The A List.  The worst calls are from what I call "The A List".  These are callers like my mother, my x-wife, anyone selling telephone service and that pesky neighbor who always calls during pay-per-view movies.  Your "A List" may be different.  It may not even include my mother (although it should).

    "A List" calls usually go something like this:

    A few years after Mt. St. Helens blew my mother called to tell me that the river dike near my home had broken, and that I needed to take my family to high ground.

    "Thanks for the warning mom.  I’ll grab Winnie and the kids and get out of here this instant."

    "Ronald is sick again."

    "What? . . .  Sorry to hear that mom, but I have to . . ."

    "This will be the third time he’s gone to the vet in three years."

    "Gee mom, that’s – Say there’s an emergency vehicle outside, and the man on the loud speaker says we need to evacu . . ."

    "Louise’s dog is sick too.  Do you think they might have the same thing?"

    "Mom, everyone is leaving the neighborhood.  I think water is coming up the . . ."

    "They could have a virus, like uncle Howard . . .  I don’t want to worry you, but, I’m having some pains in my . . ."

    "Mom! A boat just went by . . ."

    "Oh they’re not big pains.  You shouldn’t worry about. . ."

    "Mom!  Water is coming in the house and, blurble, blurble.  Blurble little Ruth blurble, treading water blurble, a big blurble wave blurble, blurble."

    " I don’t want to be a burden to you, but I just worry . . ."

    If I had only known how to end that call my family might have made it to safety.

    Here is the same call using my foolproof techniques.

    "Hello mom.  This is an answering machine.  I can’t come to the phone, ever."

    "There’s a flood coming and you need to . . ."

    "Hello mom – what’s this about a flood?"

    "The dike broke and . . ."

    "Well I’ll let you go now. . ."

    "My dog is sick"

    At this point I pinch my nose and speak in a high voice.  "I’m sorry Mrs. Digby, but the party to whom you were speaking has lost his phone in the flood."

    "Is this directory assistance?" mom asks.

    With my nose still pinched, I say, "No, this is the emergency operator, and I am going to hang up now . . ."

    "Oh, the operator?  Can you give me my sister Rose’s new telephone phone number in Chico?"

    "I can’t give that information," my nose is really starting to hurt by this time.

    "She is not doing so well since her husband . . ."

    "Blurble blurble, blurble . . ."