The short list

So I'm talking to Donny the other day.
He was scheduled to call me at 9:30 a.m. to discuss his and Marie's new CD release when the phone rang around 9.
I picked it up and said "Hello?" carefully, ready to bump any telemarketer or neighbor or friend off the line if I needed to do so. (Grandkids would get a little more consideration.)
"Sharon?" said the male voice. "This is Donny Osmond."
"Oh," I said, trying to get my bearings and ramp up for the interview. "You're early!"
"I know," Donny said. "I wanted to be sure I had the right telephone number. I tried to call you a while back to thank you for the story you did on our Las Vegas show but the newspaper wouldn't give me your number."
What?
Are you kidding me?
I know The Deseret News has a pretty strict policy about giving out home phone numbers. (It keeps the nut jobs from finding us except at the workplace.)
But this is crazy.
Why wouldn't I want an Osmond, especially Donny Osmond, to find me?
And who is the idiot that turned him away? Why didn't anyone ask me what I wanted and since when do we turn down a compliment on a story?
I chewed on this for a bit after I finished the phone interview and have now come up with a new policy, effective immediately:
Anytime somebody with the last name of Osmond, Redford, Pitt or Clooney wants to talk to me, put 'em through.