Red Light

In the middle of a rambling office conversation, I learned something interesting about M16.

"I had to check my voicemail right away so the red light would go away. I can't stand little red lights."

This caused considerable comment. "Little red lights? Seriously?" "I just can't stand them. They make me... ug! I had to make it go away."

My mind was on fire with possibilities. "You realize now that I'm gonna put red lights all over your desk." "Oh, don't do that! I just can't stand little red lights!" "You're not exactly discouraging me, you know."

That day, M16 left the office at 5. At 5:01, I picked up my phone and dialed his desk. At the voicemail prompt, I started a happy little song:

"YOU've, got a reeeeeed light!
A red light on your PHONE!
YOU've, got a reeeeeed light!
A red light ON your phone!"

I repeated the whole thing... second time through I let my voice go crazy-high and squeaky. Think "Alvin the chipmunk on Helium" and you've got the idea. It was loud.

When I hung up, Big Dawg was staring at me. His look of utter bafflement caused me more joy than my heart could contain.

"Now he'll have a red light on his desk!", I happily shouted. I even threw my arms up in the air.

"Oh, that's genius," Big Dawg agreed. He picked up his own phone. At M16's voicemail prompt, he quickly shouted "Red Light!" and hung up.

M16 has stopped telling me things. It's a defense mechanism, I think.