So, I answer the phone. Like a good little receptionist. With my peppy high-pitched voice and the sweetest inflections, I'm all, "Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking, just a mo-ment." I don't mind it. It's like performing. On the phone. And I've been told more than once I have a great phone voice. I guess basically, doing this absolutely inconsequential and minuscule task is one of the few things that I do every day that makes me feel productive.
See, answering the main phone line gives me power. I am the gate keeper. You ain't getting through unless I deem you worthy. And if you are rude to me I absolutely will tell the person for whom you were calling. (Calling for...) Phone time is good time. (As long as I'm not the one making the call.) I like having power.
Get a call from a snooty voiced bitch who asked, nay, DEMANDED, that she speak with someone IMMEDIATELY. I could tell from the caller ID that she was a sales person. And sorry, honey, your faux-urgency doesn't carry much weight when that person has not worked here for, oh, six months or so.
Yes, yes I will.
Every single time you call from here on out.
You will never get to speak to him.