Ever have one of those moments when you are talking to someone (usually on the phone while at work) and at some point during the conversation the thought crosses your mind that you really don’t know how they were able to dial the number?  These are the people that don’t want to leave a message on voicemail they just want you to write it down.  They, also, ask a question then proceed to argue with you regarding your response.  Makes you wonder how some people have survived all these years doesn’t it?  It’s not that I mind helping these people but some days it just doesn’t pay to answer the phones.  I have one good nerve left and they are doing the cha-cha all over it. 

Generally, when I answer the phone I pick up a pen and start making notes as the caller is talking…this began early in my working career so that I did not have to continually repeat information back to the voice on the other end.  It continued during my foggy days of motherhood when I operated on little sleep.  As I have moved into the middle age stream of life I find that it is most helpful trying to contain information like “who the heck am I talking to again” moments.  As I answer the phone these days I have to pause and wonder who lets these people use telephones?  Are they allowed to drive?  Make medical decisions?  Is the village missing someone? 

…this too shall pass