This one just might be my favorite law library story.

[kellinator]

The telephone rings.

I put on my fake-cheery phone voice. "Law Library, circulation desk."

"Hugh MacMillan."

"Excuse me?"

"I want to talk to Hugh MacMillan."

Our library is named the Hugh MacMillan Law Library. There's even a huge plaque with his picture right in front of me. This is rather like calling Grant's Tomb and demanding to speak to Grant.

With obvious pleasure in my voice, I reply, "Hugh MacMillan died in 1995." The reference desk worker has figured out what is going on and is falling over herself with laughter.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. We have him down as our contact person here at Sprint."

No you fucking don't. You're talking out of your ass.

"Who's in charge of your phone service?"

"We're happy with our phone service."

"I want to talk to whoever's in charge of your phone service."

"Please hold on."

I put down the phone and quickly get permission from the reference desk to politely tell this person to go to hell.

With glee, I politely tell the person that no, he cannot talk to anyone, and hang up before he can respond.

Comments

[nukewolf.livejournal.com]

I once had the local newspaper office call me at work to sell me a subscription. Problem is, I work in a cleanroom like you see at Intel and such. White suit, booties, face mask, gloves, the whole nine yards. The only way I could have a newspaper in here is if it was sealed in a plastic bag. I got a big kick out of that one.

[kellinator.livejournal.com]

I'm getting a hell of a mental image out of that...