Dial D for Dick

Years ago, I was a headhunter who recruited actuaries.

Proof positive of how much I
love being on the phone.

An actuary's work is a little like an accountant's, only snore-ier. They’re the ones who calculate probability of death and things like that and they often work for insurance companies.

I’ll preface this by saying that I was a bad recruiter; I was a very bad recruiter. I was such a bad recruiter that I spent less time at my desk than I did hiding in the ladies’ room. I lacked sales skills and I hated being on the phone, which I was, almost constantly, when I wasn’t in the bathroom – in other words: roughly half the day not counting my lunch and two coffee breaks.  

Worse was that the nature of my work, talking someone into quitting a job and hooking up with my client’s company, felt to me like stealing. Whenever I tracked down an actuary who qualified for a position I was looking to fill, got him on the phone and pitched the opportunity, I was nervous and awkward and couldn’t get the words out. I hated being a recruiter.

One day, I dragged my sorry carcass onto the phone for another day of telephonic misery. I was trying to reach a man by the name of Dick Smith (I’m making up the last names but the Dicks were real) and called into the company where the phone was answered by a receptionist.

“Hello,” I said as nonchalantly as possible, “May I speak with Dick Smith?”

"Just a moment," she said before transferring my call. Seconds later a man answered.   

           

“Dick here.”

           

I introduced myself, rising above the knots in my stomach then launched into the details of the job. I must’ve prattled on for three minutes straight with Dick listening politely, asking an occasional question, then allowing me to continue. When I finally shut up, he said, “That sounds like a terrific career move, but you're looking for Dick Smith and I'm Dick Jones. Hang on while I transfer you.”

           

Instantly my stomach resurrected my breakfast and I began catastrophizing the horrible end now awaiting Dick Smith and his family: rumors flying that he talks to headhunters, his boss firing him and his wife divorcing him. What felt like hours was just seconds before a husky, elegant female voice cut in: “Mr. Smith’s office; this is Phyllis.”

“Hello, Phyllis. I called in a few minutes ago and asked to speak with Dick Smith – you know him, he’s your boss." Of course she knew that Dick Smith was her boss. “Anyway, I called in and asked for him, but somehow I was transferred over to Dick Jones and must have talked to him for almost five minutes before he told me that he wasn’t Dick Smith at all, but was actually Dick Jones. So anyway, it was just a bit of a mix-up and I’m hoping you can help me, because you see, it turns out that after all that talking, I'd totally gotten hold of the wrong Dick.”

There was an exquisitely timed pause before Phyllis, cool as an April breeze, replied, “A mistake any woman could make.”

I’m happy to say that I’m no longer an actuarial recruiter but I have no idea what happened to either Dick after that.

They probably work for Phyllis now.

           

To a Few of the Gentlemen on OKCupid

Dear Gentlemen:

Man with the Twitchy Mustache by 

Teece Aronin. Available on products at

redbubble.com/people/phylliswalter. 

Thank you all so very much for taking the time to "view," "like," "favorite," etcetera my profile and for all your lovely messages.

Since each of you was memorable in your own way, I am writing this letter in an effort to acknowledge the unique impression each of you made on me.

First, to God'sGift, no, Heaven isn't missing an angel, but I'm flattered that you thought it might be. Hell might be short one little devil, though, you little devil, you. ;-D

And Iamblessed451, thank you for saying that if there was anything in this world that God took His time creating, it was the perfection of my beauty. Actually, I think He spent no more than a few minutes whipping me up and if you saw me first thing in the morning, you'd think so, too.

To CarnivoreYum who wrote: "Oh yes, you are meaty where I like it," believe it or not, I wasn't thinking of you when I threw all that junk in my trunk mindlessly eating my way through last winter. But if it works for you, it works for me. 

Howfine69: I liked the way you didn't beat around the bush when all your message said was: "have sex with me?" You didn't even waste time capitalizing the H. Very swift, bold move, 69, but I'm afraid it still missed because, well, your message kind of creeped me out.  

And speaking of creeped out . . .

KittyLiquor - While it would be mice to meet you, too, I really must pass. My cat gets crazy jealous, and whenever that happens, she throws up in my shoes. But thank you.

James: While your message was charming, I was a little confused when your picture was of a beautiful young woman. I think that in your rush to scam me, you neglected to switch out the female profile photo with one of a man. But don't be embarrassed, James; that kind of thing happens to scammers all the time. It must be hard keeping track of all the little details, like if your scam target is a man or a woman. If I'm wrong, and you really are a beautiful young woman named James, please accept my apology, and know that if I were wired a little differently, I would definitely go out with you. In other words, it's not you, it's me.

I still have more of you to thank and in the meantime, I'm sure others of you will step forward with your own unique ways of sweeping a girl off her feet.

But until then, buzz off -

T