new around here so I’m not even entirely sure what town I’m in right now.”
Here’s a thought, Einstein. PARK THE DAMN CAR. Ask someone where you are. Get out and look at a street sign. Or if you are so high-tech that you can dial an unfamiliar number while driving, I bet you own a GPS. Click that button that says “My Location” or “Locate me.” GO ON, TRY IT!
Wow, isn’t that stupendous? Now you know where you are. Now you can say, “I’m interested in the house on Sputnik Street in Cowtown.”
Now I might be able to help you!
Although I suspect there is no help for you or any of the people I’ve talked to this week. I suspect we’re all just becoming plugged-in cogs in The Matrix, incapable of rational thought, deliberate decision-making skills, and simple common sense. Maybe we will all deserve exactly what we’re going to get when the Mayan Apocalypse comes in December.
But more about that next time.
- Bookworm: “The Receptionist” (nikkimmascali.wordpress.com)
- Daily Photo Reprise: Cookie the Receptionist, 2011 (thecreativecat.net)
- Mayan “End Date” Found in Newly Discovered Hieroglyphic (techeblog.com)