March 15, 2006 at 9:42 AMLast week, I finally got up the nerve to call a highly recommended teacher in Anchorage to inquire about lessons. The first time I called, I nervously waited as the message machine explained which button to push to leave a message for the person I wished to contact. Clearing my throat, I began to stammer to the beep, stumbling over the explanation of my situation, my desires, my willingness to travel, only to be intercepted by a small, incoherent voice. ...Hmm, must be a very young daughter. She hung up on me.
I called again. This time, I thought perhaps I would get the teacher. Instead, I was funneled to her personal mailbox to leave yet another message. I began my explanation again, only to be disconnected by the machine before I could leave my number. My nerves were frazzled, my courage gone, but I had to give it one last try, if only to get my number on her machine. Otherwise, she would never call me back.
I mentally prepared my concise sentence that would effectively get the point across in the least amount of time: "Hello, This is Emily Grossman, my number is--" This time, the older son picked up the phone. "Can I take a message?" he asked. I gave him my name, a brief message, and phone number, making sure he spelled it all correctly, and letting him know she could call me any time. He promised to let her know.
She never even returned my call.
After THAT, well, if she doesn't call back, then you can finish saying, "screw her - I don't need this."
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