Wednesday, 21 May 2003 | Valerie

Her name is Valerie, and she keeps calling me. "Hi Lisa, this is Valerie [mumble] from the Lighthouse." She always begins the same way, in her distinctly northern drawl, as if a wad of Bubblicious controls the movements of her jaw. I think she's in her 40s. She's really warm and friendly, and she leaves me long messages, telling me things like: They put a raise in the budget for hourly employees (like yourself)...[mumbles] which is a good thing. Could you give me a call back and let me know whether or not you plan to return? I know that you made a recommendation for one of your staff members. I'd like to get Pat a gift certificate, and I was wondering if you could chip in. Could you send Mike a fax to let him know about Saturday?

She makes me doubt my sanity for a moment during each call. Because I honestly don't know anyone named Valerie (or Pat, for that matter), I've never heard of a place called the Lighthouse, I don't earn an hourly wage, and I don't have any staff members. The order of my thoughts is predictable: 1. Is it possible I've done some work for some group and don't remember it? 2. I mean, she knows my name and phone number. 3. No, that's ridiculous. 4. That poor woman. She sounds so nice, and she's counting on me to chip in for Pat's gift certificate. 5. I bet if I really did work at the Lighthouse, she'd be a good person to work with. 6. How did she get my number?

Tonight she finally left her phone number at the end of her long, friendly, informative(?) message. I hope she's not disappointed tomorrow when I tell her I'm not who she thinks I am. I wonder if the real Lisa misses hearing from her.

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A couple of updates: That issue with the stolen code and pictures had a happy ending. Also, I turned in my Day in the Life: Brooklyn photos today; here are the ones I ended up choosing: 1, 2, 3, 4. (Thank you to everyone who gave feedback.)