Honest Phone Greetings From an Office Receptionist Who’s Given Up On Her Dreams

Hello, thank you for calling. Speaking of callings, I thought I had one, but I don’t audition very well. Who are you trying to reach?

Hello, this is reception speaking.  My name? Oh, what’s in a name, that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet… nevermind, yes, I’ll transfer you.

Hello there, is this my career calling? Joking, my career is dead. Anyway, would you like to leave a message? 

Good afternoon, I’m a disappointment to my family; and by that I mean my acting conservatory family. Ever since I stole 3,000 dollars from my mom to pay for improv classes at UCB, my actual family won’t talk to me. How can I help you?

Good morning! What time does Lisa get in? Umm, 9? Wait, no… 8? Oh, it’s noon already? Sorry. My acting teachers emphasized the importance of living in the moment, so I’m not great with “time.” But Lisa will get back to you at some point.

Hello, you’ve reached the front desk of…. crap, dammit, I have no clue what this place is called. Hold please. (yells) What is this place? A law company? A financing joint? A consulment room? Can’t say I have a knack for “corporate” buzzwords, save for the ones I learned from the Mad Men scene I did in my TV scene study workshop.

Happy Monday! I’m kidding. I don’t think anyone should be “happy” that it’s Monday, much less falsely advertise that they are happy that it’s Monday, unless their doing a monologue about being happy that it’s Monday while they’re in a bad mood. Are you happy? Wait, you are? Really? The last time I was happy was when I was playing Hedda Gabler in Hedda Gabler, and she shoots herself in the head!

Good morning! Are you enjoying the hospitable and smooth timbre of my voice? I have a 100,000 dollar degree in speech and theater in case you couldn’t tell. If you want, I could talk to you in a cockney accent, an Irish accent, a Brooklyn accent, a southern accent, and in a few other offensive but mildly funny accents, or I could just sing to you. You don’t want any of that? No matter! I am your bitch now anyway. What can I do for you?

Hi there! If this is Sallie Mae calling, I am not here. Oh, sorry, you’re not Sallie Mae. Forgive me, FOR MY STUDENT LOANS! Kidding, kidding. I’ve changed my number so many times at this point, that I don’t think Sallie Mae has the capability of tracking me, unless of course they have access to the GPS on my Iphone, which by the way, I have to get rid of, since my dad (who doesn’t really “understand” me as an artist) refuses to pay my bill anymore.  Yeah, ever since I wrote a one woman musical about him called Daddy Doesn’t Care that I directed and starred in and made him watch at a shitty black box theater with no AC, he hasn’t been as keen on sending me money. See, he really doesn’t care! Anyway, would you like to leave a number?

Hello, you’ve reached the front desk, a.k.a., my palace of farts. Sometimes I fart loudly, and cough while I do it so no one notices. Other times I fart silently, then check to see if it smells. If it does, I immediately get up and go to the kitchen, so no one can trace the source of the odor. If my fart is loud and also smells, I cough for a long time, pretend I am choking a little,  and then go to the bathroom to “sort things out.” Toot! I just farted again. Did you hear that? You did? Wow! Do you smell it too? Does odor travel over the phone? I wouldn’t know, I failed science class because I was in a production of Bye Bye Birdie. Let me put you on hold. 

Good morning, you’ve reached a 29 year old who has changed their first name from “Donna” to Dana, so that my coworkers don’t google me and find out that I was a burlesque dancer. Because once they find my instagram (@donnastrips), they’ll find my twitter, and then they’ll click the link to my Youtube channel, which will then lead them to my Tumblr blog about female sexuality, which will subsequently link them to my IMDB profile, which unfortunately only has background work on it. And I just don’t need that kind of scrutiny, you know? So what if I want to strip to music that I composed, post all the videos of my dances on youtube, tweet and blog about my body, all because I don’t really have anything going for me? Oh, you’d like the link to my youtube? Sure! May I have your email? 

Hello, you’ve reached Satan. Haha, just kidding! This is Santa! Haha, gotcha again! Okay, if I’m being honest, this is Wonder Woman. Nope. It’s not. Okay, okay let’s start over. This is Juliet. It’s Ophelia. This is King Lear’s daughter. This is Aphrodite. This is the Wicked Witch of the West. This is Dolly from Hello Dolly. Okay now I’m just reading my resume out loud. Yes! I was in Wicked! No, not on Broadway, stupid. It was a community theater production.  I’ve never been on Broadway. Don’t you know that there’s more to being an artist than being on GOD DAMN BROADWAY?!?!? Fuck you! Oh, and before you hang up, just know, this IS Satan. Yes, that’s right! I’ve been Satan all along, and I’m gonna go ahead and possess you AND your entire family. So watch the fuck out! AND YES I WILL HAVE LISA GIVE YOU A CALL BACK!

Hello, front desk speaking. I mean, you can call back tomorrow, but I hear this place might be burnt to the ground by then. What? Nothing. Haha. Sure I’ll take a message.


  1. Wow… this was funny and a bit too real! I’m a receptionist and some days I wish I could respond like this. People don’t think receptionists are people too.

    Liked by 1 person

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