The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

14 April 2006


Friday, 42nd and Treadmill closes at 4:30 pm. (I seldom get to leave that early, but that's another matter.) And at closing time today, our old phone system will be unceremoniously ripped from the wall and replaced with a shiny new (and, surprisingly, even larger) box. How old was it? The voicemail test message is "Mr. Watson — come here!"

What's going to happen, though, is that about 4:29:30, the phones will be ringing in earnest, and we'll get desperate calls from annoying people who evidently have no one else to talk to, as happens pretty much every Friday, right on schedule, and they'll bend the ears of our poor staffers as long as they're permitted. I hope that the cutover time is graven in stone, and that the miserable scuzzbuckets are cut off in mid-sentence. In mid-syllable, if possible.

Posted at 2:13 PM to Wastes of Oxygen

'Twas Graven indeed (reporting from the scene).

Posted by: Mel at 6:00 PM on 14 April 2006