05 January 2013

Saturday Harrumph

I was called at 6:48-in-the-blessed-a.m. yesterday by a woman who demanded to speak with my predecessor (who's been gone for 4 1/2 years, by the way). I explained that said person doesn't work for my company any more, and the woman then impatiently huffed and asked for the name of Dr. So-and-So's secretary.

Trying not to lose my cool at that early hour, I told her that I'm a commercial property manager, and don't keep track of my tenants' staffers. Besides, there are nearly 30 clinics in the building. I told her she should directly contact the doctor in question.

I thought that settled the matter. But while checking the e-mail inbox for any messages from my boss, I saw the woman's name. She was asking for the same info, except this time in writing. Turns out she's an admin assistant herself, and apparently doesn't get the concept of checking area codes for any time difference. Nor is she familiar with being told to look up a phone number.

No, she just went back to her notes, which we already know are wrong, and fired off a quick e-mail in lieu of doing, you know, any actual work.

So I looked up her area code ... and whaddaya know. 847 is Chicago, which explains a lot. She'll be a Dimocrat who is unaware there's anyplace else besides where she is.

They don't call them Dims for nothing.  :^)

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