So I've started my job as a receptionist as I've mentioned before. I always considered myself good receptionist material. Warm, friendly, nice smile, etc, but I never realized that something lurked within that would destroy my hopes of reaching the pinnacle of receptionist-ness.
I always knew I had a problem. My friends knew it. My parents knew it because my mother suffers from it. There's nothing wrong with my hearing, but I'm pretty sure there's something not quite right in my Wernicke's Area. Slight brain damage? Maybe. Judge for yourself. Not uncommon are comments such as this:
Me: Did you say you are in love with Michael Buble?
Whomever: No! I said I want to make a cheese souffle!
Oops. So yesterday a man by the name of Wif called. I had no idea that anyone in the world is named Wif, so I told me boss, Bob, that Wes was calling. He later corrected me, saying that his name was indeed strange. Near the end of the day, a man who I swear said his name was Brian King calls up Bob, and I transfer him.
Me: (Sweetly) Bob, Brian King is on the line for you.
Bob: (Gruffly and obviously annoyed) Ming! His name is Ming! He's Chinese!
Sorry Bob that my disability has come between us. I'll never get promoted to favorite receptionist now.
3 comments:
hahaha i think i have that too.. that would explain a lot. Good luck on your GRE's and I will call you on Saturday to see how you did. I am so close but so far from you right now! Goooo Amax!
Amy! I stumbled on your blog through Yolanda's. I LOVE this post! I totally relate -- I have the same problem. One day, we'll pull things together and find the cure. We could put together a 5K run or something to raise money. It'd be amazing.
This is Kathy from the ward btw! hehe
Post a Comment