A few years ago, friends of mine owned a local answering service.
Mike was a struggling actor, and his partner - Holly - a ventriloquist. Both were talented artists trying to make a go of it in Tinsel town.
They hatched up the idea to make ends meet until their ships came in, and were delightfully surprised when their business acumen surpassed all their wildest expectations.
"A Professional Answer" became a huge success in the community at large and not just with celebrities.
Of course, message services were precursors to those pesky little cell phone dealies that dominate the landscape now.
Who knew?
Yes, leading-edge technology was about to take off, and transform the communications industry forever.
Meanwhile, Mike and Holly made a lot of hay while the sun shone.
Initially, the duo started off on a shoestring budget; practically working out of a closet on the Sunset strip in West Hollywood.
In due time, the hard-working stiffs had nabbed high-profile clients like John Travolta, Kaye Ballard, Allan Carr, George Maharis, and Alice Cooper.
One day, Mike just about went through the roof when Raquel Welch dialed up and requested service. After all, the ultra-sultry sex Goddess was his fave megastar.
He implored all of his employees,
"I don't care if you have to get down on your knees and kiss her p****, just make her happy. And, don't ever run the risk of losing her as a client."
On occasion, I lent a hand in the cramped charming little office; usually in the twilight hours when the calls tended to run at a snail's pace.
The answering service still facilitated the old PBX Boards; you know, like the ones that famed comedienne - Lily Tomlin - made famous in her "Ernestine" the operator skits. (By the way, Ms. Tomlin was a client, too. That's another story, later!)
So, when a phone would ring, the board would light up. Just like in the sketch with Lily, one signal would count for one ringie-dingie.
On the third ringie-dingie (unless specified by the client) the operators assumed that the individual was out or inclined to not answer - and so - would proceed to pick up and jot down a message.
As I was glued to the screen of a lowly Black and White TV, devouring scenes from - "Mary Hartman Mary Hartman" - the Curtis line lit up.
Oh yeah, forgot to mention that. Raquel Welch's plain old "married name" - Curtis -used on the service.
Near the end of a big belly laugh, triggered by a hilarious quip on the off-beat comedy show, the third ringie-dingie sounded. So, I stretched my long elegant hand across the board, snapped up the black cord, and plugged into the Curtis line to answer the call.
"Curtis residence," I answered smartly.
There was a brief silence, then - oh-my-God - I heard a distinct heavy breathing.
As I was about to utter a response, suddenly I heard Raquel say,
"Hello. Hello?"
There was no verbal response, only heavy passionate breathing.
"Is that you, Ms. Curtis?" I queried in my most-bestest professional tone of voice.
At this juncture, Raquel noted she was experiencing a problem with a heavy-breather or something.
I instructed her to call me back on the trunk line (where clients dialed in for their messages) so we could continue the discussion in private.
She did. So, we continued.
According to Ms. Welch, whenever she picked up the phone, some wacko was on the end of the line breathing heavy.
More importantly, Raquel noted she was expecting an important business call from overseas which she did not want to miss.
Alas, what was a girl to do?
In view of the dilemma, I hatched a scheme.
When the phone rang again, I instructed her to pick up the line on the third ring only - at which point - I would plug in on the line in unison with her so the caller would not hear her pick up or be mindful of the fact she had answered the call.
In the event her desired contact was on the phone, I would simply hang up, and she'd continue with the conversation.
On the other hand, if the breather commenced again with his sicko act, Raquel would simply drop the cradle of the telephone and I would deal with the deviant character.
So, we stuck to the plan throughout the evening, until the anonymous caller eventually gave up and packed it in for the night.
"Oh, you were so wonderful," Raquel gushed afterward.
Well, that's why I get paid so handsomely in doughnuts and coffee, 'ya know?
A film Raquel Welch scorched up the screen in!