DATE: Tuesday, September 23, 1997           TAG: 9709230033

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Column 

SOURCE: Elizabeth Simpson 

                                            LENGTH:   75 lines

HAVE YOUR CLONE CALL MY CLONE, AND WE'LL GET RIGHT BACK TO YOU

I BOUGHT A CLONE of myself last week.

Let's just call her Dolly.

I don't know why I did it. I guess I thought Dolly would simplify my life. I should know better, since I already have a clone at work.

She answers my phone for me when I'm not there. Some people call her voice mail; I call her Dolly, after the cloned sheep that got all that press attention earlier this year.

And while I know I should be grateful to Dolly, I often find myself resenting her.

She's not really me, you see, even though she sounds like me, telling you, ``I'm not here right now, but if you leave a message, I'll get back with you.''

See, right there, you have to wonder just a little about her integrity. How does she know I'm going to do that? And that cool, calm, sing-songy voice? Get outta here, that's not the real me!

Now Dolly is wonderfully efficient, I have to give her that. She's at the top of her game, which is not a whole lot like me, come to think of it.

It all puts a crimp in the whole cloning debate.

She takes everything down exactly, every name, every number, every complaint, every task and every person I'm supposed to call right away. She never transposes a number, never forgets anything, never writes a number down with a crayon, then accidently throws it away.

The thing that drives me crazy about her, though, is this: She doesn't do anything about all these messages she so efficiently collects.

She waits for me to do that. She won't do the heavy lifting.

And yet, she is always there, a silent gatherer. Gathering, gathering, gathering. While I'm on vacation, while I'm in the bathroom, even while I'm sleeping, she's always there, collecting things for me to do. She's sort of like my electricity meter, which keeps spinning and spinning and spinning, no matter how many appliances I unplug, or how many lights I turn off.

Yes, Dolly's a workhorse, no doubt about it. She rarely asks for a raise, (she leaves that to the phone company) never complains about long hours, never talks back.

Rather, she patiently, obediently waits for my return, then does that furious little ``beep-beep-beep-beep'' - her virtual scream for me to take care of business.

Others of you out there have Dollies too, I know that because I have called them many times. And I have found myself calling them at preposterous hours, knowing that if you're not there, your Dolly will be. And you, in turn, will probably call my Dolly, and I'll call your Dolly a few more times, and it's possible that we may never actually talk with one another, real person to real person.

I miss you. Really I do.

Our Dollies should go out some time. They seem to get along well.

I'm looking forward to the next generation of Dollies. The ones that will actually take the next step and do some of the work.

If a telephone solicitor calls: ``Have you seen her bank account lately? You've got to be crazy. Call someone else.''

Birthday party invitation for my daughters? ``No problem, I'll go out and buy a gift, then drop the kids off at the appointed hour. That way the real Liz can go to the spa.''

Dear old Dad? ``She's doing great, old man, but could you drop a check in the mail? She's coming up short this month. And about that tie you wore last Thanksgiving? Come on.''

Big sis? ``Sorry, she's out pursuing an ambitious career, raising perfect children, throwing in a few volunteer hours, cooking a gourmet dinner, and she'd love to talk to you, but she's so busy being just as good as you, even better, really, that she doesn't have time to chat, and NO, SHE'S NOT OBSESSING OVER IT EITHER, SO HANG UP THE PHONE.''

Oh dear. Perhaps this isn't such a good idea after all.

If you agree, or disagree, with any of this column, just call my Dolly, at 640-5555 (then press 4332) and she'll - oops, I'll - get right back with you.

(Really?)

Really.

Send Suggestions or Comments to webmaster@scholar.lib.vt.edu