The Hymen Story

I published this in an old blog and decided it needed to be re-published on my current one. Enjoy.

The Hymen Story

Never wrote this one down. Felt that it was time.

I'm a worker bee who has the unfortunate "official" job title of Director of First Impressions. Yes, that's a completely serious job title they have given us. We used to be receptionists, but one day in late 2004, some dweedlydoodlefuck in HR who doesn't actually work here anymore, decided that a bloated-title promotion without a raise was the best way to make us feel needed and important. I kid you not, ONE WEEK after receiving that title, someone sent me this Dilbert strip in the interoffice mail. See the follow-ups here, here, and here.

Anyway, my title changed but my job and my salary remarkably stayed the same. My morale as a theatre artist, however, had started to deteriorate at a fast rate. I had reached my dayjob half-life, and, like a CD at age 25, I was starting to get a little warped. I was having a particularly dumpy day shortly after my promotion, when the universe decided to toss me a bone.

I always answer the phone the same way: "Greenblatt-Turner, this is Jen." When I first started it was "Good afternoon (morning)! Greenblatt-Turner, this is Jen! How can I help you?! Can I lick your bottom for you?! Can I make you feel bigger than you are?! " It was out of control. Now the exclamations are abolished, and without apology. All day long it's a very-flat "Greenblatt-Turner, this is Jen. Greenblatt-Turner, this is Jen." Occassionally, it's just "Greenblatt-Turner." I transfer the calls, I make the conference room reservations, I order the cars and the food so already-fat bastards can get even fatter.

This was the best phone call of my DOFI career:



The phone rings.

JEN: Greenblatt-Turner this is Jen.

LADY: (in a uniquely-urban accent) Um, yeeah. I need to confirm da spellin'a your firm's name.

JEN: Okay, go ahead.

LADY: A'ight. G-R-E-E-N-B-L-A-T-T-Hymen-T-U-R-N-E-R.

JEN: (giggling) Um, I-I'm sorry, ma'am. What did-Can-Can you-Can you say that again?
LADY sucks her teeth in annoyance.

LADY: (louder, growing more perturbed) G-R-E-E-N-B-L-A-T-T-HYMEN-T-U-R-N-E-R!

JEN starts laughing uncontrollably and holds the phone away
from her mouth.

LADY: Well, whatchu laughin' at? Is there a hymen or isn't there?

JEN: (laughing) Yes. Yes ma'am. You are absolutely right. There is a hymen.

LADY: Thank you.

JEN immediately hangs up the phone and calls everyone
she loves.


No, I didn't correct her. By my logic, it wasn't right to deprive another law firm D.O.F.I. of future joy. There is a karmic problem with this story. Everytime I have to use the word "hyphen" I really have to think about it. It's the same with "incest" and "incense." I can't really think of a situation in which mixing up those two words would be embarrassing, though.

********UPDATE*********

In the time that has passed since this phone call took place, our firm has become a larger, more experienced, and more dominant firm. We have also gained many, many more partners. Subsequently, we have lost our hymen.