“Hi, looking for a number in Weston, Florida. Is there anything for Magruder?” “How are you spelling that, sir?” “Magruder. M-A-G-R-U-D-E-R.” “Hold the line, sir.” Vivaldi’s Four Seasons started playing for what seemed like an eternity. It was probably only a couple of seconds. Eventually, the woman came back on the line. “Yes, sir, I’ve got one in the town of Weston, Florida.”
