November 14th, 1990

November 14th, 1990

At home, England

David’s last secretary was a bimbo and the latest one sounds like a battle-axe. Honestly David, something in between would be most appreciated!

I rang his office first thing (five pm here!) to let him know standby was over and everything was still on for my LA trip but a woman with a scratchy sounding voice picked up his private line.

“Hello, I’m looking for David, please.”
“He’s isn’t here,” she stated, sounding like a suspicious wife.

“Do you know when he’s expected?”

“For what?”

“Eh, for work.”

“Who is this?”

“This is Karen, his-”

“Are you a client?”

“No, I’m his-”

“I can take a message.”

Yeah, right!

“Do you know when he’ll be in?” I asked.

“No.”

“Can you tell me if he’s travelling?”

“No.”

Trying my hardest to mask my aggravation, I explained that I was enquiring if he out of the country on a work trip.

“He’s presently out of the office,” she retorted.

“I gathered that.”

“Is there anything else?” Saying her tone sounded impatient doesn’t begin to cover it.

“Yes, there is actually,” I said in the snootiest tone I could muster.

“What do you want?”

Oh, where to begin!

“I’d like you to take a message please.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

“Please tell him his girlfriend from England rang and would appreciate a call back.”

She hung up before I had a chance to say anything else.

Oh, and my new roster arrived. I’m on the trip Millie and I requested, leaving Boxing Day, however, Millie’s name isn’t on it which means I have to break the news I’m going without her. Fortunately, for me, she’s presently on a plane to Buenos Aires.

 

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