My father, Big Pops, maintains a voicemail message on his business line that I hope he never elects to erase. It is worth calling on your lunch break. It is prime material for a screenplay. It is infamous.
His tone is so severe, you are waiting for him to ask you for proof of citizenship, and what you did – exactly – on Feb. 4, 1983. He could scare ex-boyfriends into last year.
After he announces his name and title, he says, “Presently, I am unavailable due to the fact that I…”
Then, he details every reason why he isn’t available to receive your call.
He is on the other line. He is meeting with a client. He got religion.
He has acid indigestion. He just saved a bundle on his car insurance.
It is roughly 7 minutes long.