There are two ways to handle telemarketers who call the indy pizza shop I work at. The first is to tell them ever so politely, “Take your business and shove it up your ass”, then hang the phone up (Gary gets upset when we slam the phones down, because, uh, we go through like a dozen phones a year that way).

The first way is the way they’re handled when we’re busy, or when Gary answers the phone. I have, on occasion, answered the phone this way: “You dumb ass, it’s the middle of our lunch rush, we’re busy as fuck, who told you this was a good time to call? No, I don’t care, shove it!”

The second way to answer the phone is one that me, Zap, and Noah, all love.

“Hi, I’d like to speak to the person in charge of employee benefits,” the woman said.

“Okay,” Noah said. “I’ll transfer you to human resources.”

With less than a dozen employees, Gary is the human resources department. But he would hang the phone up on her, and where’s the fun in that?

So I picked up the phone. “Shippin’ an’ receivin’,” I said, slurring my words together.

“Uh, hi, I was trying to get in touch with the person in charge of benefits…”

“Benefits? Why’d you call shippin’ an’ recievin’? Hold - hold on a moment -” at this point I yelled across the store, “Hey, Herb, she thinks we get benefits!” Zap, who was at the rear of the store, obliged with a loud laugh and shouted something back. “Yeah, lady, you want to call human resources.”

“Yes, I uh, thought I was being transfered…”

“If you want to be transfered, you have to call the secretary, hon, I don’t do transfers.”

“No, I mean…”

“Hold on, just this once, for you.”

I put the phone on hold, and Noah, on cue, picked it up. “Pizza Shop.” He waited as she spoke, then said, “Hold on one moment, I’ll transfer you to human resources.”

As soon as he put the phone on hold, I picked it up: “Shippin’ an’ recievin…”