Dear contract employee. Don’t be a rude asshat. Thanks.

Setting: Sunny office day.  Birds are chirping, computers are typing.
Cast:
Me – Diligent, cordial office employee
Caller, ie Richard Nixon – Contract employee who lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere, but who calls approximately 3 times a day and refers to himself in the third person. Always.

Ring ring!
Me: Good afternooon, how may I help you?
Caller (ie, Richard Nixon): Hi. Yeah. Um, that guy, your Vice President, is trying to fax something to Richard Nixon, and it is NOT coming through. It is 32 pages and ONLY the first 2 pages came through!
Me: Ooookaaaayyy. Would you like to speak with our Vice President then?
Caller (ie, Richard Nixon): Well, er, er, er, I mean, I GUESS, I mean, it’s just NOT coming through.
Me: [Brief-to-long pause] Okay. I’m sorry, I’m not near the fax machine.
Caller (ie, Richard Nixon): Well, maybe YOU’RE the reason it’s not coming through!!
Me: [Loooooong pause, wherein I contemplate whether or not he’s joking, decide he’s not, and then ponder an unoffensive response while simultaneously staring with mouth agape] But… sir, I’m NOT near the fax machine?
Caller (ie, Richard Nixon): Oh, you’re NOT? Well, FINE. Sigh. Yeah, I GUESS I’ll talk to that guy, the Vice President, then.
Me: [Resists hanging up on his rude ass, and transfers to the Vice President]

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