Today, I was at home, sorting through my old maternity clothes. I finally decided to get rid of them once and for all (more on that later). Oh, and I may have been watching this at the time:
Yup. I totally blame Paula for my reignited obsession. Well, Paula and Perfect Eric. He’s divine.
Anyway, back to my story. My phone rings. I briefly tear my attention away from Eric’s abs and glance down at the screen. It’s DadJovi.
Voice on the Other End: “Yeah, I’m not sure if this is your husband’s or your boyfriend’s phone …”
And then she stops. Did I mention she spit out that phrase in the bitchiest voice possible? At that moment, I had two immediate thoughts — either my husband is dead or he’s having an affair (in which case, he’d soon wish he was dead). I quickly processed that he probably wasn’t dead given her bitchy tone — at least I hoped an emergency responder wouldn’t be so bitchy. So maybe he was just hurt? Or, again, maybe this was that call all women fear. It’s amazing the 1,000 thoughts one can have in 1.2 seconds.I knew one thing — I felt like I was going to puke.
I finally stammered out, “Yes, this is his wife.”
Bitchy woman: “Well he left his phone at O’Boys. Tell him it’s at the front desk if you have another way of getting ahold of him.”
Me: “OK, I’ll call his office phone. Thanks?” Yes, I said “thanks” as a question. Bitch.
When I finally caught my breath, I called his office and got his voicemail.
He called me back about 30 minutes later. He’d realized he’d left the phone there and gone back already.
I told him about my conversation with Miss Congeniality and he howled with laughter. When he stopped laughing, he guessed that it had been their waitress, which he confirmed was a) a bitch and b) one of the worst waitresses ever. Well, at least she gave back his iPhone, so at least she wasn’t all bad. But I think her lost phone delivery could use some work.
About 30 minutes later, DadJovi called me, again dying laughing. He said he’d gone in to tell his boss the story (they’d been at lunch together) and his boss shared this story: He also forget his phone one time at a different BBQ restaurant and the waitress called his wife. She physically described what he looked like (apparently the caller ID wasn’t enough of a description?) and included this gem: “He was here with two young girls.”
Um, wouldn’t we all freak about that? When his wife finally talked to him later, she was beside herself.
Turns out, he had had lunch with his niece and her friend (no, not this kind of niece)
So, dear BBQ waitresses of the world, please take my advice to heart. When you find a phone, and I’m sure you find a lot of them — men are idiots who would leave the house naked if we didn’t remind them to put on pants — please use the following script:
You: “Hi! I just found this phone at Restaurant Y. Your number was the last one called so you must be someone special. Can you let xx know that we’ll have his phone waiting at the front desk? Thanks!”
See how simple that is? Why must you make us assume the worst about our husbands? Is it all a fun game to you? Believe me, I knooooow from years of experience how hard it is being a server. I get it. But don’t take it out on us. We’re already pissed that our husbands get to go to lunch and have adult conversations while we’re begging our toddler to eat two more bites of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Must you make us feel worse?
Sincerely, the wives of the world.
What’s the worst call you’ve ever received?