Please accept this apology for my curt tone during your call earlier today. And for the sarcasm. And for possibly hanging up on you. About that - I thought we were done. I, at least, had said everything I needed to say. But I realized as I was slamming the phone down on the counter that you may have still been talking. Again, sorry. Please read the following letter and select whichever answers best fit your mood. I assure you, they all apply.
I know that it is your job to be pleasant and talk to everyone your computer randomly dials. I also know that I don't have to pick up the phone every time it rings. I know what you are thinking. If it is not a good time then I just shouldn't answer, right? And normally I would agree. But today I answered the phone because:
A. my sweet little toddler has mysteriously gotten his hands on the phone repeatedly and dialed a variety of people, including Daddy at his office and 911. Both of whom called right back, and one of whom who was none too pleased to not have an emergency to dispatch help to. I felt I had to answer it - who knows who he could have called this time - the mayor, captain crunch, barney...
B. my husband was in Cleveland at a football game and if he called I certainly did not want him to miss my
C. I wished to spread my joy to whomever dared call my home that day.
D. all of the above.
When you spoke, at great length, about a service that, once you checked your records you could see we had already purchased, I may have been a tad less than sweet in my reply. I was frustrated with having to tell you, again, that this particular service was already scheduled because:
A. Let's see you spend the day repeating "don't touch that. don't hit your brother. don't tackle your brother. yes, hitting him with that pillow is still hitting. no more juice! milk is all we have. no, milk. then drink water. you know why you are in time out. if you don't want your brother to slobber on froggy then put him up. why did you think it was a good idea to stand on the rocking chair? what did you want from the mantle? did you hurt yourself? did you hurt the chair? no more video games! alex, we don't throw. gentle hands. gentle hands. gentle hands. GENTLE HANDS!", and still be sane.
B. I have wasted far too much time with your company to spend another minute talking about something I purposely scheduled in advance in order to avoid this exact conversation.
C. again, all of the above
I know I asked you to please speed up your sales pitch and get to the point. I would like credit, however, for saying "please". I distinctly remember saying "please". I needed to get off the phone quickly because:
A. my two year old was climbing out of the high chair, over my head, using my shoulder as a stepping stone, with one foot wedged between my right ear and my shoulder and the other firmly planted on the kitchen counter. His little fists were hanging on tightly to my hair, which was the anchor that allowed him to complete this feat. I realize the conversation that followed might have been confusing to you.
"Stop!" "No, not you." "You, lawn guy, keep talking," "STOP DOING THAT!" "Lawn guy, keep it moving! Don't stop talking!" sigh...
B. My big four and a half year old had spiraled down into "me" mode, as he frequently does when I am on the phone. His repeated cries for juice, (see above), television shows, candy, world domination... they truly are quite distracting.
Again, I apologize. The chaos winding up in my kitchen was not your fault. You could not have known what you were getting yourself into. It could have all been avoided had you just checked your records, but seriously, how could you have known? One thing was clear, however, with the way you held onto that sales pitch and kept valiantly plowing ahead despite my obvious need to wrap things up proves one thing:
you do not have children.
Sincerely,
well, you know who I am. I am fairly certain you have flagged my account so all future callers are forewarned.
not one of my better moments!
not one of my better moments!
