A Bewildering Phone Call from the Old Person

. . . wherein adverbs are overused and explanations are awaited.

Phone, loudly: *Ring*

Me, responsively: Hello?

Old Person, agitatedly: I'm sorry to bother you, Cindy, but we've got a problem. They've changed the numbers, and they won't tell us the new ones, and I don't know how to get them, so do you think we should call Aging Services about it?

Me, befuddledly: What?

Old Person, frantically: The numbers! They changed them! And they won't give me the new ones, and I don't know what to do. They said they'll only give them to the firemen and emergency services and paid help, and the access cards cost $8, and I told them that you're an unpaid volunteer, but they still wouldn't give them to me. And they told the doctor's office not to give the numbers to me either. Can you believe it? It don't seem right that they'd do something like that. I just don't know what to do. What do you think we should do?

Me, confusedly: I have not the pleasure of understanding you. Of what are you talking?

Old Person, deliberately: The numbers. At the gate. Where you come in. It's locked on Saturdays. They won't give me the new numbers, and they said an access card would cost $8.

Me, comprehendingly: Gotcha. You're saying that they changed the entry code at the gate to your complex.

Old Person, anxiously: Yes, and they won't give me the new ones. You should call my manager and ask for them and explain that you're an unpaid volunteer. And call me back tomorrow after you've talked to her.

Me, reluctantly: Okay.

Old Person, annoyedly: I don't see how they can do that. This is HUD housing, and don't they have to respect the rights of the people? How can they take away our rights like this? You're sort of like a paralegal or something, so what do you think?

Me, patiently: I'm not licensed to practice law; even if I were licensed I wouldn't be licensed in Utah; and even if I were licensed in Utah, I still wouldn't know anything about housing law.

Old Person, resignedly: Okay, well just call me back tomorrow after you talk to my manager.

Me, conclusively: All right. Goodbye.