The Obscene Phone Call and the Dishwasher
Sometimes it's hard to find a good repairman. Even an obscene phone caller should know that. Or maybe it's just a good way to discourage him.
A Good Repairman is Hard to Find
“What ya’ doing?” the voice whispers seductively over the phone.
“Could you speak up a little. My hearing’s not what it used to be,” I reply.
A little louder this time, the voice of the phone says, “What are you wearing?”
“What am I wearing?“ I look down at the jeans with a hole in the knee and sweat shirt that had once been dark blue in its better days.
“Yeah, what are you wearing? Is it something see-through?”
“Well, only if you want to see my kneecap. Is this you, Harold? I haven’t got time for this. And why in the world do you care what I’m wearing. I told you I need my dishwasher fixed. But I’ll dress myself in formal wear if you’ll get over here and fix this stupid machine.”
“You’ve got me all wrong, lady,” the voice said now a little agitated. “I think you have a beautiful body, and I want to paint you in the nude.”
“Sued! No, Harold, I’m not going to sue you. I just want my dishwasher fixed. I swear, what is wrong with you. I didn’t say anything about suing you, although I should since you said it was fixed the last time you were here and I paid you $100.”
“No, lady,” the voice was shouting now, “in the nude, in the nude! I want to paint you in the nude.”
“In a new what? Paint? Harold, what are you talking about? I don’t need anything painted. I need my dishwasher fixed. Now, are you coming on over here, or do I need to call somebody else?”
“Lady, are you hard of hearing or what?” Well, I never. How dare Harold talk to me this way. After all, I am the customer.
“Am I hard of hearing? You’re the one who can’t seem to tell what I’m saying. Now, Harold, I’m telling you if you don’t get over here, I’m going to call whoever it is you call to report you as a bad repairman. So get your you know what over here and fix my dishwasher.”
“Lady, you’re crazy,” the voice said and hung up.
“Lazy old man, I don’t know why I mess with him, and if he thinks I’m gonna’ pay him again for something he should have done the first time, he’s crazy himself.” I mumble as I hang up the phone.
Going back into the kitchen, I start the water running to once again wash those dishes that by all rights should be in the swirling water of the dishwasher by now. The phone rings again. “If that’s Harold with some lame excuse again, I’m gonna’ tell him he…oh, hello, Karen.” I crinkled my nose. That’s all I need, my nosy neighbor calling. Must be a slow gossip day in the neighborhood. “No, just washing some dishes. I can’t get that repairman over here. He’s a lazy old bum. But let me check my Caller ID, Karen. I think I’ve got some good news for you, I think I’ve found just the right man to paint your house.”