Hold on, Margie, I need to baste the butt roast.
But when I was a kid an extension phone was a pretty big deal. To hear my father tell it paying Ma Bell for a second phone would have financially ruined us. Of course, to hear my father tell it pretty much everything was going to financially ruin us. I was the kid wearing the factory second outlet jeans with the fly sewn shut and the 10 for 5 dollar Englebert Humperdinck t-shirts missing the letter N in his last name.
Oh, but get us in a $6.95 buffet and it was on. Pops had a strategy: “Skip the salad and the bread. They want you to fill up on the cheap stuff. That’s where they get you.” So it was straight to the proteins, and we ate them until we were praying for sweet, sweet death. I still can’t walk past a buffet without getting a stomachache.
What was I talking about? Phones. Here’s a lady who apparently is about to eat a bowl of cookies with a spoon taking a phone call on her new extension phone. You’re welcome.