THE AUTOMATED ATTENDANT

Moe tried to contact a local retailer via telephone. With his phone on speaker mode, this is what happened.

“Thank you for calling __. For English, press 1.”
1.

“For sales, press 1 or say, sales. For parts and repair, press 2 or say, parts and repair. To schedule an appointment, press 3 or say, make an appointment. To change or cancel an existing appointment…”
Parts and repair.

“I’m sorry. I did not understand your response. For sales, press 1 or say, sales. For parts and repair, press 2 or say, parts and repair. To schedule an appointment…”
Parts and repair.

“Are you calling to schedule an appointment?”
No.

“I’m sorry. I did not understand your response. For sales, press 1 or say, sales. For parts and repair, press 2 or say, parts…”
2.

“I’m sorry. I did not understand your response. For sales, press 1 or say, sales. For parts and repair…”
2.

“I’m sorry. I did not understand your response. For sales, press 1 or say…”
@#$%^&*!

“To return to the main menu press 7.”
0.

“To return to the main menu press 7.”
0.

“To end this call, you may hang up now.”
Dial tone.
Sometimes, you really need a live operator.

Copyright © (2010) Diana (Diane) Maria

RISE AND FLY

Moe is a card shark with a good mind for numbers and a cutting edged tongue. I always looked forward to a good game of cards with him – that is, until last week.

I was contacted by a new acquaintance who extended an invitation to her home insisting that Moe accompany me. I accepted her call to join her soiree which included the games Bridge and Whist. She told me there would be no money involved as her guests play “only for fun”.

Nobody stirs a more rousing game of cards better than Moe. And Moe loves to play for cash. I have been Moe’s card partner since we met at the neighborhood’s first block party. And we have never lost a game of ‘Rise and Fly’ in which the losing team must leave the table and is replaced by ‘fresh meat’. Moe talks a lot of trash at the table – partly in jest but mostly to jar his opponents. In the end, no one leaves with hurt feelings and a good time is had by all. But that is when he plays at home amongst people who know him.

I was concerned that a new and unsuspecting crowd would not accept Moe’s candor as readily as his family and friends. So while we drove toward the party, I repeatedly told Moe there will be no gambling and no ‘trash talking’. I told him to treat these new people as he would like them to treat him. Moe mumbled something in agreement. But I had a feeling he wasn’t taking in all I was saying.

We arrived at the house and the hostess greeted us as we entered. From an adjoining room, several card games had already begun and the gamers were so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Moe and I realized immediately this was unlike any ‘Rise and Fly’ we’d ever attended.

We sat down to play with a young and handsome couple. Moe introduced us and asked the female opponent her name. “My name is Tova.” She said. Moe said to her as the cards were being dealt, “You don’t look like a Tova to me. You look more like a Sue.” Our opponents laughed. And I kicked Moe beneath the table. Moe shouted – not to anyone in particular, “Are ya ready to get your feelin’s hurt?!”

Throughout the game, Moe spat his usual prattle. At one point, he shouted to me, “Follow my lead! You know better! If I lead with a diamond, you play a diamond!” Tova’s partner scolded Moe for “talking across the table”. Moe said to him, “She has a hand full of diamonds and she didn’t follow my lead!” Tova explained to Moe the rules of the game include silence between partners. Moe said, “Suzie Q! Don’t get too comfortable in your chair ’cause you’ll be leaving soon.” And I kicked him. We won that round. And soon there were onlookers watching us play. Moe continued to talk trash and occasionally he’d yell, “Hey Suzie Q! Come on back just one more ‘gain!” And I’d kick him.

After 9 rounds of non-stop play, Moe and I took a break. Our table was empty but there were other games still ongoing. I decided to go to the ladies room and I left Moe in the dining room where food was served buffet style.

While I was roaming to and fro and mingling here and there, Tova stopped me and said, “Diahhn, your father is calling me Sue but my name is Tova.” I said to her, “I’m sorry Tova. He means no harm. I’ll remind him not to do so.” I added, “He is not my father.” Tova said to me in a snippy tone, “He is your boyfriend?” I said, “Listen Suzie” But before I could finish that thought by giving her a ‘what for’, I heard Moe’s voice echoing from the game room. “Put your money where your mouth is!” He was shouting. “Put it up! Or shut it up!” I pressed through throngs of party people to get into that room. I saw him. After repeatedly stating to Moe, in the car, over and again, “Do not gamble.” there he was – gambling.

