On any ordinary work day, there are a number of people in my office who answer the company phone. There’s an actual person who is assigned to answer the phone when he is present and not otherwise occupied, and when he is not around, somebody else usually picks up the phone. In my three months of working here, that person has been me only a handful of times, each of which resulted in mild panic as I tried to determine what to do with the caller. I’d leap up from my desk, run into my coworkers office, gasp that so-and-so was calling for so-and-so, and then beg for instructions on how to respond.
In the past few weeks, I have gotten better at learning how to handle calls, but nothing had prepared me for today. I got to work and looked at the interoffice calendar, only to discover that I would be alone in the office for a good part of the day. Alone. In the office. Without anybody. While the phone rings.
The phone started ringing with a vengeance shortly after my arrival; coworkers called to check in, clients called for assistance, and rude people demanded to know if I had the authority to make purchases on behalf of my company. (Yes, but only if you’re calling from Nigeria and looking to send me products via your courier.) Each ring made my heart race with anxiety; do I transfer the call to the recipient’s voicemail or cell phone? Do I announce the call on the cell phone first, or do I just transfer it? What if I misdirect or disconnect the person and ruin my company forever? MY GOD, THE RINGING. MAKE IT STOP.
Just as my Pavlovian response was fully cemented, causing me to stop breathing and start peeing at the first ring, my boss came into the office unexpectedly. Now it’s her and I, trapped alone together in an otherwise silent office. When the phone rings, she will know if I don’t answer it, which means that I now have to tell her every time I leave the office to use the restroom or get coffee. And that’s great, because nothing says professional like stepping out to go poop.