Today I have a story I’d like to tell you. It eventually ties in to my job search, but you’ll have to be patient.

Back at where I used to work, my direct line was only one digit difference from the front desk phone number for a hospital in town. I used to get phone calls meant for the hospital probably twice a month. At first I didn’t get what was going on. After a while, though, I figured out the number people meant to be calling and would tell them they had misdialed.

More often than not, though, this caused more problems. I think people who are calling the hospital aren’t thinking logically and aren’t prepared to hear that they need to hang up and dial again. What they are prepared for, though, is to argue about billing or demand to be transferred to a certain surgeon or to the emergency room.

I can’t even count the number of times I started saying, "You dialed the wrong number; you need to call…" only to be cut off by something like, "Don’t you dare tell me to call another number! You get the right person for me now!"

And then one day it came to me. It was easier to connect them to the right number than it was to convince them they dialed the wrong number. So, whenever I got a call from someone who wanted the hospital, I’d say, very tersely, "Hold while I connect you," and then I’d put them on hold, call the number they meant to dial, mute my phone, and then conference them in while the hospital phone was still ringing.

This did have one downside. I had to stay on the call for its duration; if I hung up, the connection would be broken. But neither the hospital nor the patient realized I was still on the phone, so it was like I wasn’t there.

I’ll tell you this much: I heard some angry, sad, funny, weird, scary and downright pathetic shit during those calls. I could write a very interesting topical blog about nothing but those calls, but I won’t because they were private.

Anyway, I noticed that one old man with a very distinct voice started calling often, probably every other week. He sounded like he had false teeth: sloppy fricatives. His voice warbled, like he was a sadder version of Jimmy Steward. He’d usually say about the same thing when I answered with my standard "Harlan here."

"Izh zhish zhe hoshpital?"

"Hold and I’ll connect you."

The thing is, he didn’t even need to be calling. Every time he called, it was to verify that an appointment he already had was still on. And yes, it always was.

One time, I tried to end it by saying, "You’re dialing the wrong number" when he called.

"Can’t be!" he replied, with sad confidence. "Itch on my shpeed dzial!"

Well, that explains it.

Sometimes I wonder who’s taking those calls now (assuming they’ve recycled my extension, which I’m assuming they have), and how that person’s handling them.

Now we’re to the part where I tie this back to what’s going on in my job hunt. Today, I got my first phone call from the company where I interviewed. It was a woman, not the HR guy I talked to when I was there. Maybe these reference checking things are outsourced? She was calling one of the personal references I had given. I gave my assurances that Harlan was a friendly fellow with a steady hand and a song in his heart.

After this call ended, my second personal references number came up. I answered, "Hello?"

But I didn’t answer in my voice. Instead, I used the one impression I’m good at: the old man who used to call, needing the hospital.

As far as I know, it went great.

On a related note, I have an interview set up with a different company for next Tuesday.