Wednesday, April 16, 2008

The 10 o'clock rule.

"Hu-hullo." I stammered out my first words this morning whilst still in a dead sleep.

My ears are assaulted with a far-too-cheerful, "Hi! Is Albert there?"

"He's sleeping. He just got home from nightshift."

"Ok, I wasn't sure what shift he was on. This is [blank] [blank]" (He said his name. My mind inserted expletives.) "I'm a friend of his. I just called to chat. No biggy."

Now, I'd have to say he's not that close of a friend if he thought there'd be even a remote chance that Albert, no matter what shift he's on, would be up and looking forward to chatting about nothing in particular at 7:40 in the frigging morning.

7:40! Someone called to chat at 7:40 in the morning. I hope this chat meant someone died or else your house is on fire. There is no other excuse for it. Didn't your mother ever teach you the 10 o'clock rule? You don't phone before 10am. You don't phone after 10pm, unless you've been given specific approval to do so.

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