Wednesday, January 25, 2006

HUNG UP

Yes, yes, I love that Madonna song too, and so does everybody else in Paris, including my upstairs neighbors, my next door neighbors, and the bar behind us. I need to express my frustration, however, with the people that hang up on me. I feel like the biggest idiot. When the phone rings, I don’t even want to answer it because I know what’s coming: a big dose of humiliation. The other day, someone called for Fred. I was trying to give them Fred’s work number and they kept correcting me. I was getting very frustrated. Finally, I realized that they were giving me their number and they were correcting me because every time I said Fred’s number, they thought I was incorrectly repeating back the number they had given me. Usually telemarketers hang up on me when they figure out I can’t speak French. Which on any other occasion would be a blessing, but under these circumstances, it’s a slap in the face and a reminder that I can’t even handle the most of basic conversations.

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