Phone Paralysis

2003-01-13 - 6:22 p.m.

I so completely hate phones.

I cannot talk on them.

It's as if, by becoming a customer service representative, I have forfeited any ability to handle reasonable small-talk with anyone who I've known for less than 5 years. Mom? I can talk to her. Pookie? Yep. Blind Merv? If she ever called me, I'm sure I'd be able to say something, although she seems to be working in a call centre again, so that might be a dicey situation (by the by, Blind Merv: do you check your email, or are you just able to read my entries and then sign my guestbook? Also, will you ever update? You have an email from me today.) But:

Pookie's brothers, who I've met on -many- occassions, who are basically nice guys, and who I can find several things that we share as interests, call on occassion. This is what happens:

The Magus: Hello?

Pookie's Brother (Pookie's brothers are twins, though not identical, but even so it does not matter -which- brother called, the conversation is always the same): Hi, Magus?

TM (high-pitched, uncertain voice): Yep.

PB: How are you?

TM: Good.

Long pause, where I should probably have asked about their well-being.

PB: (Non-specific question that demonstrates a knowledge of my doings and a willingness to hear me elaborate more on them.)

TM: Uh, I'll get Pookie. (Flees.)

I'm sure they must think I have some sort of learning disability that completely prevents me from handling such daily obsticals as communication with other people.

Cheers,

The Magus

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