It was a prim and stern woman’s voice on my office voice mail yesterday.
“Yesssss. [pregnant pause] This is the Better Business Bureau. My name is [ ]. This message is for the owner of the company. Please return my call. My direct line is [ ]. I will be in my office until 4:30 p.m.” ((Click))
There was no “thank you.” No “goodbye.” No reason why this unfriendly person at the Better Business Bureau was calling me.
I’m just a one-person office. The “owner of the company” is me. The massage therapist and Yoga teacher is me. The bookkeeper and laundry washer and taxpayer and phone answerer and toilet paper buyer and Yoga mat roller and vacuum cleaner emptier and the one who carefully picks the ladybugs off of the office window and brings them outside to freedom? All me.
Did someone complain about me to the Better Business Bureau? Why else would they be calling?
Did I forget an appointment? Is someone upset that we did too many Down Dogs in class last week? (We didn’t, honest!)
Of course, I called them back. If someone was going to complain that the table warmer wasn’t warm enough during their last massage, I wanted the opportunity to explain.
The Baseball Bloggess 