Monday, April 19

My braggadocio screeches louder than your braggadocio ...

I do not normally engage in idle boasting and prefer to think of myself as someone who is fairly humble about my achievements and skills. I put a premium on modesty — after all, those who know me best will readily tell you that I have a lot to be modest about. So it is with some trepidation that I venture here to unveil to all my blog friends a talent that, as far as I know, is unique to me and me alone. Something that no other person I have ever met has done, or perhaps even thought to try. So please forgive me and bear with this immodesty.

You see, years ago I used to converse with fax machines. You all remember fax machines, right? I know that the web, email, Acrobat Reader and scanners are quickly making them obsolete. In fact, the reason I choose to share this unique gift of mine now is precisely because soon there will be many people who have never seen a fax and may not even know what they were used for. Yes, the fax machine is doomed to go the way of the slide rule I remember using in high school chemistry class and the punched cards fed into those early computers in my first computer science course (I guess this dates me).

I work at home as a legal and financial translator and have been doing so for over 20 years now. On the whole, this has been great as it has allowed me to spend a lot of time with my daughters, and work in my pajamas while listening to my Charles Mingus CDs. When I first started, much of the work sent to me was on paper, not in electronic files, and it would be faxed to me. I did not actually have a fax machine per se, but a fax modem in my PC. Remember, all of this was before email. So clients would fax their bond issue underwriting agreements and other pearls of world literature straight to my fax modem through my one and only voice line (not called voice line back then, just “the phone”).

Some of you may remember the routine. You would get a call, pick up the phone, say Hello, (Hola in my case, shouted above Mingus's Haitian Fight Song) and, when you heard the telltale screechy electronic squeal, run the fax program on the PC. The only problem was that I would often not have the program running, or the PC would not even be on. In what seemed like the interminable wait for the fax application to ready itself to take over, my fax caller would re-bleat the greeting, more insistently all the time, then become angry to the point of downright nasty. Since I could not really understand the speeding string of shrieked metallic expletives that followed, I would not take much offence, but I did find it nerve wracking to be cowed into anguished silence while waiting to see if good ole fax app would step in just in time and literally get me off the hook.

Sometimes he would, and the sternly squealed scolding would subside. Fax app and the aggrieved fax would begin to chatter away happily and I would hang up so they could get on with their conversation without me. But more often than not, the fax app cavalry would not ride in in time to save the day: the screaming electronic gibberish on the other side of the conversation would tire out, give up and end the call, sometimes but a mere second or two before fax app would happily announce on my computer screen that he was ready to rumble (or squeal actually; it was Mingus who was rumbling). But by then the somber dial tone had returned to let me know that I had really let someone down.

This invariably meant that I would have to guess as to which client might have been trying to send me work, call them on the phone and, if indeed they were the owners of the forlorn fax screamer, request that they apologize for me to the miffed mystery mutterer and kindly call or ring or fax or shriek again, that my fax app was now up and running.

Eventually, I came upon an inspired solution, born of frustration and quite by chance but inspired nonetheless. No, nothing as simple as having my PC on and fax app running in the background. Puh-lease, that would have been obvious to the point of banality.

No, instead, one frustrated afternoon, annoyed by the insistent shrill gerbil squeaking at me, irritated by my own humiliated silence, and convinced that fax app was never going to take over in time before the high-octave and high-decibel delirium on the other end of the line lost all patience, what I did was to start screeching back: chrreeeeeee! shreeee! peteleee! xxhreeee! tleee tleee tleee tleeee!!! (I am only paraphrasing the conversation here — as this was many years ago).

And to my complete and utter amazement ... it worked. Instantly, my shrill squawking produced silence on the other end. A very expectant silence that I was sure would be followed by the telltale dial tone or a renewed outburst of electronic metal invective lambasting me for my brazenness. But, no, that rich silence was followed by something even richer: a meek and suddenly humbled "blee ... blee ... blee?".

Ha! HAA!!! I had it doubting! And I was no longer to be pushed around. I continued my high-pitched shrieking with another volley of chreeess and shreeees and tleeeess. Again, silence. And then ... a soft and almost plangent ... bleeeeeeeee??? Now that the tables were turned and I was the overbearing bully, I viciously held forth with another round of garbled gerbil gibberish of my own. This time, though, my fax sparring partner bounced back off the ropes a bit more aggressively, less cowed, and started spewing his electronic expletives again. I took it on the chin and responded in kind, letting fly a flurry of squeals. This incensed him and he tried to intimidate me with further salvos of fax fury, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. It just wasn't the same any more. I had at the least won myself some grudging respect, damn it.

Well I won't go on with all the irritating shrill chirpy details, but the point is that just as the squealfest was starting to get ugly, fax app stepped in and took over for me. He beeped out a short cadence of squeaks himself and that seemed to quickly mollify my agitated but befuddled fax caller. The fax arrived correctly.

