Terrible, I know. I didn't intend to venture out of my style, but I had to in order to get something out of this. I was just about to delete it, but maybe that's a tad harsh.

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It was agreed amicably over breakfast one day - he would get a phone call, and they would discuss what needed to be discussed. "What is he going to ask", he wondered at first, but he left it there, and paid little heed to it until the day arrived.

He sat waiting for the phone to ring, having neatly set aside time in his schedule to sit around waiting for the call. It is true that he was not overly busy at the time, but he secretly enjoyed the thought of this temporary relief, for he enjoyed the fact that he was doing someone else a favour at his own expense. Maybe next week, over a coffee or a quick lunch, he could remark to his colleague of how his precious time was set aside for a call from someone he didn't even know. He imagined he would gain more respect as people saw what a generous man he was - At last, someone to look up to in this world! See him sacrifice his time for someone he doesn't know! If only we could be more like him! He suddenly felt silly and wondered if he had overdone that last part, but he felt happy anyway.

All the while, though, he was still waiting. Thirty minutes. One hour. Two. "What's going on?", he began to wonder with a mild sense of irritation. There was no doubt the longer he waited, the more respect he would gain. You waited a whole two hours!?!, he could hear his colleague exclaim. He still wanted that, very much so, but he hadn't reckoned on how difficult it would be. He couldn't help but feel that maybe he was wasting time, and that he couldn't afford to sit here much longer. He decided it was probably a good idea to get on with the rest of his day, but for some reason his mind lacked the necessary focus. He tried to get back to his papers, and started on the first one, but he couldn't keep his mind away from the phone. He kept pausing as he wrote, expecting the phone would ring and that he could then get the conversation out of the way. He initially dismissed this whole thing as being a shortcoming in his concentration, and decided to take some time off (aware of course that the past two hours were not particularly productive), and so he switched on his television, hoping to find some temporary relief.

Soon it had been three more hours. At this stage, with some repeat he had seen ten times before reliably acting itself out on television, he grew positively furious. Was this some kind of joke? Was it just a game to see how long he could be made to sit around and wait? There was a rational voice inside him that told him it was not a matter which deserved such attention, but he gave in to his anger, because he knew himself too well. He put on his jacket and in disgust, went out to clear his head, no longer caring if he received the call or not. The fresh air did him some good, as he exhaled a couple of times, took a deep breath and began to stroll around his neighbourhood. Pretty soon, he started to feel better, and he even ran into a friend he hadn't seen for a while. They engaged in pleasantries and by now, he had managed to shelve away the shameful proceedings of the day thus far.

When he returned, replenished and far more in control of himself, he noticed there were no messages on his phone. Still no call. For a minute or two, he began to wonder whether he had imagined the whole thing - was there a phone call at all? Had he even been promised a call, or was that a dream? He carefully thought back to the day before, back to the salt and eggs of breakfast, and the words rung clear. No, there was no doubting it, he had been told in no uncertain terms that he would get a call in the morning. Although he had temporarily resolved this confusion, it seemed to only add to his frustration, and he promptly sat down and did something particularly uncharacteristic. He wrote a letter that expressed just what he thought of these miserable tactics, keeping quiet the rational voice that was now screaming that he was making a terrible mistake, and that he would wake up regretting this. He consulted no thesarus, for the words he wanted to use came naturally to him.

He never did get a reply - but he never expected one. His life continued as normal, and the following month he had published yet another paper. He quickly forgot the whole incident, and his days were now bereft of the uncertainity of the call. It was not until many years later when, in keeping with his strict diet, he assessed the broccoli on his plate, that the mystery was solved.