Hold the Phone

A guy that I work with was doing a great impression of when his mom, livid with him, goes to answer the phone.

"I don't know how moms do that," he said. "One minute they're tearing your ear off and the next, the next, second they switch into the nicest voice you've ever heard."

"David,where were you last night?" He had a scowl on his face and he was brandishing a finger. "I was home ma" now switching to an imitation of himself.

"Yeah, home last night. Then why didn't I see the car? If I catch you one more time -- why hello Mrs. Residue." Through the first couple sentences, David slowly brought his outstretched thumb and pinkie to his ear and mouth. Then suddenly his menacing tone switched to the butteriest, most chipper and inviting voice you ever heard.

"They can have a whole conversation like that" -- his mom and Mrs. Residue can. "And if I try to leave the room, she'll glare at me or cover the mouthpiece: just where do you think you're going." He hissed the last words.

"And then straight back to her cheery voice. It's like they are having a great time. You might think I was off the hook, but when she hangs up it's back to as mad at me as she was before. I don't get it."

A couple of nights ago, Mitch and I had a fight before some friends came over. We hadn't resolved much, and it was half an hour after we were supposed to pick them up. I was steaming. As we tried to decide what we were going to do, cancel on them, have them over anyway and fake it, have them over and be moody, I decided that maybe I'm not cut out for this proper adulthood thing. I'm not sure I can be so duplicitous.

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