Phone-y Business

In my dreams, I am a famous, globetrotting writer, zipping to different corners of the globe on a bottomless expense account as I cover the hottest topics.

In reality, however, I am a merely a pseudo freelancer with nary an expense account. The extent of my “world” travel reaches no farther than the Upper East Side. And with a not-so-glamorous full-time job, I’m chained to my desk all day. So, instead of flying to England for an in-person meeting with an expert on the subject of my next National Geographic KIDS piece, I must resort to a boring ol’ phone interview.

No big deal. 90% of my interviews are done over the phone. But this time it’s different: I’ve yet to interview anyone overseas since I left Geographic. Before, I could just close my office door, dial up any number in the world, and boom. Interview’s over and done with. Now, I have no simple method of making an international phone call. No office. No door to close. (My co-workers will just have to deal.) No land line at home. No access code at work. No way can I call England on my crappy cell phone. So what do I do when the interview is just 24 hours away?

Heeding Karl’s advice, I ventured out to some of Lexington Avenue’s finest newsstands in search of an international calling card. The journey reminded me of my frequent visits to a particularly swarthy Checks Cashed joint on 14th Street during one summer in college. Every two weeks, I waited “on line” with the other sad sacks to trade in my internship paycheck for cold, hard cash. Back then, I didn’t have access to my Fred-Neck bank. And now, I can’t make a long distance call. I’d like to think I’ve made great strides, responsibility-wise, since college, but now I’m not so sure!

Anyway, I wound up at a tiny newsstand amidst a steady stream of folks laying $1 bills on the counter and receiving Lottery Tickets in return. As I perused the various calling cards hung up on one wall, they stood next to me, clutching their pink tickets with one hand and feverishly scratching off thick layers of silver ink to disappointing results: No winners today.

After plugging the guy behind the counter with a battery of questions about the calling cards (to which he repeatedly answered, “They all good. Very, very good.”), I selected a $5 version. Apparently, it has 500 minutes on it. My interview should only last about 20. But the last thing I need as I try to be a “professional writer” is to be interrupted by an automated voice telling me my minutes are dwindling. 500 will do.

So I bought the card, and I’m hopeful that this thing actually works. And maybe, the next time I have to interview someone out of the country, I’ll get to do it in person.