I have a crazy woman that calls me at work, every few months, to ask me various questions. Our first conversation came shortly after I started my job, which was about 2 1/2 years ago. She called to inquire about becoming licensed in an area that, let me just say, requires a huge time commitment, lots of hoop-jumping, and a major stipulation that you can't be a certifiable crazy person! At first I didn't totally realize she was crazy and I was new so I was trying to do a superb job of answering her questions. I explained the entire process to her and even took the time to go over every little detail. I had probably been on the phone with her for a good half-an-hour when our conversation takes a major turn for the worse:
Crazy Lady: Um, you see, my husband he's, ah, real sick. See, one time he pretended to be an undercover cop.
Me: Ahhhh, ohhh -
Crazy Lady: And, he wears an coloscopy bag ...
Me: Wow. (WTH do I say to that?)
Crazy Lady: We have nurses coming in everyday.
Me: Yeah, ok, well now's probably not the right time to move forward with this because, well, um - We can require psychological evaluations!
I hurried to get off the phone with Crazy Lady. I was certain that would be my last phone call from her, because the true crazies usually don't follow through with the licensure. Yeah, wishful thinking on my part! Sure enough, a few months later she called again to tell me that she was going to build on to her one-bedroom apartment, since she needed at least a two-bedroom for the type of license she wants. Um, HELLO CRAZY LADY ... I'm pretty sure apartment buildings don't allow you to build additions!!!!!! But, what WTH do I know anyway! So, another few months went by until she called again ...
Here's the latest conversation:
Me: Hi, this is Danielle
Crazy Lady: Hi, honey it's Crazy Lady.
Me: Oh, hi. How's it going? (trying not to sound frustrated, because I'm wasting my time talking to you!)
Crazy Lady: Well, I think you're gonna be real proud of me.
Me: Oh, really? (slight dread in voice, hoping that she wasn't going to tell me that she completed the classes).
Crazy Lady: Yep, I'm, uh, finishing my high school diploma.
Me: (Obvious relief) Wow, good for you!
Crazy Lady: Yeah, but I also know you're gonna be real sad in a minute.
Me: Uh, oh. What's wrong?
Crazy Lady: I just found out I have diabetes.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you doing OK? (Wondering WTH she thinks I care!!)
Crazy Lady: Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just thought I'd call and tell you.
Me: Ok, well thanks. Take care of yourself. (Ummmm, WTF?)
Crazy Lady: Yep, I will. I'll call you when I move out of the one-bedroom.
Me: Sounds good. Have a good da-
Crazy Lady: Wait! I thought of my question.
Crazy Lady: Can you come out to my apartment and teach me the classes, because my husband can't move?
Me: No. It doesn't work like that.
Crazy Lady: Oh, that's too bad.
Me: Yea ...
Crazy Lady: Bye, honey.
I am certain she is one of those people that calls a bunch of social service and crisis hotlines "just to talk." I mean, she called to tell me she is getting a GED and has diabetes (two things totally unrelated to anything I do at work!), so she must think she has found a "friend" in me or, at the very least, someone who listens .... (SIGH). Well, now I'm kinda feeling guilty that I get annoyed with her. Poor crazy lady.
Until I hear from her again ....
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