So Amy Kress tells me I need to call Dayton History at Carillon Park to RSVP for the opening ceremonies of the 1913 Dayton Flood Exhibit.  My membership newsletter arrived and on my iPhone shortly after her message. I scroll down to a telephone, and see that I can push the number for automatically dialing; my first on this phone.

I am excited for this technological first.

Man’s Voice: “Hello, Dayton Art Institute.”

[Darin misses the ‘DAI’ part; remember, he is still VERY excited he could dial the number from a brochure within an email]

Darin: “Hello.  I need to RSVP for tomorrow afternoon’s event.”

Man: “One moment please, and I’ll transfer you to volunteers.”

Nice Older Lady’s voice: “Hello, Dayton Art Institute.  How many I help you?”

Darin: “I would like to RSVP for Friday’s event at 4:30pm.”

Nice Older Lady: “Which event would this be, Sir?”

Darin: “The 1913 Dayton Flood ceremony which is opening Saturday.”

Nice Older Lady: “There’s nothing schedule here for tomorrow of that nature.”

Darin: “Oh… I was just received an email from Brady’s wife, and was reading my Dayton History email sent today.”

Nice Older Lady: “Ah!  This is the Dayton Art Institute. Let me find the number for Dayton History.”

I explained that I had the number, thanked her, and hung up.  I pulled up the email on my phone, hit the number again.  The man answered.

Man: “Hello, Dayton Art Institute.”

[Guess who missed the location, again?]

Darin: “I called a moment ago to RSVP for the event at Carillon Park, and was accidentally transferred to the Dayton Art Institute.”

Man: “Umm. You were needing Dayton History?”

Darin: “Yes, and they transferred me to Dayton Art Institute, instead.”

[I even said, “they,” so I would not sound as though I was blaming the nice gentleman.]

Man: “OK.  And this is for an event here, tomorrow?”

Darin: [Figuring that not everyone might be aware of all the happenings at Carillon Park.]  “Yes.  Brady Kress’ wife said I needed to call to RSVP.”

Man:  “Alrighty.  One moment, please.  I’ll transfer you.”

And when the call is received, the Nice Older Lady is saying, “I’m still trying to locate the number for you.”

Now, I am thinking maybe one of the telephone buttons at Carillon Park is mislabeled, and for some reason no one has caught it.  I hang up and push the linked telephone number.  The same nice man answers.

Man:  “Hello. Dayton History.”

And so this saga continued.  What I did not realize, until three telephone calls, later, was that my email from Dayton History was also advertising for the Dayton Art Institute’s exhibit on the Dayton Flood, and had conveniently, and thoughtfully, supplied the telephone number!

When The Man, which whom I had been sharing brief greetings prior to being transferred to Nice Older Lady, and I began laughing about it, he said, “After the our one discussion, even I was becoming confused and answered the next call, which happened to be yours, with: ‘Hello, Dayton History.”  [I was listening that particular time and knew I was not crazy!]

Ahh… for the love of being a blonde…

And, yes!  One time I spent 20 minutes on the telephone talking to a lady I thought was my mother… most of the conversation actually made sense.  But she was from Michigan and this was long before Caller ID.

Good times!