One Ringy Dingy

I hate talking on the phone.

That hasn't always been the case. I fondly remember getting my own phone with my own number in my bedroom when I was in 9th grade. I was in heaven! I spent countless hours on the phone giggling with girlfriends and whispering with boyfriends. Isn't that the stuff that teenage girls are made of?

Now? Not so much. I make the obligatory calls to my mom a few times a week and occasionally to my brother, but that's it.

Today the frickin' phone is ringing off the hook at work. It is not my job to answer the phone. I don't mean to sound all high and mighty, but seriously - it is not part of my job description. We have an administrative assistant and three sales people currently on staff. Yet, I am stuck answering the phone.

I want to pull the damn jack out of the wall and throw it in the street.