First Response

Sometimes you don't have to look too far into things.

Two days ago, Sam and I needed a drain guy. Our gutter downspout had been trying in vain to empty into a drain that had been clogged for years. I considered Mr. Rooter and Roto-Rooter and Mr. Drain and Doctor Clog, but Sam advised me to call 1st Response. Apparently we used them years ago and he thought they did a good job.

So, I called. Based on past experience, reinforced by cultural stereotypes, at the other end of the line I expected either a robot saying that number is no longer in service or a bored voice gruff from years of chain-smoking. Instead, it was someone who sounded exactly like Randy Rainbow.

“Let’s see what I can do for you, sweetie. Is it an emergency?” I told him no. “Today I’m booked solid. Completely jammed. Tomorrow I have the teensiest window between nine and ten. How ‘bout I give you a ring when we’re on our way?”

So yesterday morning, Randy soundalike called (“Hello, sweetie!”) to say the plumber was en route.

The plumber arrived. He looked like I had preconceived him, based on past experience, reinforced by cultural stereotypes. Shaved head, work boots, tattooed, and though I didn’t examine his pants when he bent over, I bet that, too. “Hello,” I said, waiting for a gravelly grunt. But what emerged was the sonorous voice of my sweet son-in-law to be, Dan. I had to stop myself from surreptitiously recording him on my phone because I wanted to Dan to hear his vocal doppelganger.

Two days, one clean drain pipe, and an as-yet to nail down common theme. Was it specifically, vocal expectations, my general blanket assumptions, my first response… wait, 1st Response? That’s when it hit me that the instructive universe might just have an ironic sense of humor.