The good news for all of us is that I did, in fact, get a real grown-up job! I began working at Under One Roof Trade Show Services at the beginning of August. Don't get too excited. I still sit around all day. But now I make sales calls hocking carpet to trade show exhibitors. (I know...I'm really putting my philosophy and Spanish degrees to good use).
I have been pretending to be a grown-up for two whole months now--minus the fact that I moved back home with Mom and Dad--and I have realized that there is just as much blog fodder in the work place as there is in my living room. Thusly, I have decided to brush off my blogging gloves and begin a new venture with the "Diary of a White, Formerly Unemployed Woman".
I don't want anyone to think that just because I am not using my degree I'm not learning anything. Oh, contraire! The life of a trade show carpet sales girl has its perils, and new lessons to be learned.
Lesson one: Contain inappropriate laughter at all times.
It might not be a fancy lesson, (didn't we learn that one when the fat kid farted in kindergarten?) but it is a vital lesson, nonetheless. I mentioned that I make sales calls all day. What I didn't mention is that my calling lists have phone numbers only--no names. So, as I call complete strangers all day, I never have any idea who is going to pick up the phone at the other end. After several painful hours of charming the pants off southern business executives, and sweet-talking my way past countless, unsuspecting receptionists, I'm always crossing my fingers for a number to lead straight to voicemail by lunchtime. However, leaving a great voicemail is not for the faint of heart...
For example, a few weeks ago, just as I was breathing a sigh of relief that I had been sent to voicemail after a long day of calls, the following message came ringing through my headset:
Female voice: "Hello! You have reached the voicemail of Jerry Ariola. *beep*"
Please read the above sentence a second time, and note the name. Jerry. Ariola.
Before I could stifle my laughter, the beep took me by surprise, and I was forced to leave an extremely awkward voicemail through muffled giggles. It went a little something like this:
"Hi, uh, Jerry? I hope I got your name right, Jerry Ari--Uh, my name is Jayne with Under One Rooffff ha ha ha..." You get the picture.
I would like to think that with time, I'm getting better at containing my inappropriate laughter. But this week I was slapped with another doozy. This time, a rather surly, female voice resounded through my headset. "This is the voice mailbox for Dee Fuhrer. I am away from my desk right now, but please leave a brief message, and I will get back to you when I can. *beep*"
I immediately hung up the phone and burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. For those of you who didn't get the joke, let's take a second look at that name: Dee Fuhrer.
Now, I'm no World War II buff, but I do know that one of Hitler's most infamous nicknames was "The Fuhrer". See the similarities? Add that to a deeper than average female voice, and you've got the makings of a voicemail only Franz from the Sound of Music could dream of.
After the pain in my side subsided, I managed to call Dee Fuhrer back and leave her one of my most professional voicemails to date. Unfortunately, Dee did her namesake proud by calling me back, and telling me that she didn't need any carpet for the trade show. Maybe I should have offered her some of our swastika carpet. It's a big seller in Berlin.
Lesson learned.
