The company for which I work is named Kise, Straw & Kolodner. It's not a particularly nifty name, I'll grant you, but no one ever calls it that. We say "KSK," which is a lot easier to say, and takes up less space on our tee-shirts.
Nonetheless, if you were to look us up, on say the internet or even in a for-real phone book, we are listed as "Kise, Straw & Kolodner." This is an important part of this fascinating story, so bear with me.
Moments ago, the telephone in my laboratory rang. (I like to call it a "laboratory," and never a "lab," because it sounds much more like I'd have beakers and evil experiments that way. ) I answered the telephone, as I always do, with my secretery pitch -- "Good afternoon, Kise, Straw & Kolodner." I say it with a raised note at the end, like it's a question and not a statement. (I like to keep the clients guessing, is it really Kise, Straw & Kolodner? Or just an evil laboratory?)
The man on the other end said the most brilliant thing I've ever heard. He said this: "Do you sell straw there?"
Wow. Just, wow. We have here a gentleman literate enough to open up a phone book and search for the word "straw," albeit out of context, but NOT literate enough to follow through to the words "archaeological services" tacked on the end. We have here someone smart enough to transfer numbers from a page to the actual telephone, and patient enough to wait for it to ring, but NOT smart enough or patient enough to look at the words surrounding this oh-so-needed "straw" and question what the hell a "kolodner" or a "kise" might be, and why a would-be straw store would carry them.
Even more perplexing, when I informed him that no, in fact, we do not carry straw here, he got a little mad, and informed me that our name, was indeed, "Kise, STRAW & Kolodner."
I wish I could tell you this was the first time this has happened, but sadly, it is the second.
Nonetheless, if you were to look us up, on say the internet or even in a for-real phone book, we are listed as "Kise, Straw & Kolodner." This is an important part of this fascinating story, so bear with me.
Moments ago, the telephone in my laboratory rang. (I like to call it a "laboratory," and never a "lab," because it sounds much more like I'd have beakers and evil experiments that way. ) I answered the telephone, as I always do, with my secretery pitch -- "Good afternoon, Kise, Straw & Kolodner." I say it with a raised note at the end, like it's a question and not a statement. (I like to keep the clients guessing, is it really Kise, Straw & Kolodner? Or just an evil laboratory?)
The man on the other end said the most brilliant thing I've ever heard. He said this: "Do you sell straw there?"
Wow. Just, wow. We have here a gentleman literate enough to open up a phone book and search for the word "straw," albeit out of context, but NOT literate enough to follow through to the words "archaeological services" tacked on the end. We have here someone smart enough to transfer numbers from a page to the actual telephone, and patient enough to wait for it to ring, but NOT smart enough or patient enough to look at the words surrounding this oh-so-needed "straw" and question what the hell a "kolodner" or a "kise" might be, and why a would-be straw store would carry them.
Even more perplexing, when I informed him that no, in fact, we do not carry straw here, he got a little mad, and informed me that our name, was indeed, "Kise, STRAW & Kolodner."
I wish I could tell you this was the first time this has happened, but sadly, it is the second.
. 