San Francisco.
An unremarkable three-story office building on the outskirts of the city houses the Matthew Davis Cancer Research Foundation. The office building has been around for some years, with a very rustic gray exterior, and the logo of the foundation is not eye-catching, which often makes it hard for first-time visitors to find it.
In front of the office building is a small parking lot, where several cars of different ages and styles are parked, silently bearing the erosion of the rain.
"Damn it!"
Eddie Lewis pushed open the car door, glared at the gloomy sky, and got out of the car. He held his briefcase above his head in one hand and a paper cup of coffee in the other, and hurried into the office building against the cold wind and rain.
"Hi! Eddie, you're late!" The receptionist smiled and handed him a tissue. "It's bad weather, isn't it? Wipe yourself, don't catch a cold."
"It's terrible! There was a traffic jam on the road!"
Eddie put the coffee cup at the front desk, took the paper towels to dry his cheeks and bald head, wiped the rain from his glasses, and chatted with the receptionist about the weather.
"I'm going up first, see you later!" He threw the tissue into the trash can, picked up the coffee and signaled to the receptionist, walked into the elevator, and adjusted his tie in front of the mirror in the elevator.
He is a volunteer of the foundation, using his days off to serve the foundation without compensation, and has worked for the foundation for almost ten years so far.
He was a little late today because he happened to be stuck in a traffic jam while driving by near Chinatown in San Francisco. Traffic jams are common in San Francisco, but today’s traffic jams are caused by unusual reasons—the Chinese lion dance team performed lion dances on the street to celebrate the New Year. The gongs, drums, and firecrackers were blaring. It was very lively and attracted a large number of locals and tourists to watch. The traffic jam was tight, and the weather was bad, so the vehicles were moving as slowly as a snail.
He should have thought earlier that it is the Lunar New Year period in China, and the influence is so great that it cannot escape even in the United States.
It wasn't the first time he was late during Chinese New Year, but it wasn't his fault, who made Chinese New Year's time not fixed, and he couldn't remember the variable date at all. It would be great if it could be fixed, such as setting Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November every year like in the United States, so that he can remember it and take a detour during the Spring Festival.
Ding!
The elevator stopped on the third floor, the elevator door opened, and his office was here.
"Good morning, Eddie!"
"Good morning!"
In the corridor, he greeted the colleagues of the foundation who passed by. Most of these people, like him, were volunteers serving the foundation without pay. Some of them had family members who died of cancer, and some of them just wanted to Help, Eddie falls into the latter category.
"Yes, Eddie!"
The colleague who greeted him just now stopped him from behind.
"What?" he asked back.
"When I passed by your office just now, I heard a phone ringing." The man said as he stepped back.
"Thanks. I'm late today," Eddie nodded his thanks. "Ah, let's have a drink at a nearby bar tonight? I mean, assuming it doesn't rain."
"Okay, see you soon."
Eddie took out the key and opened the door of the fundraising office. There was no one in the office, and he was the only one going to work today. He glanced at the landline on the table—it wasn't ringing at the moment, but the call recording indicator light was blinking, indicating that there was one or more call recordings waiting to be played.
He put his briefcase and paper cup of coffee on the table, pressed the answering machine button, and took off his rain-soaked coat and hung it on the coat rack.
"Hello, the fundraising office of the Matthew Davis Cancer Research Foundation. We are not working now. Please leave a message after the beep. We will reply you at your convenience."
His pre-recorded voice came from the answering machine.
"Hello, is there anyone? I want to inquire about donations... Forget it, I'll call back later." An elderly woman's voice came from the phone.
The other party only said such a sentence and hung up the phone.
Eddie Lewis's daily work is mainly responsible for making and answering the phone. He has heard the voices of many people, and can even judge some simple information about the owner of the voice based on the voice. The woman who called just now spoke with a distinct Southern California accent. She should be over sixty years old, and her tone is gentle and decent. She is obviously a well-educated and well-bred person—mostly a fundraiser for the foundation. One of the main objects.
It is not surprising that there are several calls like this every day.
However, Eddie glanced at the caller's number inadvertently, but couldn't help frowning—it was a transoceanic call, and the area code was neither the United States nor Canada, and he only remembered the area codes of these two countries. And the other party's area code is very strange.
The Matthew Davis Foundation rarely receives donations from abroad. Donors are mainly from North America, and occasionally some Europeans.
A long-distance call from abroad with a local Californian accent aroused some interest in him.
Will she call again
Judging from experience, the chances are about half to half.
Some people decide to donate on the spur of the moment, and they may regret it after calming down, and they will not call again; there are also some people who choose donation recipients at random, and occasionally find the number of the Matthew Davis Foundation in the phone yellow pages, and then call , If no one answers, switch to another agency, it doesn't make much difference to the donor.
But there was no way around it. It was all due to the lion dance team he met in the morning, which caused him to be late. It would be a pity if the foundation missed a large donation because of this.
Eddie stood by the window, looking at San Francisco in the hazy drizzle, took a sip of coffee to warm his body.
He hates rain, and he hates getting wet, just like the cat of unknown breed at home, but it always rains in San Francisco this season, and it is often cloudy and cold for several days in a row. People are in a bad mood.
After thinking about it, he replayed the recording of the phone call just now.
He has good hearing, and it seems that he can vaguely hear meowing from the background. Does the other party also like cats
what to do? Want to dial back
The other party has already explained that they will call back later, maybe dialing at this time will make the other party feel unhappy or not be trusted...
Eddie hesitated.
Jingle Bell!
Just then, the phone rang again.
"Hi, Matthew Davis Cancer Research Foundation Fundraising Office..." The answering machine picked up the call. Only then did Eddie remember that the answering machine hadn't been turned off, and he picked up the receiver quickly.
"Hi, hello, I'm Eddie Lewis," he said.
"Hi, I'm Catherine Donna Ryan, you can call me Cathy."
The same voice came from the phone.