Cosmetics Company Conference Call
Tonight, my neighbor asked me to jump on a 15-minute con call in support of her daughter's new business. The director running the call was as perky as you might imagine one to be that had 17 years in the business.
A full 18 minutes into the call, I emailed the following to my neighbor:
"This little director lady is a trip!"
A minute later, I sent this:
"I hope to goodness she shuts up soon, or I'll go over my minutes!"
My next email at 24 minutes read:
"I am going to kill myself now. She MUST stop talking. I thought you
said this would only take 10 to 15 minutes."
At minute 26, the email was titled, MURDER.
"This type of person makes me want to murder someone. LOCK YOUR DOOR.
Now, I'm laughing at myself. I'm dropping off after 30 minutes. Seriously.
I've had enough of her."
Still, she prattled on about EVERY detail of her Cosmetics Company success
story, as I was slowly fashioning a noose out of pantyhose.
Thirty nine minutes, prompted the following email to my neighbor:
"My eyes have now glazed over, and I'm drinking wine."
My neighbor then reported via email that she was having trouble with the
send button. "Can you fix it for me?" My response:
"I don't know. I am now drunk."
FORTY minutes into the presentation, the director announced that this was
her story in a nutshell. I had to send the following to my neighbor. I just
had to.
"In a nutshell! Seriously! In a nutshell is a 5-minute preso. SHIT."
Fifty minutes after the "10-minute call," I was in her house fixing
her computer, and I said, "If I did not love you, I'd kick the living
crap out of you right now." All she could do was laugh, because after
all, she was trapped on the call herowndamnself.
I think I'll go out and buy some Clinique now.
The Glazer Over,
Angry Lesbian
09/02/2009