I shouted to him, “Moe what are you doing?” He replied, “With all of these grown-ups in this house, I knew there must be somebody who could count to twenty one.”

Blackjack?! He was playing Blackjack with Suzie’s Tova’s date. (Or maybe the guy was her father – I’m not sure.)

I was hovering over Moe and telling him it was time to leave when Suzie’s Tova’s boyfriend said in the thickest of accents, “Meester Moe, I yahm not plahying for keeps.” Moe said to him, “Aw, don’t start cryin’ ’cause you’ve just lost your lunch money.”

I snapped at Moe, “Get up right now and let’s go!” And Suzie’s dad/man kept repeating, “Meester Moe!”

The car didn’t seem to move fast enough on the way home. I was fuming – mostly at myself for having lost my temper with Suzie. I wasn’t really mad at Moe who was busy counting his money. He turned to me whilst I was driving and said, “Well, if mister man didn’t wanna play, he shouldn’t have accepted my challenge.” (Moe was right.) He continued, “I don’t know why you’re so mad. You don’t know those folks anyway.” (Right again.)

It seemed to take us forever to get home. My husband was in the driveway when we pulled up. “Did you two have a good time?” He asked. Moe got out of the car and shouted, “I had a ball! I’ll tell ya all about it in the morning.” Moe went home. My husband looked at me and said, “I think I’m gonna hear about it tonight.”
(He was right.)

Copyright © (2010) Diane

THE RUNAWAY SNOWMAN

It was garbage day and I was the only one at home so it became my duty to take the trash to the curb.

I was dragging two large trash cans down my driveway when Moe approached me and pointed at something in the street. I looked toward the direction in which he was pointing and I saw what seemed to be a giant ball bouncing down the street away from us. Moe yelled, “Do you see that?”
“Yes I see it but what is it?” I asked.

Moe said…
“It’s that big assed ball from that house up there.” (He gestured toward a neighboring home uphill from us that sits in the bend of the winding road.)
Moe continued…
“Didn’t you see that giant snow globe they staked in the yard ‘fore Christmas?”
I said, “Is that the holiday decoration with the snowman inside?” Moe replied…
“It sure is! It must’ve broke free and rolled away. And that thing is pickin’ up speed ’cause it’s goin’ downhill. Now it’s gonna kill somebody who’s drivin’ uphill in this direction and don’t know it’s comin’ right at ‘em.”

I dropped my garbage cans and told Moe we have to tell somebody. “Tell who?” He shouted. “You think those folks in that house don’t know it’s missin’? That ball cast a shadow over their whole front facade. The daylight alone should tell ‘em somethin’.”

“Moses we have to tell someone right now!” I shouted. And I ran up the hill toward the house. Moe was behind me.

I was knocking on the door when Moe caught up to me. “Look at this!” He shouted, pointing to the lawn decorations. “They went out and got a Santa Clause, blew him up and tied him to the bushes like he stole somethin’. All this ‘blow-up’ stuff’s got nothin’ to do with Christmas and now it’s causin’ havoc in the community.”

No one responded to my knocking. Moe said, “They’re in there and they know what they’ve done. So now, they don’t wanna come out and face the music.”

The recycling truck drove up and I attempted to tell the driver to call someone to stop that ball but Moe beat me to it. Moe yelled to the man, “Did you see that big assed ball down the street? Radio dispatch and tell ‘em these folks in this house are the culprits!” (Moe was pointing at the house.) He continued, “Call the cops and tell ‘em these folks outta be dragged out here and shackled to the shrubbery just like they did Santa Clause!” The driver looked at me. “He’s not my dad.” I muttered. Moe said, “He don’t care whose your daddy!”

The driver told us (and these are his exact words) “The snow globe has been restrained. The snow man was uninjured and is still in containment. The globe is now on route to the village hall.”

