Paula Emerson, receptionist for the Village of Vernon Hills, recalls a frantic phone call from a panic-stricken resident who felt threatened by a spider. Apparently she was home alone and couldn’t muster the courage to squash the menacing arachnid herself. Because it was a slow crime day in Vernon Hills and a police patrol car was nearby, a patrolman stopped by, looked danger in the eye and squashed the squiggly bug for the hapless homeowner. (Emerson notes this was a one-time service and hopes residents do not develop a similar reliance upon such acts of valor against bugs by Vernon Hills’ finest.)
Silly statements and questions. We’re all guilty. Talk to people who make their living fielding phone calls from the befuddled public and they all have a favorite story to tell. Here are some of the best we’ve collected. The names of callers have been withheld to protect their dignity.
Now for a story problem
Emerson remembers another time when a resident called and asked, “If I’m traveling at 55 miles per hour, how long will it take me to get to downtown Chicago?” The receptionist still isn’t certain whether that call was about a trip to the Loop or a math problem.
Showing grace under fire
Fred German, 26-year veteran clerk for the village of Tinley Park, remembers a phone call he received in the days before 911 lines were common. A resident called to report that her house was on fire. When German asked how the fire department could best get to her house, the caller replied, “Don’t you have those little red trucks?”
It was a wonderful life
The Will County Forest Preserve District’s answer man, Bruce Hodgdon, reports that a woman once called to ask if the forest preserve would like to have a butterfly she caught. It was, she said, the most beautiful butterfly she had ever seen. After Hodgdon expressed some interest and was getting ready to visit her, the woman confessed that she had, of course, already killed it.
The big chill
Another woman called Hodgdon to report that a duck seemed to be stuck in the ice in the center of a lake near her home. She had thrown bread crumbs out on the ice trying to lure the poor thing to shore, but the duck was apparently too frozen to move. When Will County Forest Preserve officials arrived on the scene to rescue the cold duck, they found that it was in fact a wooden decoy.
Have you ever smelled baby’s breath?
Susan Grupp, who is the unit horticulture educator for the University of Illinois Cooperative Extension Service in Wheaton, used to work at a florist’s shop. She remembers a call from a man who wanted to order a dozen long-stemmed red roses. They were to be a wedding anniversary gift for his wife.
“He was very businesslike and dignified. He had practiced what he was going to say and specified his instructions clearly,” Grupp said. He was doing pretty well until he tried to request those sprays of tiny white flowers that often accompany bouquets of roses. “And don’t forget to put plenty of that bad breath in the box,” he said, flubbing the name of baby’s breath.
Ever the professional, Grupp held her laughter until she hung up the telephone.
Count the remaining lives
Morton Grove veterinarian Dr. Robi Drell reports that her office regularly gets frantic phone calls from pet owners who say, “The window’s open and I can’t find my cat. Did she jump out?” There is, Drell says, no good answer to that question.
Apparently, this one was a Democrat
Then there was the despondent bird owner who called to report that, although she had followed Drell’s instructions to a T, her cockatiel was dead. It seems that when the owner had brought the sick bird in for examination, Drell concluded it would require several rather disagreeable treatments, which could be administered at home by the owner. However, because birds remember the faces of people who make them unhappy, Drell advised the owner to wear a mask during treatment. That way the cockatiel wouldn’t associate negative things with its owner.
The owner was all set to administer the treatment, she said, complete with the only mask she had in the house–a Richard Nixon mask left over from a Halloween party. Sadly, the cockatiel took one look at Nixon’s face, shrieked a terrible, piercing cry and dropped dead on the spot.
Not that special
Jane Hogdkinson, director of Western DuPage Special Recreation Association, notes that his office gets frequent telephone calls from folks who think the “special” in the name means “nude” recreation programs.
Talking turkey
Jean Schnelle, home economist and director of the Butterball Turkey Talk-Line located in Downers Grove, has fielded thousands of phone calls both puzzling and entertaining during her 15 years as a talk-line maven.
“You get mental pictures of some strange things going on in American kitchens on Thanksgiving,” she says. A lot of problems arise when people who usually don’t cook try to make Thanksgiving dinner.
