Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Thursday, April 26, 2018

Plane Dating

I could hear her voice as I came down the hall.
It was raised.
Have I mentioned I don’t like raised?
I don’t.
“What?! What?! What are you talking about?! How is this my fault?!” The rather grating voice was up at least an octave.
Oh, man. Someone was getting it in the ear. Instinctively, my steps slowed.
“I’m going to come right through this phone and choke you till you’re dead!”
Better listen, pal. If it could be done, she’d be the person who could do it. Every alarm should be going off in your head. I shivered. I could just picture that burly arm emerging from the receiver.
“Why you little pipsqueak! I’ve got half a mind to ta- . . .” the voice broke in the middle.
Uh-oh. He cut her off. Buddy, never cut her off.
“Why you . . .!”
Silence. Buddy was talking again. We were obviously dealing with a rebel here. A rather brave rebel.
“But . . .!”
More silence.
“I’m telling you, it’s smashed! Smashed!”
It didn’t seem possible for that voice to rise higher, but it did.
“And we’ve waited weeks for that airplane model! Weeks! It’s the key display for our annual Royal Spring show! Made by prisoners while they were in a POW camp in Japan. Have you got no respect, man?!”
Oh, man. She’s playing the respect card . . . I’d reached the end of the hall. The wide reception area was before me. I could see Clara’s desk. She was turned slightly away, but I could see how red her wide face was. I rubbed a hand over my head and seriously considered a full retreat.
She turned slightly. I froze. What is it they say about carnivores’ visual acuity?
A model airplane was sitting in front of her on her desk. I frowned. It looked all right to me. Could this be the subject of her discussion?
She suddenly vaulted to her feet. “You listen to me, you . . . you . . .” Words seem to fail her. Her face was now more of a purplish colour.
I stared. I’d never seen this happen before.
“Well, it’s up to you to send someone to fix it!” A pause. “I don’t care if he just finished his rounds for the day. I need him to come back!” Another pause. “Listen, mister! I’ve got half a mind to bring this by your office and stick it in your one good eye!”
Uh-oh. She was threatening real violence now. Maybe I should . . . I stepped into the room.
Clara spun around and looked at me. Then jammed the phone down on its cradle. “Well, it’s about time! I’ve been screaming at your boss for 10 minutes!”
“Uh. Yeah. He sent me here as soon as he heard your voice. Was there something you need me to fix?”
She made a face.  “Are you kidding?” She moved around her desk. “Maybe we should stop meeting like this.”

7 comments:

  1. I'm starting to feel really sorry for Bruce!

    Uh, has your son run into many "Claras" in his job??

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hah!!! I hope this guy secrertly has the hots for her.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ah, nothing like customer service. The elevated voices get interesting. I've had some go up three complete octaves, while telling me that when I design the next one, I should keep the consumer in mind. Had a customer's wife that raised her voice so high that I could no longer hear her, although half the dogs in town started to whimper....

    ReplyDelete
  4. My first boyfriend was a Bruce. I hope I was not/am not a Clara.

    ReplyDelete
  5. There's a Clara in my life, although I have to say, she has come in handy for our family at times. Enough said.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I'm beginning to not like Clara.

    ReplyDelete

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