I walked home. Alone.
For some reason, I was mad at Moe.
Behind me, I could hear Moe yelling…

“They took that globe to the village hall for evidence! They may need witnesses! That’d be us! Go buy somethin’ new ’cause we’re gonna be in the papers!”

Sometimes I wish I didn’t know my neighbors.

Copyright © (2010) Diane

CHRISTMAS ON THE ROCKS

By now, both Thanksgiving and Christmas are gone (two down). But New Year’s Eve is fast approaching (and one to go). This holiday season has managed to flap my usually unflappable self. I never fly off the handle. I seldom lose my cool. But this year’s shopping, crowds, lines, relatives, co-workers and friends unearthed a fury buried deep within my soul. Before I let loose on all things visible, I decided to drown my emotions across the street at Moe’s.

As soon as I saw Moe, I could tell he was already swimming in the deep end of his vodka. (His wife is ‘wintering’ in Arizona with her children.) I asked Moe if he missed his family and he said if he ever sees any one of them again, it’d be too soon. He told me his oldest son is being sued for fraud, his daughter-in law is filing for divorce, his grand-son has been kicked out of his second private school and the kid’s mother is currently ‘home schooling’ him because no other school wants to take him, his grand-daughter decided college is not for her and dropped out and she came home with a boyfriend who says only fools work for a living. Moe admitted there were so much cussing and fighting going on at his Christmas table the only thing that kept him from going off on each one of his relations was the Stolichnaya Vodka Company.

Moe reached into the cabinet behind his bar to refill his glass. He suggested I join him and I requested a blueberry martini. He looked at me sideways and shouted, “Don’t be a sissy! All you need is rocks!” He tossed a couple of ice cubes in a glass and gave it to me. It wasn’t the dainty little drink they serve in restaurants and it certainly wasn’t blue. And Moe didn’t wash his hands before grabbing that ice and drenching it with booze. But if Moe could handle it…

“How many of these have you had?” I asked. Moe retorted…
“You don’t count the drinks kid. You count the bottles.”
I was drinking with a big dog and I didn’t even know how to bark.

Moe told me…
“I’ve been drinkin’ this stuff since before you were born. And this is the only booze I drink. You don’t want nothin’ else and you don’t want that Elite *#$% either. Those folks over at Stolichnaya slapped a new label on an old bottle, jacked up the price, called it Elite and laughed at the fools who bought it. But I know better. The old Stoli is all you need.”

I was thinking Moe could do a commercial for the vodka as long as he didn’t mention the Elite brand.

I envisioned Moe standing in a winter scene on a studio lot and when the director shouted, “Action!” Moe went off script and ripped the vodka for having created Elite.

I told Moe I was going home and invited him to come with me. He said…
“I have had enough family for one week. And there is no tellin’ what yours is like.” I started to tell Moe that my family could not top his unless they killed somebody. Instead, I said to him…

“It’s a good thing this season is only once a year.”

I could hear the ice tinkling in Moe’s glass when I left.

Copyright © (2009) Diane

THE NEW RECEPTIONIST

I accompanied Nezzie (Moe’s wife) to her doctor’s office where she was scheduled for a routine procedure. After our arrival, a young and pretty receptionist asked Nezzie to fill out a questionnaire. One of the questions was – Nearest Relative. Nezzie wrote – Walking Distance. The receptionist returned the form explaining the name of Nezzie’s nearest relative was required. At that, Nezzie said to her, “Well why didn’t you ask me ‘who’ is my relative instead of ‘where’ is my relative?”

I heard stifled giggles from the other patients.

After the forms were completed, (upon which Nezzie had written several times “How should I know?” When asked about her mother’s illnesses and her father’s illnesses.) I explained to the receptionist (who was obviously new to the job) all of the information she required was on the original form and the original form had not changed.

Well, here comes the kicker…

The receptionist left and returned once more. This time she asked Nezzie…
“Is your date of birth still the same?”

The words that followed that question are not fit to print. Nezzie may be old but her speech contains a lot of spice when its heated.

By now, the other patients in the room were rolling on the floor in laughter.

As a result of all of the commotion caused by Nezzie’s swearing and the other patients’ howls of laughter, we were ushered into an examining room.

