(grandpa -135)
I can just see my grandfather grinding his quill pen to bits because it scratched. He must have felt the way I feel when I slam down the telephone and I do it often, too often.
I wonder how many quill pens he "smithered"?
My telephone is lying in little bits on my desk. Shattered. Me too.
And when I remember how we suffered those few years in the early '50's before we got a phone. With nostalgia. No wrong numbers. No busy signals. No number 16. And no telephone men!
Conversations are getting more and more difficult.
"Look, Grace, decide if you want to speak English or Hebrew but not both. It's impossible to understand you."
But I hadn't spoken Hebrew - not a single word. I merely said that if they wanted a lift to Jerusalem, I was going up on Wednesday. "Wednesday to Jerusalem" I cut the explanation to the bone.
"No, we won't see them till next week."
Clearly, there was something wrong with the phone. I gave up on Jerusalem.
I carefully dialed "16"
High E,, vibrato. Even the 1 is in use.
I tried again "16"
Again the double beat, remorseless and neurotic. Busy.
Finally, the smooth tattoo of connection. The click of the receiver raised.
"Yes?" a what-are-you-bothering-me- for yes!
All right - so I was his 150th complaint of the day. "My telephone is out of order. Nobody can understand me!"
"Lady, Don't you know Hebrew?
It was Hebrew. American accent maybe but Hebrew, grammar and all. That's just it! Nobody can understand what I am saying on the telephone in any language.
"What's your number"? He hadn't tried to understand. The tired exasperation with idiot customers was not to be borne but I answered.
"67951"
"What?"
"six seven nine five one"
"Six eight nine three one"
"No - 67951"
Do I understand! Does he understand? That's the whole trouble. The idiot! I slammed down the receiver.
Later, in a calmer mood, I wrote to the telephone company, repair department.
A week later, he arrived, a straw hat on his head, "Where's the telephone?"
He took some things apart. He put them together again." The trouble is in the central office", he announced. He left.
At 5:00 PM I got a call from central
"67951?"
"Yes, but
"Good, your line is now in order. Click"
I was pleased to hear that and I slept soundly that night. You can imagine my surprise when telephone man number 2 appeared on the scene at 8:15 the following morning.
"But your man fixed it yesterday!"
"You Hollander? he asked ,tersely
"I gotta fix your phone..."Aggressively, he showed me the written order. I showed him the phone.
He dialed a number. I waited. I heard.
"Yitzchak? Let me speak to Yitzchak!, Yitzchak!"
At last, the telephone company would know what I meant!
He was getting disgusted.
"She doesn't understand you. I tried to help him. That's the trouble with the phone."
But he was yelling, "Yitzchak! Yitzchak at the top of his lungs.
He slammed the receiver. Those telephone operators are so stupid", he muttered loudly to himself. To me he said, "The trouble is in the outside line. I have to come back with a helper."
I had to reach my lawyer and quick, that morning!" I dialed his number. Busy, of course.
I hung up and waited. "What number are you?"
"Well, you're not what I wanted either," I hung up
I did get my number after that I admit it, I got the number.
"Mrs. Hollander calling. You wanted my brother's cable address in Paris? he's at the H hotel" At that moment the front doorbell rang. A telephone man! I "just-a-minuted" him and rushed back to the phone.
"H hotel!, "H" like in Hollander.
My eyes lighted on the waiting telephone man. Maybe he would be helpful. "Would you listen," I asked him. You might help him find the trouble."
"There's a short circuit in the box" he told me crossly" And I can't fix it if you're talking into it."
The nerve! And how did he know about the short circuit?
"I didn't expect you to fix the telephone while I was talking." My voice was cold but there was fire in my eyes - "And at least you could be polite!"
"You don't have to tell me to be polite," he snarled.
"I don't have to tell you anything, In fact, I don't even have to look at you. Will you please leave." He picked up his tools and fled.
I wrote another letter to the telephone
company. I began to enjoy the morning visits of the telephone company men and I missed them after
one finally discovered that a new mouthpiece is what was needed.