I find that any kind of overnight desk job has its surreal moments. My old uni dorm would open up for summer rental, and I would work overnight at the front desk. The weirdest moments came in the form of an older drunken woman who would call in from time to time thinking she had reached some sort of counselling hotline. Now, she seemed genuinely troubled, and I'm not knocking her for that. But she'd launch into her tirade as soon as she heard "Good Evening", and no attempt to convince her that, yes, she had actually dialed the wrong number, and no, she was not speaking to a trained counsellor could convince her of her error. Eventually we had to simply say "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number. Goodbye," and hang up.
OK, I'm done derailing the thread.
― Tantrum The Cat (Tantrum The Cat), Saturday, 2 October 2004 20:28 (twenty-one years ago)