Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Why I Hate Answering the Phone

Answering the phone. It's part of my job. It's part of what I dislike about my job. Here's one reason why:
Me: Town Hall, may I direct your call?
Them: Is this Jonesfield?
Me: yes
Them: Yes, I'd like to know when your flea market on Main Street is.
Me: We don't have a flea market on Main St.
Them: yes you do I've been to it several times. I grew up in the area.
Me: Maybe you're thinking of Brimfield or Jonesfield, NH.
Them: No, that's in the other direction, I know you have one in Jonesfield.
Me:I'm sorry, there is no flea market on Main St.
Them:Well I know there is! You get off of the interstate onto Main St. and it's past the highway garage.
Me: Our highway garage isn't on Main St.
Them: I know that, I grew up in the area. The flea market is in a big field on Main St. before the two schools.
Me: (realizing she's talking about the next town over) oh, you mean in Smithfield. Not here in Jonesfield.
Them: oh, yeah, well I knew I knew what I was talking about.
Me: (in my head)No, obviously you don't know what you're talking about you stupid beee-auch. (out loud) Well, there you go.
Them: I'll call the town hall in Smithfield.
Me: Here's the number. Talk to Lulu, she'll help out. Buh-Bye.

I wish people wouldn't call me and ask questions when they already know the answers. Seems counterproductive.

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