At 5:20 this morning, I was getting ready for work when the phone rang. In my house, if the phone rings after 10:00 at night or before 7:00 in the morning, it means that someone died. At least that's what I always think, even though I've been proven right only several times.
So, I looked at the ringing phone for several seconds, muttering "shit" and then picked it up. And was immediately assaulted by a flood of Spanish, in pre-recorded form. After listening for a short time, and not understanding a fucking word because it was coming so fast, I hung up ...
Jan: Who was that?
Me: I dunno. Some message in Spanish.
Jan: (pause) Spanish? (exasperated look) That was probably the teacher's hot line at school telling me not to come in.
Me: Huh? Why don't they want you to come in? It's 65 degrees outside, it can't be snowing (looks out window to make sure).
Jan: (shooting eye daggers at me) Because the power went out before I left last night and they said it might not be fixed by this morning.
Me: So, when I asked you what happened at school when you came home yesterday, and you said "nothing", you just decided that I didn't need to know this.
Jan: Well ... now I have to call someone to see if we have school today!
Me: Oh, so the fact that I couldn't read your mind last night and I get a call blabbering at me in Spanish just now makes it my fault that you're inconvenienced?
Jan: Well ... (retreating)
Me: How many Latinos do you have on staff?
Me: Then, WHY THE FUCK is the teacher hotline message in Spanish?
And after bickering back and forth for a few minutes like a couple of cranky 7 year-olds, I grumbled through the rest of my morning routine and left for work ... still grumbling.
It was 82 degrees and sunny here today. And Jan had a marvelous, unexpected day off. This evening, the teacher hot line rang again ... and this time the "all clear" message was in English.
Thanks, assholes ...