Back in the 70s I thought Rod Stewart was the greatest singer alive. For me he was heart-stopping. Especially when he strutted, mike (and stand) in hand, across the stage.
6:00 am one morning I was answering the room service phone at work. After I said, “Good morning, room service, how can I help you?” This quiet but scratchy voice replies, “Can I please have a screwdriver sent to my room?” Of course I knew immediately who was on the other end of the line. (He was playing in Glasgow the night before.) I had no idea what a Screwdriver was other than a handy-dandy screw remover. “And yeah, I’d like that with freshly squeezed orange-juice.”
“You’d like a screwdriver and a freshly squeezed orange juice?” “No, I’d like a screwdriver with freshly squeezed orange juice in it.” “Sorry Mr Stewart, but I’ve got no idea what kinda drink a screwdriver is. Can you hold on for a sec and I’ll check with my supervisor?” “Why don’t I just tell you what’s in it?” “Ok.” “It’s a Vodka and orange juice. But like I said, I like freshly squeezed orange in mine.” “Not a problem sir, I’ll squeeze the oranges myself! and send it right up.” “Thanks.”
And I did indeed squeeze the oranges myself. Right after I stopped jumping for joy and screaming. Of course, you know I made a whole jug of freshly squeezed O J just for him!