Last Call of the Day

Fridays around here are either eerily quiet, like a library, or a whirlwind of meeting, copyedit, meeting, writing, another meeting, etc. Today was the latter. The busyness makes the day fly by like a fully flighted cockatiel.

In between running back and forth between my office and the MAC stations (where the magazine is laid out), I had a couple of messages from a lady saying “Call me.” So we played a game of phone tag. Each subsequent call came in as a vague “call me.” I’ve learned through the years that the last call on a Friday, when you’re itching to head home for the weekend, has a tendency to be the one you’d rather take on Monday.

I took a deep breath and dialed the number. Turns out, she was visiting out of town, forgot her issue of BIRD TALK and needed someone to look up a Show Calendar listing for her so she could get to the bird fair. I was happy to oblige. After all the hurriedness of the day, it was nice to help a bird-person in need.

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