The Phone as a Weapon of Mass Frustration

My new favorite place to get a cheap laugh is this site; the timing is perfect, too, because they post their new stuff for the day during the hour that I'm noodling here on the PC before signing off to get ready for work.

Today's offering was a phone conversation that brought back several vivid memories of similar encounters. Two of these took place when I worked for the psychologist back 20 years or so.

Giving driving directions to the emotionally fragile is always an adventure.

Me: So, take I-75 to exit 201, then turn left at the bottom of the exit ramp.
Caller: At the bottom of the what?
Me (feeling like the idiot here for some reason): The exit ramp. You know, you get off the interstate, and there's that little road that takes you to the road you're trying to get to...
Caller: What little road? What's the name of it?
Me: Let's try this again...

A person who doesn't know what an exit ramp is should NOT be driving themselves to an appointment to take an IQ test.

Another time:
Me: Make a left turn at the light, into our parking lot. There are three office buildings. Look for the one with the big "Sports Institute" sign at the top.
Caller: The big sign that says what?
Me: "Sports Institute."
Caller: Forks Institute?
Me: No, SPORTS. You know, sports. Baseball, football, soccer, SPORTS.
Caller: It's a baseball park?
Me (thinking, not saying): You just hang on, I'm gonna run over to the nearest bar and toss back a few, and then I'll be ready to talk to you some more...