Moose. No, really.
So here I am, sometime in the spring of 1994, working at an 'answering service'. Basically what this place was in those cro-Magnon ur-Internet days was the telephonic equivalent of a call girl; we'd do anything, we just had to negotiate the price.

Some highlights of this job from Purgatory:
1) The night some nice lady ordering gospel music CDs from us (on a toll-free number) asked if we were a 'Christian answering service'. Staff that night was three eclectic Wiccans and a virulent athiest. Did manage to keep a straight face on that one.
2) The times we lied to people about their cable coming back on. See, at this time it was illegal for a cable television company to outsource their night dispatch -- but this one did anyway. We had no way to get them service and no one who cared, so for our own self-preservation we'd make stuff up. 'Yes, sir, your Nashville Network is out because terrorists blew up a satellite'.
3) The time a certain cell phone company (rhymes with Smellular Bun) had their main tower go down -- during the weekend of the Indianapolis 500. (Did I mention this was in Indianapolis, in the US? A brief explanation follows*.) We were slammed with calls, and these were people who had an elevated sense of their own importance. I managed to keep my cool until some asshat asked me 'Do you mean that this phone I pay XXXX for is useless?' To which I responded, 'Sir, what you have there is a two-hundred-dollar paperweight'. Then hung up. (Didn't get in trouble for that one.)
4) But the best of all -- picture it if you will. I'm working 10pm-6am with a new baby at home. The then-Mrs Jack is working 8am-5pm. I get MAYBE five hours of sleep a night (day) before the baby wakes up.
So...5:55am. Woman calls in to one of our clients, an animal removal service. (You know, if you have a hedgehog in the kitchen or a skunk under the porch.) She's SCREAMING. Finally I get her calmed down enough for her to tell me, "There's a flying squirrel in my bedroom!"
And without thinking, I respond from the depths of my fatigue, "Is there a moose in there with him?" I did get in trouble for that one.

*The Indianapolis 500: 200,000 drunk people and 50,000 corporate slime monkeys watch forty or so people drive very fast in a circle until someone has driven 500 miles. Or there's a spectacular, fiery crash.
(springjack The King Of Pygmy Marmosets!, Tue 8 Sep 2009, 23:51, Reply)