As soon as my brother and I were old enough to be allowed to answer the phones at home, our parents impressed on us that we were under no circumstances to give details on why they couldn’t come to the phone (i.e., “She’s in the bathroom” or “he’s sleeping”) or admit if they weren’t in the house unless we were talking to a relative or very close friend; instead, the phrase we were to use was, “I’m sorry, he/she is not available right now. May I take a message?”

It was also very easy to tell when someone we were not supposed to be detailed or honest with was on the phone; our family name was pronounced identically to a school subject, but one of the vowels was different, so we frequently got (and get) people absolutely butchering the pronunciation if they didn’t know us.

We continued to answer the phone that way well into our adulthood, which led to this when I answered a call in June of 2010.

Me: “Hello?”

Telemarketer: “Hello! May I speak to Mr. [Dad’s First Name]… [mangled pronunciation of Our Surname]?”

Me: *Automatically* “I’m sorry, he’s not available. May I take a message?”

I suddenly realized what I had said and was about to correct myself when the telemarketer, obviously seeing right through my stock phrase, said brightly:

Telemarketer: “When will I be able to talk to him?”

Yes, that was the exact phrase she used. I didn’t exactly think before I answered, but I likely wouldn’t have been able to stop myself if I had.

Me: “Unless you have a medium on staff, the Second Coming of Christ. We buried him in January.” *Click*

Sadly, this story is not a funny one, but one full of anger and sorrow. Today, we learned that a coworker, who had been sent away in an ambulance two days ago with breathing trouble, passed away en route to the hospital.

When our bosses learned about it, they told the workers. Most of us didn’t know her that well, but we all knew how nice she was to everyone. One of my other coworkers had known her for years, so she was taking it harder than most. Then, in came our inhuman coworker.

Jerk Coworker: “Morning!”

Friend Coworker: “Oh… Yeah… Um… Morning.”

Jerk Coworker: “What’s wrong?”

Friend Coworker: “We lost one of our cashiers. She passed away. At only forty-six..”

Jerk Coworker: “Oh? Who?”

Friend Coworker: “[Coworker]. She collapsed at work and… and she didn’t make it.”

Jerk Coworker: “Oh… Well, I didn’t really like her.”

Someone then told him to get the f*** out as [Friend Coworker] started crying. He still doesn’t think he said anything wrong and that she is being “over-dramatic”.

CONTENT WARNING: Suicide

My sister took her life this past June, and sometime between there and when we move out of the house she died in, we get a phone call. It’s important to note that my sister had a more feminine version of my dad’s name. As a result, we always had to be careful how to say her name or be sure to let whichever one we were talking to know it was them.

The phone call is a scam, and I do not mean to mess with them; I am just still reeling from losing my only sister.

Scammer: “Hello, may I speak to [Father]?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but he’s not here right now.”

Scammer: “She’s not there?”

The scammer very clearly enunciates the “she” part.

Me: “Oh, oh! I’m terribly sorry; my sister passed away recently. Please remove our number.”

Scammer: “So, I cannot speak to him?”

Me: “Okay, wait. Which one are you trying to talk to, my father or my sister?”

Scammer: “I thought you said she died.”

Me: “Yes, my sister did die.”

Scammer: “But you also said that he wasn’t there.”

Me: “All righty, then. Who’s trying to confuse whom here? Okay, listen. [Father], the male, is at work right now, but he does not deal with this kind of call in the least bit. [Sister], the female, has taken her life, and obviously cannot come to the phone; I highly doubt I can recreate her out of her ashes.”

Scammer: “You are a c***.”

I snap and go off on them.

Mom: “Holy—”

Brother: “So, uh… think [My Name] is a bit too stressed?”

Mom: “Bit? Dear, your sister has seen things she never should have seen, but this is just… Oh, boy, she’s angry.”

I slam the phone down on the receiver and go out for a smoke.

Mom: “Hun, please go make sure she didn’t break the phone.”

Me: “Y’ALL KNOW I CAN HEAR YOU, RIGHT?”

Mom & Brother: “Love you, too!”

I stewed for a good while after that. Between grieving my sister’s death, dealing with PTSD, and everything else, I was not in the mood to deal with being called that. Usually, I would have just messed with them, but at that point in time, I was dealing with too much.

My uncle was always the sort to speak his mind freely — too freely. He speaks so freely that the entire family ended up cutting off all contact with him. Only my dad kept up with him, “Because he’s my brother, and it isn’t right to leave him behind.”

Then, one very unfortunate month, both my uncle’s wife and my mom died suddenly. My dad was brokenhearted and weepy, and after two weeks of mourning alone, he reached out to my uncle because he assumed he could sympathise with him.

Once they met and exchanged a few words, my uncle came up with this gem:

Uncle: “Oh, [Dad’s Nickname], I know it hurts, but you don’t have to let this get you down! You’re still a stud; you can always use that money [Mom] left you to pick up some strapping young woman, just like I did!” 

To the surprise of no one but my uncle, my dad decided to join the rest of the family and reject my uncle in disgust.

My department deals with account closures. A customer has recently passed, and I am calling her next of kin (her son) to discuss account closure and transference of funds.

Me: “And the matter of the pension payments your mother was receiving. The most recent payment went out yesterday, and that’s fine — we’re not chasing that or anything. It will be the last payment, though, so we should be safe to close the account.”

Customer’s Son: “Oh… the pension people know about Mama, huh?”

Me: “Yes, sir. She had arranged her pension with us also, so both departments became aware of her passing.”

Customer’s Son: “I was kind of hoping I could hold off on calling them.”

Me: *Knowing where this is going* “To what end, sir?”

Customer’s Son: “I wanted to get a few extra payments out of it before I told them.”

Me: “That’s not how it works, sir.”

Customer’s Son: “Could you… like… not pass along the memo for a few more months?”

Me: “They already know, and also, what you’re asking is committing fraud.”

Customer’s Son: “I’m not asking you to commit fraud! I’m just asking if you could keep my mother’s payments coming in a little bit longer!”

Me: “Yeah… that’s fraud.” 

Customer’s Son: “Ugh… even dead, she’s still a pain in my a**!” *Click*