I know it's not April Fool's Day. Yet. Maybe I'm on an episode of Punk'd?
Yesterday's phone call:
Hi, this is Debbie.
Hi Debbie. I'm looking to hire a personal chef but have a very specific requirement.
No problem. I can handle your special dietary needs, medically restricted diets or picky children. Bring it on.
Note to self ~ NEVER say Bring it on again!
Well... we really don't have any special dietary requirements and the children will eat anything we put in front of them. No, this is more about our house rule.
Uh, OK. What is the house rule?
We never wear shoes in the house and we require everyone who enters to remove his shoes also.
Well, does the garage enter into the laundry room and/or kitchen so that I won't be walking on your carpet?
No, you don't understand. We do not allow shoes anywhere in the house.
Dead silence on my end.
Hello? Are you there?
OK. Let me get this straight. You want me to schlep in heavy boxes of equipment, work on a hard kitchen floor all day without any type of foot support and, let's not forget, work with razor sharp knives that I could drop onto MY unprotected feet and toes or carry heavy pots of boiling water that I could easily spill when I slip on something because I don't have my non~skid shoes on? That type of "we don't allow shoes anywhere in the house" rule?
What I said: I'm sorry but I'm not the personal chef you're looking for. Good luck, though. I hope there's someone out there who can help you.
What I wanted to say: Have they let all the kooks out of Kookville today? Are you freaking nuts? How much insurance do you have because when I drop my chef's knife and chop off a few of MY toes, I intend to develop a very intimate relationship with your insurance adjuster!
Kooks in Kookville. That's a good one ~ I gotta remember that one!
Note to self ~DO NOT answer the phone on April Fool's Day!
I need another martini!