mixup
Dora in Receiving
calls me and says, "i have
a package here for
Jeffrey Chariot
and my list has this
number for you. are you
expecting a package?"
"my name's Jeremiah
Chariot," i tell
her, "not Jeffrey Chariot."
"yeah, so are you
expecting a package?"
"i'm Jeremiah Chariot not
Jeffrey Chariot," i say again.
then i add, "Jeffrey Chariot
works in the Toledo plant.
they mistake me for Jeffrey
all the time."
"so you're not expecting
a package then?"
Dora says, sounding as
if she might finally be
understanding me.
"i'm not expecting a thing,"
i say, "except another
eleven cent annual raise
and eventually crippling
arthritis from all of this
repetitive work."
Dora pauses then
says, "so this
package isn't yours?"
deflated that my attempts
at humor were unsuccessful
and that i was ultimately
unable to get through to her,
i simply say, "no it's not
mine, sorry," and hang up.
but i bet if i were Jeffrey
Chariot, she'd understand
me perfectly well
and would find me
irresistibly hilarious.
instead, i am only myself.
so i turn back to
my machines and
work on that arthritis.
the eleven cent annual
raise will come
regardless.
-published in Nerve Cowboy #13