Typical Day
Mark glances at the bulky CrystalSound ANX13 answering machine balanced awkwardly on his filing cabinet. Its front is blinking; twenty-five years after purchase, and that little red light is still as bright as ever. Someone must have called while Martha Digsby was recounting her life's story. Mark looks at his watch. It's been eight minutes of this already.
"So Bill, you know Bill, he never liked the veranda, but that's just Bill. So he says it's time to move, but I don't know. I like the veranda. And even if I didn't, I—honey, hang on a moment, that's Milly on the other line now."
Mark hears the quiet click of Martha changing lines and uses the opportunity to hit play on whatever message is now sitting in the answering machine. Listening to new messages while clients scurry around after file folders or rudely put him on hold while he's on the clock is precisely why he uses this old relic instead of voicemail when he can.
The machine clicks and beeps before playing the message. "Hey Mark, Sal here from Wallford Banks. Just calling to inform you that the Patterson loan's not going through. The paperwork should be there in a day or so, but I figured I'd give you a head start on finding someone else. Have a good one." It clicks again and the light goes dark.
Mark leans back in his office chair and sighs. 9:13AM and something's already gone wrong. Sure, he appreciates the advance warning—a perk of making nice with the banks—but this means starting over with finding Tom Patterson a workable loan. He starts to think about what may have caused the rejection when Martha comes back on the line.
"Sorry about that, dear. That was Milly. She was calling to tell me that—"
"Hi, Martha?" Mark quickly interrupts her in his cheeriest voice. "I want to know all about it, alright? But I'm afraid my daughter Amanda has just called and—"
"Oh! Go on, dear, take care of your daughter. We can speak later."
Amanda is Mark's favorite child. She's better than anyone he knows at gracefully extracting him from pointless phone calls and client meetings that aren't going anywhere. Imagine. All that talent and she doesn't even exist.
"Thanks for understanding," he says, "and I'll be in touch soon with the next steps on the house, okay?"
He turns the headset off and on again, and looks up Tom's number. He types it into the phone and walks to the kitchen while the call connects. Tom answers just as Mark drops two slices of bread into the toaster.
"Hey, Tom, how's Monday treating you? ...Good, good. So, listen, Tom, Wallford fell through, but...yes, I know I said it was a lock, but...sometimes these things happen. It's rare, but it happens. Why? Well, you pay people like me so that when things like this do happen, you have someone who can quickly get the process started with another lender. ...Yes, of course I've got some ideas on another...okay, I'll let you go. I'll call soon, as soon as I have another package."
The toast pops up, and Mark deftly catches them by their tops. His phone rings as he butters the bread.
"Hello, this is Mark Bannock."
It's Milly, apparently a friend of Martha's. Martha has recommended his services to her, which would be great if she was actually in the process of shopping for a house. Instead she's "thinking about thinking about it." He lets her talk while he eats, and then finds a polite excuse to get her off the phone.
Mark walks back to his office and places a call to Meredith Collins. Tomorrow is the deadline for her to file her paperwork, but he told her last week that it was today. She apologizes profusely when he reminds her, and says that the paperwork is with her father, but that her father isn't well enough to drive. Mark doesn't hesitate to offer his assistance. He grabs his briefcase, switches to his cell phone, and jumps into his car.
Mark has a half-hour drive ahead of him, but he's smiling. This sort of situation is perfect for him. A real win-win. Meredith thinks that he just went above and beyond to save her loan; it costs him about two hours between the drive and the drop off, but almost guarantees her future business and a glowing recommendation of his services to any of her home-seeking friends.
He decides to pick up some fast food before heading back to his house. It's early for lunch, but he hasn't been grocery shopping lately, and doesn't think he'll have another chance to eat until after his meeting with the American Bank and Trust loan adviser at 4:00PM. His cell phone rings just before he pulls into the drive-through, so he does another loop around the parking lot to take care of it before ordering his lunch.
He's got five messages on his machine by the time he gets home, and makes notes on each of them. He's able to call back three people and handle another incoming call before putting on his suit and heading to his afternoon appointment.
A voicemail from a woman asking about loan-to-value percentages comes in during the meeting, and he has just enough time to call her and the two others who'd called while he'd been on the road before a client meeting at 6:00PM. Martha calls one more time to talk about nothing around 7:30PM.
By 8:00PM, the phone stops ringing. The little red light on Mark's answering machine has gone dark, and his task list for the day is done and crossed out. He exhales and heads to his living room, where he silences his cell phone and turns on his PlayStation 4.
Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday, he thinks as the console boots up. I could use a day with only five hours of work.