One of the worst parts of being a supervisor is being forced to answer an incessantly ringing phone. If you are a prank phone call enthusiast this fact allows for many opportunities to unite with your coworkers in a creative team-building activity that helps with morale. As someone who took part in so many of these exercises to improve station spirit, I knew one day when I took the promotion to lieutenant that I would eventually have to be at the receiving end at some point. So I accepted my inevitable pranking with professionalism.

At first I was disappointed in the lack of effort, then at the poorly thought out themes. I allowed for the fact the younger generations were more familiar with texting than calling but the fact that they still tried every once in a while should have caused them to come up with a better game plan. But eventually a formidable pranker rose to the fore.

The first round of calls involved someone trying to sell all of us chained to our desks a blender popular on the infomercial circuit. He called repeatedly causing most of my coworkers massive headaches as they were required to pick up the phone shortly after slamming down the receiver moments before. But I enjoyed engaging with him, acting immensely interested in buying a blender and asking for an extended sales pitch. My pranker was able to think spontaneously and keep up with my demands. My partner watched me during one phone call and started screaming at me to hang up. “It’s a scam!” she screamed. “A scam!” I completely ignored her as I prepared to give up my phony credit card number.

It was a nice change but just a step above amateur. But then one of my crews got the fantastic idea to hand their phones over to drunk patients after calling me. It led to some fun conversations. They eventually figured out the best person to give their phones to was a homeless man named Jorge.

Jorge used to ask me philosophical questions and answer me with completely unrelated topics.

“Hello, lieutenant.” he used to say. “Why do we need one million different kinds of wine? Do you think if someone was blindfolded they could really tell the difference? I call bullshit on that. Do you like vodka better? I do. Vodka makers don’t play the same kind of stupid games.”

“There’s like a million different brands of vodka.” I’d say.

“My doctor says I don’t get enough fiber.”

“Maybe they should put fiber in vodka. Vitamins too. Fortify it.”

“It’s been a long time since I had a smoke. I sure miss it.”

My crews would give me updates on Jorge from time to time since I never seemed to run into him on the nights I was on the road. I learned when he had broken a leg, when birthdays occurred, how many of the homeless women he was interested in and his luck with dating them. He was definitely one of the better regulars. One of my crews liked him so much they gifted him a kazoo.

For many nights thereafter I was serenaded on the phone by kazoo. Though I missed our intellectual discussions, I enjoyed the musical performances more. He really put his heart into them. My crews told me how much he loved learning to play new songs and give performances to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately one night, during a long drunken binge, he lost his kazoo. Or perhaps it was stolen by someone who did not appreciate his instrumental abilities. Either way, it made Jorge extremely sad.

When I found out about the missing kazoo I decided that it had to be replaced. Not only was I missing out on new Jorge material, I was sure the other lieutenants who worked the desk lamented the loss of our local talent. When I finally found one I carried it around with me and asked my crews to help me find Jorge so I could give it to him personally when I was on the road.

My crews called me the next night I was out and I met up with them. I got to meet my instrumentalist in person. He seemed like a friendly, happy man and I could see why so many homeless women found him to be a catch. Presented with my gift, he cried tears of happiness.

“The nurses,” he told me, “will be so relieved I can play again. The other patients in the hospital too. You helped so many to enjoy my songs again.”

I was grateful to share the gift of music with others.

After testing it out he took out his government-issued cell phone. It was a huge chunk of a phone, the kind most of us thought was a technological upgrade from the flip phone back when cell phones were just novelties. I watched him as he turned it on and went to his directory. I looked at his “recent calls” log and I saw the list:

911

911

911

(my station)

911

I discovered that he had called me on his own, not just when someone gave him their phone. It warmed my heart how my crews had set up perpetual calls for me. They were true professionals and I felt the torch had been successfully passed.