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Mental Gymnastics

I have been very busy the last two weeks learning to talk “receptionist”. I recently started a temporary job as a receptionist covering for a lady going on maternity leave. It turns out that being the ‘Face of the Company’ requires substantially more than merely good looks, a sunny disposition, and a full set of teeth… a receptionist needs to possess the Jedi-like power of taming the switchboard monster.

I have found this to be somewhat challenging for 2 reasons:

Firstly: There are 35 people working in this place and I’m struggling to learn all their names. At this point directing an incoming call to the correct staff member is as easy as putting lipstick on a buffalo. And apparently it is unhelpful to respond to the question “Is [Name] in the office?” with “Your guess is as good as mine”.

Secondly: Every day at work contains all the ingredients for a cerebral challenge that rarely exists outside of the Mental Calculation World Cup. Why? Because I suffer from a (self-diagnosed) syndrome that I like to call “Selective Verbal Dyslexia”. Let me explain; when two words begin with the same letter and fall within the same category, I switch them around and rarely use the right word. For example: I never get March and May right because both months start with the letter “M”. So, imagine the kind of mental gymnastics I have to perform daily in order to correctly identify the staff members when there are 5 people whose names start with the letter “A”, 4 starting with “B” or “M”, 2 with “I”, and 4 men are called Johan! Add into the mix the fact that my boss is called Michel. This is only noteworthy because Michel is a guy… I have spent the last week rediscovering all the reasons why it is unhelpful to refer to your male boss in the feminine vernacular. Of all the staff, I REALLY have been struggling to correctly identify Shanaaz (a lady) and Seraj (a gentleman) – not only do both names start with an “S” but they also rhyme which adds a whole new dimension to the problem. Yesterday Shanaaz’s husband called and said “Can I please speak to Shanaaz?” to which I jovially responded, “I’ll just check if HE is in!” The fact that I had just called this gentleman’s wife a MAN blended smoothly into the ensuing silence, virtually unnoticed, like squid in an airplane.

But managing the switchboard is not ALL bad news; not every call is a panic-ridden adrenalin-inducing encounter. Currently my 2 most regular callers are fairly easy to deal with. They are:
A fax machine.
And Darth Vader. I can only assume it’s him since this caller phones me every 15-25 minutes throughout my work day only to breathe heavily a couple times into the receiver and then hang up. I guess I will only know for sure whether it really is the Lord of the Dark Side, if he sighs heavily and then tells me “Luke, I am your father!” To which I will most likely respond “Luke… let me see if SHE is available!

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