You’ll have to forgive the ironic setting of this story, given the topic. But it happened just this way. Really. Would I lie to you? I mean if no money was involved?
* * *
Today I was by myself in the Ladies Room, minding my own business in my little gray stall. OK, so I was doing my own business in my little gray stall, when the door opened and another woman walked in. I couldn’t see her. In fact, thankfully, I never saw her.
She hadn’t taken two steps into the bathroom when her cell phone rang.
Sometimes, you really should just let it go to voice mail.
This is what I heard from my, ummm, perch.
“Hello?”
…
“Speaking.”
…
“What were the results?”
Now I’ve had enough calls like this to know that she was talking with someone from her doctor’s office. I cleared my throat to let her know that someone else was in the house. Loudly. I tapped my feet. (I did not, however, cop a wide stance as I wasn’t in Minneapolis.)
… … …
“Oh, do I have to take anything for that?”
…. … … …
“You mean I have to go back and tell my partners?”
I coughed. Loudly. I thought about starting to sing.
… … … …
“How many do you think I need to tell?”
…
“Can you figure out who I got it from?”
At this point, I DID start to sing, loudly:
And with that sound, finally, the tone-deaf woman realized that there was someone else in the bathroom, and perhaps this wasn’t the best place to discuss her newly diagnosed Sexually Transmitted Disease.
But you know this whole thing made me realize that folks just don’t understand true cell phone etiquette:
If you let me listen to the start of the call, I get to hear the finale.
FiftyFourandAHalf 