Murphy’s Law – When you have a cold and sound terribly nasal, everyone will give you a phone call.

It’s horrible I tell you. It’s a darn conspiracy against me. It’s the universe I tell you – playing dirty tricks with me. I have a cold. And my nose is blocked making me sound extremely nasal. I already breathe and talk at the same time and sound like Yoda wheezing. My naturally awesome manly voice (similar to a very young Amitabh Bachchan) has been replaced by monosyllables or very short sentences, with heavy breathing. ‘No’ sounds like ‘doh’. A typical sentence coming out of my mouth is something like this, “ I hab bade the reboard as ber your regomendasions. We gan dry to group geewords that are berforming bedder and then waj the drend ober the nexd foo weegs” (I have made the report as per your recommendations. We can try and group keywords that are performing better and then watch the trend over the next few weeks.)

Coming back to Murphy’s law, it’s only when you sound like this, will everyone decide to call you over the phone. Some old friend who hasn’t spoken to me in ages decides to call and check on how my progress with the eternal quest was going. Another friend called up wanting to know if he could forward his resume to me. Some old agency I’ve worked with before called up to tell me that some payment has not been made. The dude sitting two cubicles away decides they would rather speak on the phone and not send me long detailed emails (like they always do). Knowing that you’re not going to respond, the lady in the next cubicle decides it is time to poke fun at me. (I had that coming for teasing her for all the times she had a cold).Lady Journalist who sounds really hot calls and I sound like Elmer Fudd."I gand dalk doo much….gould you send mbe a bail” (So much for my Lois Lane fantasy…Oops…). It’s a bloody conspiracy I tell you.

They’re all in this together…friends of old, hot sounding journalists, women, and colleagues. They’re all out to get me. If nothing else, everyone is asking me, (with the pity head tilt), “Are you ok? Do you feel unwell? You sound horrible!” I muster up the courage to say, “Oh no!!! I’m perfectly alright, fit as a fiddle! I’m just wearing this really thick jacket because I think it looks cool despite the fact that it’s bright and sunny outside. And as far as the voice goes, I’m fine. I’m just trying to sound totally sexy so that I can get a date.” But after rehearsing all that in my head, all I can go is, “ Doh, I’b feeling sig. Gand dalk”. And then cough like a moped almost out of fuel. At least one friend was kind enough to say, “Dude, you sound horrible. I’ll ask you questions later.”