The restaurant I work for gets their fish delivered fresh daily.

Everyday at 11:00 a.m. the phone rings.

Everyday, including Sunday, and they call at 11:00 a.m. like clockwork.

You can count on it.

I answer the restaurant line to hear a voice on the other end say, “City Fish!”

“Good morning, City Fish!” I reply.

“Just calling to see if you need anything today.” The voice on the other end of the line states.

“Hold on.” I say, as I walk into the restaurant’s kitchen with the phone to my ear.

“City Fish!” I announce. The chef stares at me as if the idea City Fish is calling to get our order comes as a shock to him.

The kitchen staff begins scrambling through the coolers and discussing what we may need to order.

I wait.

The man from City Fish waits.

To break up the dead air I say, “You know, maybe if you called at the same time everyday, we would be prepared for this.”

I hear him laugh into the phone.

Finally, we manage to get our order together and I am able to repeat it and hang up the phone.

The following morning at 11:00 a.m. the phone rings.

“City Fish!” I hear a voice say as I pick up the phone.

“Good Morning City Fish!” I reply, “Let me get to the kitchen.”

“Guys, City Fish!” I call out, as everyone stands like deer in headlights.

“One minute.” The chef states, as the usual conversation and commotion among the staff ensues.

“Okay, we’re working on it now.” I say with a laugh, “Do you like to fish?”

“Yes, I do.” Replies the man on the phone.

To kill some time I ask, ” Have you every heard Brad Paisley’s fishing song, “I’m Gonna Miss Her?”

In the background, the kitchen staff is flustered, talking and opening and closing cooler doors, trying to figure out our order.

I can do a pretty good southern drawl as I begin to sing into the phone…