“Hello. You have reached the desk of Meg, accounting specialist extraordinaire & keeper of the sanity. So sorry to have missed your call- if you run fast, you may be able to catch a glimpse of me in the parking lot, but I would suggest you don’t allow any valuable items or vital limbs to drift between my car & the exit.
As I have blown this Popsicle Stand for the next 12 days, I wish you luck on reaching anybody to assist you; but if you press 210, 407, or any other random combination of three numbers, you may luck out & reach a live person who may or may not know what they are talking about, before having your call transfered back to this message.
After the tone, please leave your name, your phone number, & your detailed plea for help, which I should be able to listen to within 3 to 6 weeks of my return, depending on 1) the size of the pile of crucial, yet uncompleted work to be done, 2) the number of errors made or missed that need to be corrected before the end of the month, or 3) the dubious supposition I will actually return to this loony bin after tasting freedom. Thank you for calling & have a lovely day.”
Well kids, I'm off to British Columbia tomorrow morning at the uncivilized hour 4:30 am (leaving the house, not taking off) & steadfastly avoiding the telephone to get my last minute preparation done. I don't know what kind of internet access I'll run across, but I will do my best to check in to see how you all are holding up in my absence. Ta-ta!