And, sure enough, this soon became a habit. The truth is I was quite pleased with this new-found gift of mine and discovered I was consistently able to hold my own with fax callers. The initial acrimony of this first encounter did not return and our squealing and squeaking was soon trained on weightier matters. Not that the conversations made much sense or shed any light on the mysterious inner reaches of the human soul, but they did generally succeed in holding the client caller at bay until fax app took over for me at the helm.

I would enjoy experimenting with new elocutions and messages. Almost anything would work as long as it was screeched very fast, very high pitched and very loud. Gibberish was fine, but I pride myself on being an added-value shrieker, so I tried loftier oratorical patter. Shakespeare was a favorite. What could be more fun than to declaim "To be or not to be ..." three octaves higher than normal and at five times the speed? Granted, Hamlet's famous soliloquy does lose some of its existential gravitas when intoned by what could only be likened to a helium-inhaling castrati choir of Alvin and the Chipmunks on an amphetamine binge. But I was not trying to rival Sir Laurence Olivier, I was just trying to hold the line for fax app. And, hey, it worked. I was proud.

My wife and daughters less so. Eventually, they did get used to it though — believe it or not, I have indulged and they have learned to live with habits even stranger than this one. But I will never forget the pained expression on Isabel's face, cringing as she closed the door to my office, her eyes rolling upward and sighing a resigned "Papá, por favor!" as she wondered how she was going to explain to her visiting friend why daddy was singing-whining I Got Plenty O' Nothin' from Porgy and Bess at the top of his tonsils into the phone. And more than once I felt an alarmed shudder run through me as I pondered what would happen if the clients on the other end could actually hear where they were sending their prospectuses on mortgage-backed securities for translation (yes, those very same ones that have nearly torched the international financial system). Happily, that never happened and I continued to regale my fax callers with my doppler-defying digital diatribes.

But, alas, those days are gone now. Nobody ever sends me faxes any more. My current PC does not even have fax capabilities. My squeals and shrieks are just a happy echoed memory of this singular accomplishment of mine. There is nothing at present that I can point to in my narrow repertoire of skills as truly unique. Again, I have much to be modest about; I can live with this humbling knowledge. But something inside me will always be tickled when I look back and think that ... Doctor Doolittle could talk to the animals. Robert Redford whispered to horses. And me? Lorenzo? I was The Fax Chatterer.

39 comments:

  1. I can almost see that scene (and yes, your daughter must have felt mortified. Kids always think adults do thing JUST to shame or annoy them).
    Epic! But a dying art indeed.

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  2. I love this story and you are right, this was never a solution to the perennial fax problem that I ever contemplated.

    You are a man of genius sir.

    No, no, don't permit your natural humility to doubt it. I will say it again, pure genius.

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  3. Where I go with this is, what goodness did your song chatter do YOU? I think a lot.

    Don't you wonder what the generation of our kids will look back at with those-were-the-days nostalgia?

    (I read your post listening to Mingus' Good-bye Pork Hat.)

    WORD VERIFICATION: bless

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  4. Brilliant, and very very funny... (to the extent that you could have done with placing a warning at the top for those who don't work at home in their pyjamas)

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  5. haha. one of those moments i would love to be a fly on the wall...i dub thee "fax whisperer"...tamer of mad screaming fax machines...

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  6. Now you might have some idea of how much I needed a good laugh, but if not, I certainly did need one and you delivered :). Hilarious, you!

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  7. Okay, easy now,put the phone down, STEP AWAY from the fax machine..........

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  8. This was so funny I found myself spewing a mouthfull of water on my screen!! Be careful... I hear insanity runs in our family.

    Yes, Mom told me about your blog a lil' while ago and have been following faithfully.

    Mucho amor.

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  9. The Fax Chatterer, that's a good one! My husband is a dog whisperer and me? A chocolate and word whisperer, no doubt.

    My parents still use their fax machine, although less and less these days.

    My dad now works from home, as well as my husband. There are definite perks involved, a few which you've listed (pajama work attire being towards the top of our list, too).

    Thank you for sharing your genius with us. As well as your good humor. :)

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  10. I am glad to learn there are normal people out there such as yourself -- what are we to do with this new generation -- how can you imitate a text message I wonder?

    Yes sheer genius you are. I don't think I ever met a 'fax whisperer' before come to think of it? but I have met a doughnut hole maker whisperer once.

    Joanny

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  11. Hi Barry: Thank you, Barry. I don't know about anywhere else, but here flattery will get you pretty darn far!

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  12. Ruth: An interesting take on the post, both about what the chatter did for me and how kids will look back on these memories when we have all turned sepia.

    I am heartened to learn you listen to Mingus. Good-bye Pork Pie Hat was, of course, his tribute to Lester Young, who I mentioned in a previous post on Billie Holiday.

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  13. Niamh: I'll try to remember about the warning next time. I wouldn't want any self-betraying chuckles at non-laugh-friendly workplaces!

