There have been times when my crank calls have gone terribly wrong. Those are stories for another day, but suffice it to say I haven’t learned my lesson. Crank calling Brantley at work is one of my favorite pass times, and some would argue (ok, just me) that it’s a legitimate hobby. When crank calling gets recognized as an Olympic sport I will wave my gold medallion in your faces.
The art of CC’ing requires a good bit of work. There are disguised voices involved, not to mention the back story and the slightly ridiculous request or complaint I will call with. Up to ten minutes can be spent at one time just to get lucky enough for Brantley to answer the phone. When I hear the voice on the other line say, “This is Brantley. May I help you?” that’s when I pounce.
The following conversation occurred two days ago.
Brantley- “This is Brantley. May I help you?”
Redneck lady- “You sure may. This is Eunice Petty. Do you all sell Massengill?”
Brantley- “Only by the gallon.”
At that point the line went dead and I can only assume that he hung up. We haven’t had a chance to discuss it since then, but I’m fairly certain he knew it was me. I will spend some time this week cultivating my character a bit more. Perhaps she wears a hat, or sounds a little more downtrodden. One thing is certain, and that is Eunice Irene Petty better be receiving her gallons worth of feminine care.
Hilarious!! Love that y’all still have fun (or at least you do!!)
cardigansandcrayons.blogspot.com
I try!!!
Thanks, Stacy!!