Road rage gets the headlines and understandably so. In this day and age, inevitably someone with a short fuse or a vendetta will eventually blow a gasket and take it out on some other motorist on the road. Maybe it’s deserved, maybe it’s not. Whatever the circumstances, getting angry while driving and sitting behind the wheel of somethings that is a) heavy, b) capable of going fast and c) made of metal is a problem. The word tank comes to mind – especially when thinking about Volvos.
As an aside, a few years back I decide I needed to have an irrational pet peeve. I felt like too many of my dislikes (clowns, Neil Diamond, squash, reality TV shows) were too completely logical. I mean, who could disagree that clowns are just plain creepy? In any case, in a completely bold stroke of randomness, I decided to start disliking Volvos. I had no particular reason or goal in mind – I just decided that I needed to dislike something purely for the sake of disliking it. And, what has come to pass has completely exceeded my expectations; inevitably when I am on the road and another driver does something that irritates me or makes me wonder what the future of humanity is, I find that the car in question is a Volvo.
Fast forward to last week. It was Tuesday and I was having a busy day. To me a busy day involves my phone ringing incessantly, my email filling up to the point of my computer running out of memory and my assistant coming in regularly to check to see if I can possibly handle all the strain and pressure. Being busy is a blessing even if it does force me to drink large portions of coffee and run around the office like a spastic teenager in need of Rydlin. And, inevitably when things get busy, I end up getting a voice mail or two.
To me, voice mails are like a birthday present from someone I don’t know very well. To me they are a mystery capable of bringing happiness, joy and/or sorrow and woe. Maybe the analogy of a present is a bit of a stretch but I think we can all relate to that sense of anticipation when we are about to listen to a voice mail.
Although I’ve received a few messages asking me to remove consumers from my mailing list, I’ve never received a truly angry voice mail from someone before. Normally my callers are considerate and calm, politely asking me to no longer send newsletters and postcards. I certainly don’t get a full-blown rant about the state of the economy and my role in wrecking it. But as luck would have it, one of my voice mails on Tuesday was the equivalent of opening a present full of rotten fish. Voice mail rage had arrived.
The voice mail itself indicated that Loan Officers and Realtors have caused the current economic climate we find ourselves in. My caller was passionate, angry and full of bitterness toward the state of things in general. Aside from the tirade against a multitude of things both real and imagined, he asked that I kindly remove his name from future mailings. And I would be happy to oblige him.
But he forgot to leave his name. I wonder what make of Volvo he drives.