Receptionists often receive people’s worst

The poodle was tethered to my desk. Impeccably groomed with a green bow, it tilted its head and eyed me with curiosity. We were both unsure of our positions. This wasn’t a pet-friendly office that allowed Fidos and Fluffie to roam about. It was a mid-sized law firm and the dog’s owner was a client. I was the fill-in receptionist.

The client, a well-dressed middle-aged woman, had strutted off the elevator and asked for her attorney. Then she tied the poodle’s leash to a desk leg and said, ‘‘You don’t mind, do you?’’ The attorney seemed unperturbed. He patted the poodle on the head without looking at me and led his client to a conference room.

I do mind, I thought to myself. I mind very much. The dog barked loudly every time the phone rang and growled at every client who stepped off the elevator. The attorney’s assistant privately explained to her boss that the dog was being a nuisance. What if nature called, we wondered? But I knew it was a lost cause.

Fortunately the client meeting was short enough that nothing else eventful happened. The full-time receptionist and I could eventually laugh at the incident, but there were other instances that were not so amusing. In a field where a professional image is critical, we were constantly smoothing rough performances — by our lawyers, their clients, and even the odd caller.

I don’t know what it was. Something about interactions with receptionists encouraged perfectly professional folks to become ill-mannered, rude, or even abusive. We saw some pretty ugly sides of people, sides that were rarely shown to others. Did our colleagues and clients think we were indifferent, or just too stupid to notice or care?

We were often expected to demonstrate superhuman powers. Seeing through walls was a common command and our inability to do so put us at a tremendous disadvantage.

‘‘Doesn’t Aattorney Franklin have a secretary?’’ one of the partners scowled at me one day. Oh, attorney Franklin had a very efficient secretary, but she was obviously away from her desk when the partner called her. Since I couldn’t see where she was, however, I was apparently responsible for her disappearance. The secretary had been at the copier, it turned out, clearing a pesky paper jam amid a 100-page copying project.

Similarly, we became the tattletale repository when conference rooms were highjacked. ‘‘Barker is in conference room A!’’ someone would invariably whine. ‘‘I’m supposed to have conference room A!’’ So we would flip through the conference room sign-up book, find out who was in the wrong, and find alternate space.

There were frequent reminders of how embarrassing it was to walk in on another client meeting with your client in tow. ‘‘How come you didn’t tell me the room was occupied?’’ I was once asked. I was tempted to murmur a curt reply about X-ray vision, but at the time, I needed this job.

Callers could also challenge us. This was before voice mail became an office standard, so much of the job involved calming down clients when an attorney or assistant was unavailable and their calls bounced back to the switchboard. ‘‘I’m sorry; he’s out of the office this morning,’’ I would say. ‘‘Well, where did he go?’’ the caller would demand. Once another caller said, ‘‘When he gets out of the bathroom, have him call me!’’

One of my favorite questions was ‘‘how long will she be on the phone?’’ (Or in the meeting, or in the bathroom, for that matter.) My crystal-ball skills were not completely developed then, unfortunately, and I got earfuls for it.

‘‘Why don’t you know?’’ a caller would ask.

I had other favorite phone interactions. Every once in a while, someone would ask to speak to Aattorney Spinetti, one of the founding members of the firm. The problem was, Spinetti died in 1957. I would respectfully explain that this gentleman was long deceased. ‘‘No,’’ one caller insisted. ‘‘You’re wrong. I talked to him last week!’’ Was the caller thinking of another Aattorney Spinetti? No. Perhaps the caller was mixing him up with someone else? No. Albert Spinetti. That was the one.

Another time, a woman blurted, ‘‘Is adultery legal grounds for divorce in Massachusetts?’’

‘‘I’m sorry, but I’m not an attorney.,’’ I answered. ‘‘Let me connect you to our family law department and they can help you.’’

‘‘I don’t want to talk to them!’’ the woman shot back. ‘‘Can’t you just tell me if I can file for divorce because my husband cheated on me?’’

I had to hold my tongue. I wanted to say, ‘‘sure, I can tell you anything, but because I’m not licensed to practice law, it will be meaningless.’’

Reception work is commonly thought to be easy — just answering the phones, chatting all day, taking in deliveries from UPS, maybe calling to order sandwiches for meetings. That’s all there is to it, right?

But good receptionists are communications specialists, therapists, sometimes housekeepers or maids. They are problem-solvers, finding last-minute remedies to fix a squeaky elevator or a sticky restroom door — all the while being a model of a kind, since looking perfect is usually required.

Most important, they are the office diplomats, but without the status of statesman. And if they are cheerful dog sitters, pyshics, psychics, and conjurers of the dead, so much the better.

If you want to write about the view from your cube, send e-mail to cube@globe.com.