I sat with Nezzie while a nurse went over the procedure with her. At one point, the nurse said to Nezzie…
“Inez, I’m going to come back and give you a bracelet.” Nezzie said…
“I hope it’s a diamond bracelet.”
The woman told her…
“It doesn’t have any diamonds, but it costs just as much.”

After having experienced that earlier exchange in the waiting room, this bit of levity was welcomed.

Copyright © (2009) Diane

G.I. MOE

It’s cold out today and I slipped on the ice that had frozen overnight on my porch steps. So I added – buy 1 bag of salt – to my list of things to do.

I was sprinkling salt (liberally) on every surface outside my house including parts of the lawn, when Moe shuffled across the street. (How he manages to stay upright on ice baffles me.) Moe shouted out to me upon his approach…

“I have to go to Brazil to get that baby back!”

Not wanting to engage in another of Moe’s cockamamie conversations, I ignored his remark and tilted the salt bag emptying the remainder of its contents onto my lawn which was now buried under a foot of snow. (Well, maybe not a foot of snow.)

Moe said, “Did you hear me?”

(I had been outside too long without gloves. By now, I could see my fingers but I couldn’t feel them.)

“Hi Moe.” I said. He continued…

“Those Brazilians got that baby down there and wont give him back to his daddy. Now I gotta go down there, get that kid and bring him back here myself.”

It took me a minute to realize that Moe was referring to a real life current event that was taking place even as he spoke.

http://www.cnn.com/brazilian.child.custody

I said to him, “Moses is your TV still on CNN? Do you ever change the channel? Do you even know how to change the channel?”

Today Moe was curiously lucid. He told me…”You know I used to do missions like this in my youth.” (I said ‘curiously’ lucid.)

He continued…

“Call the State Department and tell ‘em to come pick me up!” (I like how Moe thinks I have all of the ‘important’ numbers saved onto my phone.) I told Moe…

“Since you know those people from your missions and all, why don’t you call them yourself?”

“Don’t you get sassy with me.” He snapped. (I wasn’t getting sassy. I was turning blue.)

I said..”Moe, You watch too much TV and you should learn how to change the channels. Those people in Brazil don’t want to see you and that kid’s father is handling his own business. He can manage without you.”

I attempted to ascend my stairs on my hands and knees. I could feel the tiny rocks of salt pressing painfully into my knee caps and I am sure my hands would’ve been hurting – if I could have actually felt them.

Moe shouted at me as he turned to go back across the street…
“You call the government and tell them to get a plane ready! I’m gong to practice my Spanish.”

I told Moe, they don’t speak Spanish in Brazil. (Or maybe I simply thought I told him.)

I was thawing out my extremities and thinking about that man next door. I came to this conclusion. If I am ever stuck in a foreign country, don’t send Moe!

Copyright © (2009) Diane

THE ROGUE CAROLER

I think it was just after Halloween when I attended the community’s meeting about the formation of a choral group. The attendees were discussing the particulars of the group – volunteers, days of singing, beginning and ending sites – when Moe arrived. I was as surprised as everyone else to see Moe and wondered what he could or would contribute to the party.

The group of neighbors decided – by majority vote (sans me) – there will be a choral group traveling from house to house and singing to each family. A call for volunteers went out. That’s when Moe raised his hand. Nearly everyone in the room objected to Moe’s participation for various reasons. A woman explained that “it may be too cold for someone with advanced years to traverse the community on foot”. (That woman is older than my mother. So I wondered what she considered advanced years. I thought it an interesting example of one old person not wanting to call another old person old.) The neighbor who owns those Osage trees that litter my yard with fuzzy green balls every year suggested, “Moe should stay home so the carolers will have someone to sing to”. (I suggest he cut down those trees.) Anyway, it was decided by “unanimous decision” (They didn’t count me. I was only there to hear not volunteer. And they knew it.) Moe should stay home on the days the carolers are out so they can have somebody “to sing to”. Moe nodded his head in agreement. I was stunned. Moe sat there and let them swerve him without saying a word. Was he sick? Had his meds been miscalculated? Something was awry. I knew it. The Moe I know isn’t one to roll over.

