A voice on the other end picks up. It sounds like the receptionist. She has that twangy receptionist voices, that nasal-sounding New York City accent that reminds you vaguely of Fran Drescher.
"Hello, Day-Ath Carpentry, what's yer problem?"
You explain the situation to the receptionist, who sounds like she's taking notes. You hear the far away sound of typing, distorted by the low fidelity of the phone line, punctuated by an "Mm-hmm" from the woman every now and then.
She pages the namesake of the company, and tells you he'll be right over. Moments after you've hung up the phone, the doorbell rings. You go to answer.