The lady on the phone says, “If you like to leave a message, press 1 or just wait for the beep. If you…”
Time to leave a message, I don’t like leaving messages, I think they are boring by nature, ‘Hey so-and-so, it’s so-and-so, at so-and-so o’clock. Just seeing what’s up. Ok, so call me back.’ I always try to spice up my voice mails with some off-handedly odd banter. ‘oh yeah, I’m in jail.’ Maybe I should just play this one straight. Nah, that’s just not my style. I press 1 and there is a familiar beep. What’s gonna happen this time?
“Hey there, Lauren. We missed you last night at $2 PBR night. I wanted to know if you wanted to go to lunch with me…” c’mon, I can do better than this, “…and my monkey.” Ok, here we go. “Yeah, I just got a monkey, then I shaved him. He was not happy about that, I have scars.’ Cool it down, this might be interpreted the wrong way. “He’s oddly quite right now, and pink, and super pissed at me.” Not looking good. Pull up. Pull up. Maybe you can salvage something out of this nose diving voicemail. “He can’t come with us to lunch, if you even wanted him to. It’s some kind of heath code violation. No one likes pink, angry, shaved monkeys with their lunch.” Abort. Eject. Pull the plug. Disengage. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. “Holy shit, I can’t leave this message. This message is retarded.”
I press 1 on the phone again, which usually leads to a menu of options to erase, rerecord, or send the message. The lady says,
“Press pound to send, press 3 to review, or press 9 for more options.”
I need to erase this message so that she never gets this double helping of my inappropriateness. 9 for more options, eh. I don’t need to look at the keypad, I know which one is nine, the one of the bottom right.
“Message sent. Thank you for calling”