Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Our journey to the promised land of the Internets will have to wait because my skull feels like a conduit for all the headaches in the world. Here’s an excerpt from a phone call today. I have a hearty band of interns handling customer service now, thankfully, yet the choicest callers still wend their way into my voicemail.

“Ah, so is your mother home?” I asked the caller, suddenly realizing I was speaking to a child.

“She’s at work.”

“How about your dad?” I pushed.

“He’s in prison.”

The conversation got a little weird after that.