Phone Calls

Ever since I was very young, I have always hated making phone calls. Fourth grade was an especially bad year for me and phones. I can still vividly remember the extreme measures I went to in order to avoid talking on the phone. Just the thought of calling my friends was terrifying. I remember begging my older sisters to call my best friend for me. Even after the phone was ringing, I refused to touch it until Megan was actually on the line. "Are you sure it's really her?" I would ask tremulously. "It's not just one of her sisters?" Disgusted, my sisters would reassure me that it was, in fact, Megan; only then would I be persuaded to pick up the phone.

As I got older, I have become much more comfortable with the idea of making phone calls; however, last Monday I had an experience that made me consider reverting to fourth-grade and complete phone avoidence.

The day began innocently enough. I woke up, got ready for work, and found that I was feeling nauseous. I wondered if I should skip work, but since I wasn't seriously sick I decided to stick it out.
Work went fine; afterword I still only felt midly sick, so I decided I might as well keep busy. I went home, did laundry, washed my car, and took it down to Costco to fill up. That was when disaster struck. As I was standing there, waiting for my tank to fill, waves of nausea swept over me. Stumbling over to the nearest garbage can, I proceeded to empty my stomach . . . in front of at least 4 other cars. What a lovely sight for them, I'm sure. (Hey, at least I had the grace to do it in the garbage can, right?)

After that I decided that I should probably get home as quickly as possible. On the way back I stopped by my parents' house to pick up my laundry. While I was there, I made the fatal mistake of informing my mom that I had thrown up at Costco. Fully expecting her to approve of my quick thinking, I reassured her that I did make it safely to the garbage can. To my astonishment, she queried "Did you tell the employee there that you threw up?" The answer was a definite "No." My mom then had the gall to suggest that I should call Costco and let them know that I had thrown up "so they could change the garbage before it stinks."

Honestly, no wonder I used to hate phone calls!

I thought about leaving right then and there, but I figured I should probably humor Mom. (One thing I have gleaned from a lifetime of experiences— sometimes it’s just easier to humor your parents.) Reluctantly I picked up the phone and called Costco. I didn’t even know who to ask for. The main number just led to an automated list of departments. The gas station was not among those options (nor, unfortunately, was a “Vomit Removal Line"). Finally in desperation I opted for the Membership/Refunds department. I have great sympathy for the poor lady that was working in Refunds that day. I’m sure it wasn’t a question she normally hears. Imagine coming into work, picking up the phone and hearing the following
“Hello? I’m not really calling about refunds. I’m just calling to tell you that I threw up in your garbage. I just thought you might want to change the liner.”

If I had been her I would have hung up.

Luckily she was nice enough to thank me for calling before she hung up (after which she probably rushed off to tell all her co-workers about the weirdo that threw up at the gas pump and then was crazy enough to call back and report it).

Every story is supposed to have a moral. I suppose this one could be “Don’t throw up at Costco. Or if you do, don’t call them back." Either way, next time I have an accident at Costco, I’m going to make my sister do all the calling.