"Pastis, This is Mildred. I Need To Talk To You."

I got a call yesterday from a woman who sounded old.

"Pastis, this is Mildred.  I need to talk to you."

I didn't know Mildred, but she obviously knew me.  So I asked her what she needed to talk about.

"The parish banquet.  I think starting it at three o'clock is a mistake."

"What parish banquet?"

"The parish banquet at the church."

"I don't think I'm going to that," I said.

"How can you not go, Pastor?"

And that's when I realized she had not said "Pastis" at the start of the conversation.

Now this is where a kind, sane person politely says, "I'm afraid you have the wrong number" and hangs up.  So that's not what I did.

I said this:

"How can I not go?  Because I don't feel like it, Mildred."

"You need to go."

"Well, I wanted to, before you told me it couldn't start at three."

"It's just too early."

"Not for me, Mildred.  I don't like those people.  I want to get in and get out."

"We can't start it at three."

"Listen, Mildred, you're really pushing me on this."

"What?"

"I feel like I'm being strong-armed."

"You're being what now?"

"Strong-armed.  Maybe you can talk to your people and I'll talk to my people and we can work this out amicably."

"I can talk to Mary."

"That would be a good idea, Mildred.  I'd hate for things to get ugly."

"I'll call you back, Pastor."

"Thank you, Mildred," I said, and for some reason felt compelled to add:

"And God bless you."