“Hello, Mrs. Alan?” says the male voice on the other end of the phone, twinged in a southern accent.
“Yes, this is she.” reply I.
“We’re on 77 South and would like directions to your house to deliver your new furniture.” he says.
Puzzled, I replied, “77 South? I’m sorry, I don’t know where that is.”
“Um. You don’t?”
“No. Sorry. I can give you directions from 78 though.”
“Uh, 78? Ma’am, we’re on 77 South near Beckley, WV.” he says to me, like I’m some nitwit.
I reply, again, that I am unfamiliar with that road.
“What’s you’re address again?” he asks.
I give it to him. He replies, “That’s not what we have for you.”
Well no duh, I think to myself.
“Uh, sir. I live in southeastern PENNSYLVANIA! One hour north of [insert major metropolis] not West Virginia.” I scratch my head, heave a heavy sigh. “I guess I won’t be getting my furniture today by 3:00 p.m.?”
Though the words never passed his lips, I could read his mind like a ticker tape, “Aw s***.”
“Ma’am, someone will be in touch….”
…and the cell phone connection was lost…two hours ago.