First time for everything, my ears still ring.
No chug-a-lug here, though. This isn't Roger Miller's song popping through. This is serious acrimony.
I had to look that word up, but it fits. It means harshness of words. That's the nicest way I could think to say if one more person rings my phone to tell me the FBI says fraud is on the rise or tell me that politics is interesting business, I'm going to reach through the phone line and yank their eardrums out with my bare hands.
Monday night, every time I got settled at the computer, the phone rang. And these aren't even real people calling. These are recorded messages.
I'm thinking these companies got tired of hearing phones slammed in their ears so they started using fake people.
And fakier of all are the ones who put a smile in their voice. I suspect it's to make the person answering the phone feel at ease - you can tell when somebody is smiling when she talks. It just sounds different. I call it strange.
Those are the people I dislike most of all. Well, no they're not, now that I think of it. The ones who make me want to pull out my own eardrums are the cutesy little girls voices. You know the ones. High-pitched and sing-songy. Like a little girl purring.
That's another reason OMG was devised.
Anyway, I'm starting to read through emails, and some fake person calls to check my idea on the election. I'm hoping those calls are monitored because I told that fake person just what I thought. I'm also hoping they put me on the don't-dare-call-again list.
After that little tirade, I'm not even seated when the phone rings again, this time some fake sing-songy voice telling me nothing's wrong with my credit card, but but I didn't listen.
Unfortunately, when I slammed the phone down, my pointer finger got caught in the backlash, and now it hurts.
When the phone rang for the third time in 10 minutes, I refused to answer. I never refuse to answer my phone. But, the phone refused to stop ringing. Nine times it rang. So, of course, I start to worry it's someone I know who desperately needs to talk to me and I race toward the phone, only to have the ringing stop the minute my hand hovers over the receiver.
If I'd known I had such power, I'd have hovered over lots of conversations. I'd hover over anyone who starts talking politics, especially anyone who spouts nastiness about either presidential candidate. Neither needs any more crap said about them.
There was a time when the American public had a chance to vote the best man into office. That isn't happening these days. No, in elections these days, the public must vote for the best of the worst, for whomever probably won't hurt the country the most.
It's like that damnable phone that won't stop ringing. It's annoying at best, but there's not a whole lot anybody can do about it.
So long friends, until the next time when we're together.
Sandy Mickelson, retired lifestyle editor of The Messenger, may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.