The Elevator Phone

My desk is near the elevator at work. The elevator doesn’t get much use anymore because the second floor is vacant at the moment. However, since my desk was moved to its new location last summer, I have discovered that the elevator phone gets more calls than I do. On slow days to amuse myself, I answer it. Here is what I have discovered.

A lot of people want the town branch of the Department of Motor Vehicles. One conversation evolved this way:

Me: Hello?

Woman: Yes, I need to register my car, are you still located in the strip mall?

Me: I’m sorry but this isn’t the department of motor vehicles.

Woman: Oh, can you transfer me?

Me: No, I’m sorry I can’t.

Woman: Can you give me the correct number?

Me: I would, bit I don’t see it listed here in the elevator.

At other times, all I discover is that someone is desperately trying to fax the elevator a document. I’m not sure where I would file it in the elevator.

There are times when I just enjoy playing with people’s heads.

One lady was soliciting donations. I mentioned that it was an elevator phone and I could pass the receiver around if she liked?

Another time, someone asked for “Frank.” I mentioned to the caller that she had called an elevator phone. I then pretended to ask "people" in the elevator if there was anyone here named "Frank". Just for good measure, I mumbled something about big brother. The woman cracked up and we ended up having a pleasant conversation.

What can I say? It’s all in a days work.