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  14. Hi, Brian: Tamer, huh? Perhaps, but I think no one got the upper hand in these epic squealfests.

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  15. Hello, Amy (She Writes): what would become of us all were it not for some humor and laughs? Glad to contribute to keeping your spirits up!

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  16. TFE: I got a good laugh out of this comment. Very perceptive. I think you have sized up the situation quickly and accurately.

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  17. Cousin Lele!! What a great suprise. When I saw the name "Cousin Lele", I thought, "that's a neat name, I have a cousin Lele", without realizing it was you. Yes, I have been warned about the insanity, most recently by Totalfeckineejit in the comment one up from yours.

    Great to hear from you, prima. Un beso muy, muy grande.

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  18. Hi, Terresa, the chocolate and word whisperer (what sweet breath!). So your father and husband work at home. I remember my daughters when young thought that all men stayed at home and women worked away from the house, because I worked at home and my father had retired and my mother was still working.

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  19. Hi, Joanny. Glad you enjoyed the post. You'll have to tell us about "the doughnut hole maker whisperer" some time.

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  20. A certain someone has worked from WM as long as we've lived here. I well remember the high pitched fax shrieks. Back in the day, when he was overseas, faxing was our main mode of communication. Gosh, did we ever go through those rolls of fax paper. No fax chattering ever at the manor, though. I am known at times to coax my old PC very gently. I guess you could call me a computer whisperer.

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  21. great orenzo. I came looking for your 'Watch Magpie'and was much entertained by this instead.

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  22. Willow: I originally got the idea of writing this piece as a comment to your post on how your husband WT is often confused for a female on the phone. I realized it would be much too long for a comment and a few months of procrastination later, here it is ...

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  23. Hi Little Hat: I am glad you liked it. Unfortunately, I did not participate in Magpie Tales this weekend. I'll try to do something for the next prompt.

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  24. you had me at those computer cards , stacks of them, Fortran?

    I secretly think that when my children feign shock and shame, it's a love code. At least I tell myself that.

    Great story.

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  25. Hi, Deb: I hope it is a love code, but I suspect the children are not feigning the shame, the shock perhaps.

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  26. Solution: collect the faxes in one room, have people dial in at the same time, then have a concert, a veritable fax medley

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  27. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  28. Art Travels: a faux fax concert?

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  29. And I thought "conversing with fax machines" was a euphemism at first! :) Very funny and I'm stealing this: "garbled gerbil gibberish". Kthxbai.

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  30. (True confession: I listened to Mingus because of you. I youtubed him as soon as I read what you wrote, then listened along. It was deceitful of me to leave you thinking I was already a Mingus fan. Oh well, such is my humanity. I had not heard of him before, not being a jazz afficionada, or even much of a listener. Just a wannabe cool person.)

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  31. It's pretty embarrassing to wiki him now, and understand what a major influence he was, and me so ignorant. But as a Baptist preacher's kid, maybe I can be forgiven. Oh well, must not be too hard on myself. And one of the clearwater joys of blogging has been receiving a free education into a universe of to-me-unknown points of light. Thank you so much for that. I am still thinking almost every day of your Renoir-Caillebotte post.

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  32. am squealing with delight over this tale!!

    i have heard of snake charmers, but this is the first time of a fax charmer.


    last job i had a client kept wanting to fax me stuff.... can't remember when i last used a fax! i was having a moment of thinking i was in some sort of weird parallel universe.

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  33. Haahaaaaaa! That is a great story, and told with such finesse, Lorenzo. I love it. You should be proud. It is true, though, isn't it--we hardly ever use them now, and there was a time when we just couldn't get along without them! I guess the advent of attaching things in emails kind of put the kabosh on the lowly fax machines.

    Love the story...

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  34. Absolutely hilarious... A welcomed post after a blogging break - Now I remember what I missed so much :0)

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  35. this has to be one of the most unique exposes of oneself I have read. LOL. Fax screecher? So, you must really miss those days deep down, right?> LOL.

    I love the horse whisperer comment above too, btw. too funny.

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  36. Haha! Great story! I was an office manager at a law firm last year, and I was annoyed that we still had to use the fax machine whenever we needed to file outside of the city. Courthouses take forever to adapt to new technology, and for some reason they would only permit faxed paperwork. Absolutely no scanning, even though it's much better quality. There were definitely times when I could have used a "fax whisperer".

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  37. Suddenly, your insanity has become clear.

    This explains so much, it's scary.

    >screeee< >squaaaaaaa< >zit< >kkkkkrrrrrk< >beepedy booop< >hsssshhhhhhh<

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  38. BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

    ohmygawd.... That was sooo funny!! (The writing was so enjoyable. Loved it!)

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  39. You are such a good writer you! :O)
    This is very enjoyable piece,masterfully written,thank you for the laughs!
    Hugs
    Aleksandra!

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