Phone Convo

"Where do I work? Well, that's such a loaded question. I'm a "graduate." I have several alma maters. I have several daughters. I'm a member of C.L.A.Y. - Capital Letters Association (YOUTH). It's open to young acronym enthusiasts everywhere. I'm 42 years old. The thing about C.L.A.Y. is it's malleable. Pottery is more than just a hobby to me. Without pottery I couldn't have ever built my granaries, for one thing. My third daughter was conceived in a grain elevator, but I thought of the idea of conceiving her long before - at a C.L.A.Y. meeting, actually. That was in Denver in 1975. I'm actually way older than 40. But it's rude to ask a woman's age. In fact, it seems like you are really trying to get a lot of information out of me."

"Um, I just wanted to know if you'd be interested in a health insurance plan that offers cheap dental-"

"My teeth are just fine, thank you. The only plaque I have is on my living room wall, it says "'Molder of C.L.A.Y.' - participant, 1938-2013."

"Jesus, how old are you?"

"I refuse to answer that question, you little shit. In fact, I have half a mind to report you to the authorities. Back in my day, if you even raised your voice to a C.L.A.Y. counselor you'd get gutted like a fish, and scalped like an injun - oh, it looks like he hung up. Well, I suppose it's time for my dentist's appointment anyway..."