(diaryland) September 4, 2001 - 9:54 a.m.

A guy rang up our work and I answered the phone.

�Hi. I�m in diabolical trouble,� he said.

This in itself isn�t such a big deal. Lots of people who ring up our work are in diabolical trouble. They�ve got objections to their planning permits, the carpenter put a post where it�s not meant to be, they just went bankrupt, etc.

I couldn�t figure out exactly why this guy was in diabolical trouble, though. He started to ramble, so I thought I should get some basic information. I said, �What�s your name?�

�Tennis,� he said.

�What?� I said.

�Tennis!� he said.

�Can you spell that, please?� I said.

�T E N N I S, of course!� he said. I wrote it down. Tennis. �I was born in Melbourne in 1956, the same year as the Olympics. I don�t mean to be sarcastic or anything. But my wife just kicked me out and I need somewhere to sleep tonight and I�ve got all these books here I�ve been reading.�

�What kind of books?� I asked. I thought maybe they�d be books about building or something.

�Biology books,� he said. I wrote it down and underlined it. Biology.

�So why are you ringing us?� I asked.

�Because I need somewhere to sleep tonight!� he said.

�Well, we�re an office,� I said. �We close at night. Have you tried ringing the Salvation Army?�

�Yeah!� he said. �They told me to ring you!�

Then came a massive conversation where I discovered he had dialled one number wrongly and I tried to explain that to him. He found it very difficult to understand, he dropped his pen, and when he did finally understand, he still thought somehow I knew the people personally he was meant to ring. He also asked for a crisis line.

�I don�t know any, sorry.� I said. �But you should try looking in the front of the phone book.�

�But I don�t want to touch anything in the house!� he said. �I�m even on my mobile phone.�

�Hey, this phone call is going to cost you a lot of money. You�d better hang up and try ringing the other number,� I said.

�It�s not going to cost my wife a lot of money, It�s going to cost ME a lot of money!� he said.

�Yeah, that�s what I said,� I said. �You�d better hang up right now and try the other number.�

�It�s twenty to four,� he said.

�It�s getting late!� I said. �You�d better get onto those people straight away so you can get shelter tonight!�

�I�m trying to figure out where you�re from,� he said.

�We�re an architectural office,� I said.

�Oh, SHIT!� he said. �Actually, I meant what nationality are you?�

�Australian,� I said.

�But your parents are from England,� he said.

�NO!� I said. �Why do you think that?�

�Well, where are they from?� he asked.

I couldn�t be fucked explaining which countries my parents are from so I said, �They�re from Australia too.�

�SHIT.� he said.

�Look, you�d better hang up now any try the other number before it�s too late in the day,� I said.

�But listen to me!� he said. �You have a really nice day, OK?�

�You too! Good luck!� I said, but he�d already hung up.

My boss told me off for talking to him for so long but I knew Tennis was very upset and he probably really needed someone to chat to. Also, if I was in his situation, I�d be glad if someone didn�t hang up on me rudely.

One time, when I was walking down the street, a bunch of homeless Aboriginies asked me for money. I said I didn�t have any, but I had a chat with them anyway and they told me it was really nice because most people don�t even look at them when they ask for money.

But one other time, a lady came up to me at the train platform and did a big dramatic spiel and asked me for money to get a train ticket. �How did you manage to get onto the train platform without a ticket, then?� I asked.

�Uh����.. But I have cancer!� she yelled.

I decided to help this lady out anyway even thought she was bugging the shit out of me. �All I�ve got is these coins,� I said.

�I don�t want coins!� she shouted, and stormed off. Stupid cancer chick. I hate crappy spiels. I�ll give them as much money as I can whether they have stupid shitty stories or not. Often they aren�t true because they tell you the exact same story a few weeks later. �Hi. My name�s Little Stevie. My dad kicked me out last night for something I didn�t do. My brother has no legs. I need a hundred dollars from you to buy him new ones.�

Poor Tennis didn�t have a spiel. He was just nuts. Good luck to the guy.