Saturday, December 15, 2007

Cold call


A confession here: Until age eleven or so, I was friggin' terrified of telephones. You couldn't pay me to dial one. Until I was about seven or eight, the thought of even speaking into one was nigh unthinkable. Somewhere around 1968 or so I did manage to get my act together so I could call my friends.

As with the man who got polymorphed into a newt in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, "I got better." Did switchboard stuff and reception, and actually developed a rather pleasant telephone manner.

But it's still nerve-wracking to just pick up the telephone and call a complete stranger.

On my morning coffee break as I sat reading the paper, I noticed a want ad from an agency specializing in the medical field. I didn't want the job they had to offer, but I do want to be considered as a candidate for Bigger, Better Things.

So I called, mentioned where I'd heard of the company, and obtained a contact name for resumé-sending.

Which means that I'll soon be using my word processor for something other than NaNoWriMo. What a bizarre concept...

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