I Am Number Four… Again

(I am a senior in college, working four jobs, because due to several incidents I have been traumatized by roommates and need to pay for a place of my own. My parents insist it be in a “safe” area, which means it will be expensive. Also, I can’t find single full-time job that works around my school schedule. This happens at my job at the university box office a few weeks before finals, when I am working an average of about 70 hours per week. The box office job is my “easy” job, where I’m allowed to do homework. I just came from three days of doubles at my other jobs, and stayed up late the night before working on a project. I’m alone in the office and dozing when the phone rings, waking me.)

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Drugstore] on [Street], [Drugstore slogan]. How may I help you today?”

Caller: *silence*

Me: *realizing* “Um, I mean, thank you for calling [Sporting Goods Store] at [Local Mall]. Which department were you hoping to speak to?!”

Caller: “I don’t think that one is right, either, sweetie.”

Me: *now slightly panicking* “Right! I meant, welcome to the [Non-Profit that I both volunteer and work for]! No, wait. That’s not right, either.”

(At his point, the caller is laughing hysterically, and the fog clears from my head long enough to realize it’s the woman who works in the office that oversees the box office.)

Me: *laughing, too* “I’ve got it this time! Thank you for calling [University] box office. How can I help you today?”

Caller: *no response, only laughter*

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I Am Number Four