Let me show you a little bit of telephone dialogue, and you tell me what’s missing:
“Hello. Yeah, it’s your father (pronounced ‘fah-tha’). Anyway, I’m heading out that way and I’m gonna stop by your house to give ya those units, ok? Ya got that? Yeah? Alright, see ya later, ok? Bye.”
Give up? Here’s a hint: I didn’t leave out any of the dialogue.
Still stuck? You need to hear what the person he’s speaking to is saying in response, you say? I’d love to do that, but there’s nobody to respond to him. Yes folks, he’s talking to an answering machine.
This fact alone may not seem all that strange to you. Heck, if you’ve never caught yourself asking questions out loud, not expecting an answer, you either:
- think you’re completely sane, or
- don’t own a pet.
And we all know nobody’s really, completely sane, right? Don’t answer that.
You might be thinking to yourself that I have some sort of vandetta against my dad; that I’m set out to humiliate him. Please, people! He does not need me to do that! No, today I’m writing to question my own level of sanity.
Yes, I sit around and ask my dog Guinness questions, like, “are you a gooood boooooy?”, and not expect an answer, but that’s a level of my sanity I don’t question. That just means I’m a proud dog geek.
Let me try to put this somewhat delicately. Here’s another portion of a telephone conversation. Again, tell me what’s wrong with it:
“…so how’s that sound? You think you guys can make it out here this weekend? Well, let me know, ok?”
“Yep.”
I’m not giving hints this time. I think it’s quite obvious what the problem is here. It’s an answering maching message, and I answered him. Dear Lord, I answered him.
Now that I’ve revealed that embarassing event to the world, I sure do feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. From now on, I’ll make like my dog when listening to my father’s messages, and leave all questions unanswered, drifting carelessly into the wind.
Know what I mean? Yeah? You got that? Good.
