I quickly called her back:
"Death Review, this is Michelle."
For real? For real, for real? I must go about applying to the Office of Death Review RIGHT NOW. And until they hire me, that's how I will be answering the phone at my current non-death affiliated office.
Later that afternoon, I bothered to open my mail and noticed that one was addressed to the "Department of Confusion and Retardation." Very clever. (We're Corrections and Rehabilitation). Even better that it actually made it all the way to me addressed as such.
I celebrated all of this by walking down the road to a restaurant for lunch with the Lunch Girlfriend and drinking an enormous cranberry margarita she insisted on buying before stumbling back up the road and having some probably totally inappropos convo with the boss. I guess I'm officially a hardened alcoholic now.