“It’s real obvious when people aren’t familiar with turkey or kitchen terminology,” she says. Like the time a woman called and asked how to make gravy out of the turkey “droppings.” At first, Schnelle was stumped, wondering how the caller came by turkey droppings. Then she figured out the caller meant to say “drippings.”
Method acting
Another caller announced she wanted to place the bird breast-side up in the pan as the wrapper directed but couldn’t figure out where her turkey’s breast was. “So she said her roommate demonstrated by lying on the floor and assuming a turkey pose.”
Color him embarrassed
One man called to complain about the strange colors his Butterball turkey had turned in the oven. Schnelle suggested that turkeys will turn various shades of gold and brown during the roasting process. No, the man insisted, his turkey was blue and red and yellow and had a terrible odor. Schnelle finally figured out the man had not removed the plastic wrapper.
Hot for an answer
Palatine’s Weber Grill now has its own hot line too. Carol Miller, a professional home economist like Schnelle, has been on that line for the last three years. She remembers several calls from a man who lived in the mountains in Colorado and who wanted suggestions on how to keep a bear from coming out of the nearby woods, knocking over his grill and making off with the cooking meat. Miller politely suggested this was more a matter for the forest rangers rather than the company that manufactured the grill.
Grilling her for information
Another time, Miller remembers, a man called to ask advice–but not about his Weber grill. He didn’t own one. This handyman was making his own back-yard charcoal grill out of a discarded metal drum. He called the hot line to find out if they could suggest the best way to remove the toxic residue of the substance previously stored in the drum. Miller tactfully suggested that a container that was once home to a toxic substance might not be the most appropriate choice for a homemade charcoal grill.
Originality counts
Registration time at the junior college is very hectic as students vie for the course they want at the right time and with the right instructor. Some, Blacker says, will stop at nothing to get a jump on the competition. One woman insisted she must be put through to the registration desk since this would be her last opportunity to call.
“I’m on a gurney on my way to surgery. I’m making this call from the hospital hallway. I simply must register right now,” was what the young woman told Blacker. Though she doubted the surgery bit, Blacker says she put her through anyway. She figured the woman deserved it for her show of originality and pure chutzpah.
Sounds like a Popeil product
Speaking of hospitals, emergency medical dispatchers from Gurnee to South Holland report receiving scores of interesting phone calls. Medical emergencies are never funny, but when there is a slip of the tongue, sometimes you can’t help but laugh–after, of course, dispatching the appropriate emergency medical personnel. For instance, some folks who have a difficult time remembering these emergency medical personnel are called “paramedics” have called asking for everything from “vegi-medics” to “para-plegics.”
It’s 1-800-G-O-D
South Holland fire and paramedic director Kathy Grindel recalls a phone call that came in during a very bad rainstorm from a man whose front yard was under water. “I want you to send someone over to pump out my front yard,” the man insisted.
But, Grindel explained, it’s still raining and there really is nowhere to put the water. Nevertheless, the man persisted, finally resorting to asking if Grindel had any idea how much longer it would rain.
“Maybe you better call the man upstairs,” Grindel quipped.
His next question left her speechless.
“Can you give me his phone number?” he said.
It could happen to you
In all cases, these folks who answer silly questions for a living take their job seriously. Though they are often on the receiving end of some rude and foul language, they try their best to remain upbeat and helpful.
And none of us is immune to the stupid question syndrome. Several years ago my husband and I discovered that a chicken had taken up residence on lawn furniture cushions in the rafters of the garage attached to our suburban home. We knew it was making a mess on the car and it had to go. Yet, as born-and-bred city folk, we didn’t know the first thing about evicting unwanted poultry. We had a problem and didn’t know whom to call for help.
The next day I called the city clerk’s office. After I explained that I was calling to report a, uh, squatting hen, the receptionist politely asked if I would please hold. She put her hand over the phone, then I distinctly heard her repeat my story to her co-workers. The next sound was the muffled laughter of several city employees. My call had made their day. Fine.
And there was a happy ending. The city clerk’s nephew came out three days after my call. He trapped and transported our chicken to more hospitable digs on his farm.
