There's No Such Thing as a Quick Question

The phone did not ring. I picked it up to call my wife. There was no dial tone. Just that voice.

“Do you have a minute? I need to ask you a quick question……” were the caller’s words.

A more accurate depiction of those words would be “Wow! I’m so surprised you answered your phone on the Day After Christmas. You NEVER do that. You are always in the office that day - hiding - trying to get some work done. Never thought you would pick up. I’m so excited that you are available! Do you have just a minute? I need to ask you a quick question……”

Just a quick question, huh?…… What a hoot!

“Sure,” I said, “How can I help you this morning?” Did I mean it? Who knows? I had just arrived at the office five minutes earlier. The coffee pot hadn’t quite finished creating its magic potion. Awake and ready to go? Not a chance. But back to the question:

“I got a new truck.” the caller said.

Well, we’re off to a bad start. This guy would never make it on Jeopardy. My inner Alex Trebeck screams “Please word your question in the form of a question!”, but instead, I manage to mumble “Congratulations”. Then dead silence.

The caller says, “Don’t you need to know the details?” Finally, a question.

With the phone in one hand and the coffee pot in the other, I respond, “Is that your quick question?” Quite possibly, the caffeine was going to be instantly transmitted through the carafe, into my arm, and somehow inject itself into my bloodstream. I felt good about my response.

Oddly enough, THAT was not the caller’s quick question. His quick question would be at the end of a tremendous amount of information. None of which was written down because I was not taught in school how to balance a mug, a carton of milk and two sugar packets, while holding a telephone. Not to exclude the chocolate syrup that was going to sneak itself into the mug. Hey, it’s my day to work as I choose. And after all that pumpkin pie last night....

The caller goes on to tell me that he has a brand new pickup truck that is huge. His salesman instructed him to tell me it weighed a lot. The caller relays to me that his next door neighbor said he was going to be able to write the whole thing off as a tax deduction. He let me know that his neighbor was a doctor and doctors know all about tax breaks.

What I meant to ask was, “What is your quick question?” What came out of my mouth was, “How did you pay for it?” (Do hospitals have a way to use an IV for coffee?)

“The salesman had this really good payment plan. Don’t even have to go through a bank.” Uh.Oh.

What I meant to ask was, “What is your quick question?” What came out of my mouth was, “Did your corporation buy the truck?” (Would sticking my finger in the electric pencil sharpener be a nice wake up tool?)

“You bet. My neighbor, the doctor, helped me with that. He said his accountant writes off everything in his corporation. And the salesman said I could put as many miles on it as I wanted.”

What I meant to ask was, “What is your quick question?” What came out of my mouth was, “When did you do this?” (Maybe a small paper cut might have helped me.)

Without hesitation, he responded, “Ten days ago.”

Boldly, I took a gulp of coffee (now with added chocolate syrup) and asked, “What is your quick question?”

Trying to find the right words, the caller finally blurts out, “Did I do the right thing?”

My reply? “Well, I’m no doctor, but . . .”

Written by Frank Page
Author of Exercise from a Lawn Chair
www.debitman.tv