"Maybe it's the whining...!"Talking to Mrs. B was the closest thing I could imagine talking to my mother would be like, if she were still on the planet. Hilarious, Bronx accent, laughter. So much ahhhhhhhh. Imagine the Bronx accent - because there's really nothing better - as we talked about New York, and about my endless fascination with and adoration of all kinds of accents, but particularly New York accents. She now lives on Long Island, does Mrs. B - or LawngAI-lnd if you're pronouncing it correctly? - and she was hilarious talking about how people can't seem to connect there, but she forces the issue every single day. A woman after my own heart. Mrs. B: "We aw whacked out heah! So crazy!" Me: [laughing] Whacked? Mrs. B: "Oh yeah! We think we'ah so speshl! Nevah occurs to-wus thaat theah moyt be uthah ways t'live. Sew separated!" (All I can think of is Joey on Friends saying, "This is whack!"i) But it was accents we were on. Mrs. B: "I wondah whoy peepl heah think they dohn't haave an aaccent." Me: "I know! It's marvelous. I mean, have they ever watched Long Island Medium?" Mrs. B: "Oh my gawd...I mean, I'll bet she doesn't think she haas an aacent, but pleez! I mean, you can tell people ah from the Brahnx. Maybe it's the whining..." Me: [doing a spit take and then bursting out laughing] What? Did you just say, 'Maybe it's the whining?" I didn't know what she meant, but it was 100% epic. Mrs. B: "Yeah!" [as in "of course!"] Me: [still laughing] "What do you mean? That's AWESOME!" Mrs. B: "Well, yew know, the way we tawk. Like the Naanny lady, with her whole whining thing. We awl talk that way!" Oh dear Jesus, I must ask for the recording of this conversation so I can transcribe it! From there it just got more hilarious as she talked about how she'd been married for something like 50 years and she started in on men. As she talked on, she suddenly inserted a phrase that stopped me. Mrs. B said something about men being wine bags. At least, being a lover of wine that's where my mind went. Confused, I asked her to explain what she meant, and she said, "No, no, you know men are useless. They think they're in charge and everything but they just caan't cope with prawblems. They're whine bags." I had never heard that phrase before. I mean, seriously, what is a "whine bag"? Maybe Scottish bagpipes??? But this woman: so damn fantastic and so full of piss and vinegar. I was truly in love. She offered to send me the cowboy boots she was buying for a one-time wear to an upcoming wedding in a barn - apparently the new "it" thing to do. I told her I'd phone her in May after the wedding, but no. I'm not taking the woman's boots off her hands! As it happened, Mrs. B was just one of 3 women in their 80's or 90's this week who have said remarkably supportive things during what is supposed to be strictly a sales call, but which I can never do without creating a relationship. And some of those relationships are really warm and lovely, like this one. I told her I'd been promoted and that it was a bit strange to be on this path at my age, instead of when I was in my 30's. Mrs. B was staunch and deeply authentic in telling me that (1) everything I've ever done in my life has made me who I am today and that it's All Good (a sentiment I've heard many times before, but coming from her somehow I believed it more); (2) I should only care about being happy and not to worry about the amount of money I earn (though she had to agree that it helps to have a pile of it when you're really old...); and (3) I'm going to be a fantastic success...and that I should call her any time of the day or night. Can't you see it? It's 2AM, I wake up from a nightmare and I pick up the phone and I dial this woman's number. She picks up and I say, "Hi, Mrs. B, this is Lori from Macy's, whodoIhavethepleasureofspeakingto? I mean...wait..." Uh...no. But seriously, how sweet of her is that??? Anyway, finally we circled back around to the Long Island Medium, with whom I have a fascination. I said to Mrs. B, "So, listen, if you ever run into the Long Island Medium, tell her to call me, okay?" "Oh shuah," says Mrs. B, though I've given her no number to call, of course. And while I'm thinking of something mildly clever to add to the conversation, Mrs. B she lays me out by saying, with a laugh, "“The Long Island Medium – do you see her nails??? Where does she go?" - as if I know any nail places on LongAI-land. I start to say something about how I could never type with nails like those, and "My gawd," says wonderful Mrs B, "I couldn’t even pick my nose!” And it's people like that who make phone work the absolutely best. ever. Seriously. I am going to so MISS this! But now I get to go cause trouble in another department and write about adventures in Making Matters Bettah! You thought I was just leaving this blog here? Not a chance... ©2019 Lori Kirstein
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWorking in Sales at a Call Center for one of the biggest stores in the country should come with hazard pay. Archives
December 2019
Categories |