Whatever the reason, my telephone fell off the wall regularly, and I used tape and gum to effect repairs. When the handset gave up, I used my stereo headphones for the receiver. The phone wouldn’t ring anymore after I hard-wired my cassette player into the thing.
I had my reasons.
Eventually, there was no other option but to call NY Telephone and avail myself of the free service call, which I had been putting off for 7 months.
So, the telephone repair guy comes by and sees what should be a telephone but isn’t anymore hanging on the wall by a push pin. It’s not as if I could polish this turd, and I was embarrassed.
There was a short pause before he said anything.
“What color do you want, red or black?” “For what?” I ask. “Your new wall phone, and I gotta go down to my truck to get it,” I told the guy that I had 10.00 in my life, and I was sure I didn’t have the money to pay for a new phone.
“Was there some sort of payment plan?”
“Have you ever had a phone in your name?” He asked, and I had not. “Well, it doesn’t cost you anything.” And after a brief pause added, “What you did to that piece of equipment, you shouldn’t be allowed to have another.”
I began explaining my performance art but stopped when I noticed him staring at the dick in the picture just to the right of the phone.
I had made the image for a media studies assignment, “The Body as Architecture.” I got an A.
“I want to take a picture of the phone before you take it,” I said.
NY Telephone man said nothing as I raised my Polaroid Pronto and took two snaps. I handed one to the guy and said, “Maybe show your buddies at work?” He laughed.
He moved to take the phone but dropped it, which caused the ringers/bells to break off the chassis and roll off somewhere…
My cats loved those things.
My name is Gerard Exupery, and my website is gerardexupery.com, where I sell my books, exhibit images, and post stuff like this. My stories are 89% true, with only the names changed to protect the innocent.
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