I don’t like to call out on the phone.  My mother didn’t either. She’d make my sister call the pharmacy, the doctor’s office, the Utah Power and Light Company (it isn’t called that anymore).  I make Tom call out, and what’s amazing is that he will do this for me.  I mean I’m a sicko, but he’s an enabler.  We’re both sicko.

It isn’t that I can’t call out.  I actually can.  In another life I was a secretary more than once and it was my job to call out and report back. I called out for Harvard College.  I called out for General Mills.   I didn’t seem to mind as long as I got paid to do it. My last clerical job was assisting the president of Grey Advertising in Minneapolis.  He once asked me to hire a private jet to California, because there were no commercial flights when he needed them.  I had no idea what to do, so I looked up private jets in the phone book and there they were.  I called them and hired my boss a private jet to California.

Then I went home and told Tom. “I don’t understand why I have to make phone calls for you if you can hire your boss a private jet,” he said to me.

“Well,” I said, “You weren’t there to help me.”

One summer Tom went to Berlin,Germany for the summer and I had to suck it up and call our bank which wrote us a letter that said we were going to prison if someone didn’t call soon.  So I had to call and this nice woman said HA HA HA, no, it wasn’t all that serious and so on and so forth.  That same summer I also had to call our insurance agency because LDS Hospital said they were sending us to prison unless someone called. And it was the same thing there: HA HA HA, we just like to send out scary letters and see if we can get people to call us back. 

On Sunday, a counselor in the bishopric handed me the bishop’s year-end report from 2007 and said the bishop would like me to write the 2008 report, and he wants it in a week.  You might think this would be an inspired calling since I am a writer, but you’d be wrong. I’m pretty sure God had nothing to do with it.  I have to call every auxiliary head and get a report from them.  I have to interview them on the phone.  I have spent the day in bed watching NCIS on Hulu to avoid this task.  Then I ate three supreme tacos from Taco Bell and had a Coke, which I don’t drink anymore.  Then I looked up the phone numbers and I called every last one of them, but only one was home, the elder’s quorum president, and he said he would email me a report.

No one will call me back.  Why should they?  I never call anyone back, unless it’s someone I want to have adultery with.

Why hasn’t God told the bishop that I am a teacher?  Why hasn’t he called me to teach the Gospel Doctrine class or Relief Society?  I was born to teach. Why do I have to be called to talk to people on the phone? I hate calling people on the phone.  I really really hate it.

Have I said that?