This week, the snow rolled in. And the first day of snow marked the beginning of carol season. My doorbell rang about an hour ago. I opened the door and saw Moe standing on my porch – wind whipping wildly about his frame – and Moe was singing. Not singing a song ‘per se’. There was no rhyme, no melody, no real lyrics, but I knew in his mind he was singing. What he sang went something like this…

“Ho ho ho. Santa’s comin’. Ho ho ho. La da da da da. Ho ho ho. And Rudolph’s a very pretty bird.” I snapped, “Reindeer!” Moe said, “Shut up.” He continued, “Rudolph’s comin’ soon. Ho ho ho.” I said, “Moe you don’t know any carols do you?” In the distance, I could hear the harmonious sounds of the official carolers. And their holiday melodies were growing near. By now I had put it altogether. Moe let the community shut him out of their plan because he had a plan of his own. He was caroling two beats ahead of them – alone. He had gone rogue.

Moe turned toward the direction of the choir and listened. They were getting close. He said, “I gotta go!” and Moe scurried across my lawn to the neighboring home kicking up green furry balls from ‘neath the snow.

I pulled out my treasured bottle of egg nog. The one that has little egg and a lotta nog. I sit with a sip now and again awaiting Moe’s return. (He’ll be back.) I hope I’m still awake.

Thanks for the egg nog Nancy.

Copyright © (2009) Diane

TECHNOLOGY

I am revisiting this old story because it is one of those that receives the most mail. And to answer of all your questions, yes, my son is a filmmaker. (But that’s about all I know.) Yes, Moe is real and he does “talk like that”. And, of course, these stories are true. (Who can make this @#$%! up?) So, here we go back to when this all started…

One evening I talked my oldest son into visiting Moe. He said, “I hate going over there mom. That old man is crazy.” I told him, “He really likes you and he asks about you all the time. Go say, ‘Hi’ to him.” Later, my son returned home in a huff and shouted, “I’m never going over there again!”

As I understand it, this is what happened…
My son went across the street and told Moe all about his latest adventure and played a DVD of one of his recent journeys. He said Moe sat quietly throughout the movie. When it was over, my son asked Moe what he thought about it. And Moe said to him, “That red light never goes off does it?”

Copyright © (2009) Diane

MAKE A WISH

Well it’s Thanksgiving Day. And Moe and I got the wishbone.

I asked Moe what would he wish for if he could get whatever he wanted but no matter what he wished, his beautiful wife would get double. He said…

“I’d wish for a million dollars and to get beaten half to death.”

Copyright © (2009) Diane

GOOD MEDICINE

A while back, Moe was hospitalized. I’d heard his condition was “grim” so I paid him a visit. To get in to see him I told the staff I was his daughter. (I didn’t think telling them, “I am his neighbor.” would bear any weight.) In any case, I got to see him.

I smiled at Moe upon entering his room. He was in a sullen state of mind (so unlike Moe) and he refused to acknowledge my presence. I said not a word, opened my bag and retrieved my computer. I put my laptop on a table beside his bed and played a video. I sat on a chair in the far-side of the room and waited. Within two minutes time, I saw Moe burst into laughter. He shifted his body to get a clearer view of the screen. He was mesmerized by its images and sounds.

When the short video was complete, Moe asked me to play it again. We sat there – the two of us – all alone in his room, laughing and talking and watching the screen for what seemed like hours but it was only a few minutes.

We made so much noise, several nurses and a doctor rushed inside to see what was happening. They found me dancing and Moe sitting up in his bed cheering me on. He was back to his old self and the hospital staff was astounded (or they may have been mad – their reaction wasn’t easy to discern). A couple of days later, Moe returned home.

Moe says he will be forever grateful for my visit because unlike everyone else, I did not sit beside his bed and cry. Instead, I came armed with joy. (Moe didn’t say “joy”. He said, “You came in there with the damnedest shit.”)

They say laughter is the best medicine. And I know how to make Moe laugh. If you want to see the video that caused so much commotion in the hospital that day, just play the one below.

I know you will enjoy it. It is good medicine.

Update: Moe is up and around under his own steam and he has a new job (but that’s another story).

Copyright © (2009) Diane