What happens when polly goes out with the wrong head on.

On Thursday a hairdresser from LittleSplat called the Bugsplat Visitor Centre to ask if we knew a Ms X.'s telephone number. A Ms X. of Bugsplat. We didn't. We didn't know Ms X. either. And we wouldn't have given Ms X.'s phone number out unless we knew Ms X. well enough to know that that would be a just totally okay thing to do anyway, but I digress.

A few minutes later another LittleSplat hairdresser called the Bugsplat Visitor Centre to give us a right telling off for daring to call ourselves local (err,... we didn't) and not know Ms. X. and for not giving the first hairdresser Ms X.'s telephone number. At this point we had a brain wave. She must have the wrong number! We said;
"Do you know who you're talking to? Do you know this is the Bugsplat Visitor Centre?"
Ouch.

Yes, apparently this was no wrong number. When she finally paused for breath I managed to squeak something about having other customers to deal with, and after thanking her for her parting remarks (insightful comment about my general lack of professionalism) I said goodbye.

I know it's ludicrous. But it was first thing in the morning and I'd been feeling so cheerful so the contrast was sharp. I tried to bounce back from it all morning but I didn't actually feel okay until I came home from bellydancing and boxing (on Thursdays I do a beginner's class for an hour before boxing starts now; it's a good warm up) to find that my darling had made me dinner. That was last night.

And now, it's Friday. Ostensibly a day off. We had some chores on our list, nothing horrible; laundry, tidy, return a book to Lanie. But it's hard to have a day away from the job when everyone and their black labrador has an opinion on the job. Calypso liked Lanie's labrador's opinion best. He seemed to think jobs in general a crock and that more time ought to be spent scratching him behind his ears and saying 'good dog'. Lanie and Zac were out and so we went to town to find them at the restruant instead where Calypso got thoroughly confused and upset because Zac wanted to talk to Trouble about the Great Fundraiser instead of to Calypso about how cute the Labrador was.

It took a whole five minutes for Trouble to show up, and by that time Calypso had already cornered us all by her evasive and distracting answers to questions she didn't understand and we found ourselves wringing our hands and feeling worried and sad. It's okay. Not huge. Just what happens when we go out with the wrong head on. Poor Calypso. She was only there because the business owner is also a dancer. If we had a badge on (like that fantastic Nicholas Kingsley invention) that changed like a moonstone to say "Calypso" (subtext: let's talk colours, dance and fairies!) and "Trouble" (let's not, but how about we talk pricing policy) ... well, I guess that would come with it's own set of problems.

Now we've been de-briefing about it. How to handle it better next time. We've come up with a line for Calypso;
"Oh, SORRY! I left my work brain behind today! Maybe you could talk to me on Monday?"

but it's crap, isn't it? It just looks like evasion, which in a way it is.

But what can we say? The truth is impossible.

"I've never heard of the Great Fundraiser. I'm sorry you seem to expect me to remember something I said last Thursday. Could you please wait until Trouble is here."

Nope. That won't do either.

Calypso did our usual thing (desperately send for help via the usual corridors, but see, having the "day off" thing going on, Trouble was fast asleep in the dungeon) and smile and nod and make distracting comments and try to keep 'em busy with sidetracks until help (Trouble) had time to arrive. You know, all the usual deceitful and desperate strategies that we've employed our whole lives to conceal our multiplicity and to present as a single person. She did fine. We got out of there okay. It was just so sad and stupid and false and we really wish we didn't have to do it.

And we came home and cried and cried and cried.