A Day in the Life of an Art Museum Phone Operator, in Haiku -The Toast

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Screen Shot 2015-08-05 at 1.54.35 PMAre you real? Well, yes.

Is it raining outside now?

…I’m in a basement.


The Dali show, from

seven years ago, I missed.

Can I still go now?


Who replaces your

American flags? May I

speak with them? URGENT.


 

We close at five. If

I arrive at five, when would

I need to leave? Five.


I found a Miro

in my attic. Can you buy

it? Not at all fake.


Picasso found in

gated community yard.

Definitely real.


Dental assistant

calls about tooth art that should

be in the museum.


I want to bring my

mini horse to the museum.

That should be fine, right?


Son in college has

assignment. Needs hand holding.

You should do his work.


A show, forty years

ago. Transfer me to the

curator please. Now.


Who were the very

first donors? The more recent

ones get their credit.


Why are there stairs? I

don’t like that you’re on a hill.

You should be lower.


The museum is not

free. This upsets you greatly.

And it’s my fault.


The prices are too

high. I’m not buying tickets,

just thought you should know.


There was a Rodin

at another museum.

So what was its name?


 

Can you tell me where

the skate park is? What do you

mean, you don’t know? Why?


Other museums have

a different parking system,

and this upsets me.


Our hours are ten to

five. Every day. No matter

how often you ask.


Do you guys have the

dinosaurs? You should, they’re much

better than paintings.

Maia Brown-Jackson is a recovering English major working at an arts organization. While drinking too much coffee and eating too much sugar, she’s writing like a madwoman and learning Twitter and Tumblr.

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