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(Continued from page 3)
nally, I heard the telephone ringing and a cheerful voice answered. At this point, I thought I was home free, but alas, fate was only putting a hefty mortgage on my home.
• "'Ello, can I to help please you?"
• "Huh," I said as diplomatically as I knew how.
• "Can I to help please you?" the voice in the phone repeated.
• I may not be the sharpest pencil in the box but I knew I was talking to someone as familiar with the English language as a politician is to the truth.
• "Is there anyone there," I pled, "who speaks English?"
• "Ah, yes, I to speak berry goot English. Can I to help please you?"
• So, I threw caution to the wind and explained the mix-up on my bill.
• "Aaah, I understand. This is billing problem. I transfer you to billing department."
• For the next 20 minutes, I was treated, and I say this with tongue firmly planted in my cheek, to a musical interlude. It was elevator music; it raised my blood pressure.
• For the next three hours, I went from pillar to post in the telephone department and got no nearer to solving my telephone-billing mix-up.
• One of the problems with being a minister is you are not allowed to swear. By 2:30 in the afternoon, I had an overwhelming urge to swear. My difficulty was simply, I could not think of any swear words to use and "ah, fiddlesticks" does not seem to carry much significance in such circumstance.
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