Momnesia

We Suck a Little

I was standing by H.Y.'s desk when J.C. answered his phone.
"How may I help you? Mmmhmm... Well, I'll be honest. I'm not sure I'm the best person to help you."
He glanced in my direction. I shook my head vigorously. He grinned.
"Let me transfer you to Stacey Hudson."
"Dammit!" I flipped him double birds.
"He's on line one."
I skipped over to my desk.
"This is Stacey. How may I help you?"
"Yeah, I wanted to order The Metro Spirit for my son. He's in prison."
I peered over at J.C. to make sure he wasn't crank calling me. He didn't seem to be, but you can never be too sure around here. (At the moment, J.C. is using his speakers for evil sound effect torture on the rest of us. It's repeating "Grey... Sweater!" in robotic tones. I get the message, already! I'll buy another color besides grey! And let's just say that B.L. is in for all kinds of telephonic fun when he returns from vacation)
"Excuse me, sir, are you saying that you would like to order a subscription?"
"Yes."
"Well, you know, if they allow him access to a computer, he can read us online at no charge."
"No, I don't think they do."
"Okay, well, I don't think that we usually do subscriptions, but let me give you to M.F. He might be able to help you."
I put him on hold and grin.
"M., line one!"

That was 10 minutes ago. He's still on the line with this guy.

UPDATE: Murphy managed to parlay a prank phone transfer into an actual story. Where's the funny in that?