Wednesday, September 26, 2012

You Had One Job...

Dear Cell Phone Hut:

I wanted to put in a good word for the cell phone case you sold me last week.  You see, it's been a rough week...

IT all started with the surprise news that my brother was in.  He lives across the country so it's always nice to see him when he comes in.  Brother #2 was going to be out with Nephew #1 at karate practice, then we were all going to meet at their house for dinner.  Simple, no?

Not at my house.

I had one job: to perform the duties of my second gig.  There I sat, remotely connected to the office, performing away.

My phone rings, which is never a good sign.  I love my cell phone, largely because very few people have the number and even fewer use it.  It's Brother #2, calling to give me the food order, as Wife #1 didn't answer her cell phone.


My wife had one job: to answer the phone and take the food order, after which we'd pick it up.  The cell phone that, it turned out, was located right next to her head in the bed.

I interrupted my billable hours to take a food order, then YELL up the stairs.  Honey?  HONEY?  DEAR?  HEY YOU!

But it was not to be.

Of course it was not to be.  If she missed the phone ringing next to her head, she was certain not to hear my bellowing from one floor down, with the door closed and the room fan on Blizzard setting.  

At about this point, I realized my billable hours just got cut in half.  Up the steps I went to let my dear wife know what the plan was.  I was hopeful she'd be able to handle this, which is usually my downfall.

Brother Number #2 called.  I have the food order.  We're shooting for 7:20.  You need to call and get the parents' order. 
"What do they want?" 
I have the food order. 
"What time do we have to be there?" 
7:20, like I just said.  Hello.. is this thing on?
"So we have to call in the order at 7:20?" 
No, we have to be there at 7:20.

At this point, I'm looking around, trying to find who else might be in the room talking to her.  Or where the camera crew is, as we're obviously filming a really bad parody of `Who's On First'.

And when I say we have to be there at 7:20, I mean it's 7:00 now. 
"Oh." 
And you have to call the parents and get their order. 
"Ok."

OK is a bad word.  It can mean anything from OK to `Go f- yourself, I'm going back to sleep'.
But, ever the trooper, the wife got up, came downstairs, and called the parents.

And when I say called the parents, I mean she sat on the front steps, smoking like a chimney and talking and talking and talking to my mother.

I honestly had work to do but could tell that nothing was going to get done.  My temperature started rising very quickly and in a bad way.

Honey.  HONEY.  DEAR!

She walks through the front door and tells my mother I'm yelling at her to get off the phone.

You had one job: to call in the food order.

"I'm sorry.  What time do we have to be there?" 
7:20 - and it's 7:10. 
"Oh, I thought we were leaving at 7:20."

I'm doing all I can to keep myself under control.  My head is revolving like Linda Blair in The Exorcist and I'm spitting pea soup.  I know the camera crew must be around somewhere because this can't possibly be happening.

Who am I talking to? 
"I'm sorry - all I saw was your lips moving and some grumbling; I'm not awake." 
$*&$#@#) 
"Do you have the phone number?" 
No. 
"Look it up." 
$*&$#@#)

I hand her the phone with the number.  She immediately clicks an unrelated link then puts the phone to her ear while it surfs the web  [eyes rolling].  When I point this out, she tries to bring the number back, gives up and hands me the phone.

I can't tell you exactly how it happened but all I know is that the phone became airborne, launching itself all the way across the house, accompanied by her sharp OOH!

When we eventually located it, the phone was just fine but we could only find half the case.  So thank you, Cell Phone Hut, for the case that gave its life to protect my cell phone.

Apparently my wife became awake at about this point.  I need to remember that she can look awake when she's not :)    She then completed her one job; calling in the food order.

Off we went to pick up the food.  At the end of the street was a car.  A police car.  Parked next to another car, completely blocking the street.  We sat there and were actively ignored by everybody walking around, finally deciding to back out the other way.  7:20 was a remote fantasy by this time.

On the way to get the food, we were treated to the most interesting displays of Stupid Driving imaginable.  People riding their brakes, stopping for no apparent reason, then going through lights.

We arrived at Brother #2's house only twenty minutes late.  It was some sort of minor miracle.

And when we opened the food, the order was wrong.  

The restaurant had one job.....


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