NOVEMBER 13, 2008 2:27PM
Rate: 5
I am never getting a job in the Obama administration. Sad to say, it just isn't happening because the list of embarrassing things I would have to disclose would fill a volume and that doesn't even count my diaries from 11th grade.
Embarrassing emails? Really? How far back does email go? And parking tickets? Really? Right there I might be screwed.
I seriously took a few minutes to conjure up memories that could be conceived as "issues". By the end of five minutes the list was so long my brain exploded. The only remedy was to simultaneously write about it and eat chocolate. Which is exactly what I am doing.
Somewhere in the past I was a consultant who offered services to non profits. These services were pretty straighforward. Grant writing, board training, evaluation and staff training. Nothing exciting. But the fact I was working on my own was exciting and novel. I set up a home office, complete with a new phone number just for clients. In my infinite cuteness I thought that a phone number with the letters of my first name would be look cool on a business card. And yes it did, indeed.
But one caveat. If you want to do that, don't use your own name, and if you are a female, a better choice might be a guy's name. Soon after the phone was set up and I was working, I got my first call. I answered it in my own grown-up "I have my own business" voice.
It went something like this:
"Hello, this is Liza". Silence. Heavy breathing.
Then; "What are you wearing?". More heavy breathing. My brain actually stalled. And went into a mode I call idiot.
My response was to start over. "Hello, this is Liza". More heavy breathing, and still my brain had not caught on.
The reply; "Are you naked?"
And I did what any idiot would do. I hung up. Thinking everyone gets stupid prank calls, I got busy doing other stuff.
Again, the phone rings. "Hello, this is Liza".
"Oh yeah, ohhh yeah. Liza, watcha wearin?"
This time I was not having any. I asked in my slowest, most serious mommy is pissed voice; "Who is this and why are you calling this number?"
Silence. End of heaving breathing. "Uh, uh? Ain't this Liza? 1-800-Liza?"
Whaaaaat? 1-800-Liza? "Not really. But where are you calling from?"
No heavy breathing. Just a sigh. The mommy voice was working. "Jail. I be calling from jail. "
Whaaat? More mommy voice. "How did you get this number?"
"Uh, uh, from (blank blank naughty brown paper covered boob magazine) . There's an ad for phone sex, 1-800-Liza. Ain't that you?"
Mommy voice. "Absolutely not and don't call again!"
Since it was a new number, I thought that the other calls would just go away. Turns out. Not so much. I tried to trace it, and it turns out that the mystery was pretty simple.
My toll free phone number was not a true 800 number, but a new fangled toll free 866 number. And the boys that were dialing in, let's just say, were not the sharpest tools in the shed. I am sure they didn't get to take the magazine to the phone with them so how could they remember the whole number thing? Fortunately not everyone had that problem so I actually only got a fraction of the phone calls I could have gotten. Small favors.
I canceled my phone number and soon after, fired myself. I was a restless and annoying employee. In any case, I would not want to explain that one on an Obama adminstration application.
And one final thought. Who do you think made more money that year? Me or the other Liza?
Embarrassing emails? Really? How far back does email go? And parking tickets? Really? Right there I might be screwed.
I seriously took a few minutes to conjure up memories that could be conceived as "issues". By the end of five minutes the list was so long my brain exploded. The only remedy was to simultaneously write about it and eat chocolate. Which is exactly what I am doing.
Somewhere in the past I was a consultant who offered services to non profits. These services were pretty straighforward. Grant writing, board training, evaluation and staff training. Nothing exciting. But the fact I was working on my own was exciting and novel. I set up a home office, complete with a new phone number just for clients. In my infinite cuteness I thought that a phone number with the letters of my first name would be look cool on a business card. And yes it did, indeed.
But one caveat. If you want to do that, don't use your own name, and if you are a female, a better choice might be a guy's name. Soon after the phone was set up and I was working, I got my first call. I answered it in my own grown-up "I have my own business" voice.
It went something like this:
"Hello, this is Liza". Silence. Heavy breathing.
Then; "What are you wearing?". More heavy breathing. My brain actually stalled. And went into a mode I call idiot.
My response was to start over. "Hello, this is Liza". More heavy breathing, and still my brain had not caught on.
The reply; "Are you naked?"
And I did what any idiot would do. I hung up. Thinking everyone gets stupid prank calls, I got busy doing other stuff.
Again, the phone rings. "Hello, this is Liza".
"Oh yeah, ohhh yeah. Liza, watcha wearin?"
This time I was not having any. I asked in my slowest, most serious mommy is pissed voice; "Who is this and why are you calling this number?"
Silence. End of heaving breathing. "Uh, uh? Ain't this Liza? 1-800-Liza?"
Whaaaaat? 1-800-Liza? "Not really. But where are you calling from?"
No heavy breathing. Just a sigh. The mommy voice was working. "Jail. I be calling from jail. "
Whaaat? More mommy voice. "How did you get this number?"
"Uh, uh, from (blank blank naughty brown paper covered boob magazine) . There's an ad for phone sex, 1-800-Liza. Ain't that you?"
Mommy voice. "Absolutely not and don't call again!"
Since it was a new number, I thought that the other calls would just go away. Turns out. Not so much. I tried to trace it, and it turns out that the mystery was pretty simple.
My toll free phone number was not a true 800 number, but a new fangled toll free 866 number. And the boys that were dialing in, let's just say, were not the sharpest tools in the shed. I am sure they didn't get to take the magazine to the phone with them so how could they remember the whole number thing? Fortunately not everyone had that problem so I actually only got a fraction of the phone calls I could have gotten. Small favors.
I canceled my phone number and soon after, fired myself. I was a restless and annoying employee. In any case, I would not want to explain that one on an Obama adminstration application.
And one final thought. Who do you think made more money that year? Me or the other Liza?
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Comments
I wonder if Obama's staff considers hitting on yourself inappropriate flirting? Hmmm. I'm cooked.
Food bloggin? Is that embarrassing?
I kind of LIKED the Mommy is pissed voice. . .but that's just me. .
True story. I once had responsibility for selling 900 Service for MCI into Illinois State Government. One of our accounts wer all the people who registered guns. And we got the switching wrong---so Chster in downstate Illinois would get a sex line every time he tried to regisyter is "sport" AK-47. . . .
Needless to say hilarity ensued. . . .
True story. I once had responsibility for selling 900 Service for MCI into Illinois State Government. One of our accounts wer all the people who registered guns. And we got the switching wrong---so Chster in downstate Illinois would get a sex line every time he tried to regisyter is "sport" AK-47. . . .
Needless to say hilarity ensued. . . .
I actually DID work on a phone sex line. So, I guess I'm definitely not up for a job. And, if it makes you feel any better, you probably earned more money than the other Liza - it really doesn't pay all that well.
I used to lead guys on who'd prank call me with the heavy breathing stuff. It was great fun until the same guy kept calling me back. I hadn't considered that he had redial on his phone!
Great post...btw...what are you wearing?
Hi Glenn. Wearing? So glad you asked. Glasses. And pajamas. Remember? I'm a blogger! But I'm still not in the basement.
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