"Yes, I was just calling to confirm an order."
"Oh okay. Go ahead."
"Do you in fact work for a corporation? We cannot sell to any Tom, Dick, or Lamont with a credit card."
"Yes, for a University."
"Good, good. Now I just have a few more questions to check off from your order. You can in fact go outside during daylight?"
"Last I checked."
"No being obscured by mirrors? You don't have an insane fear of garlic and other aromatics? Never once have you compared bats and wolves to children and music? You don't feel compelled to count every poppy seed thrown at you?"
"No, no, no, and well sometimes I get bored with my spice cupboard but I wouldn't call it obsessive."
"You've never huddled with two of your friends around a cauldron and called for crazy ingredients like a tiger's chaudron or the wool of a bat?"
"To my knowledge no. There was that one time I did come across a man and his upward moving wife and tried messing with him but there was no murder involved. Just some paparazzi pictures."
"Never once have you felt the need to put on a bunch of leather, start drawing bad pentagrams on the floor and invoke the Beatles?"
"No, I can honestly say I never once thought to do that."
"All right, Ma'am. According to my chart you are not some bride of Satan. We'll ship you your 100 mL's of defibrilated sheep's blood tomorrow. Thanks for ordering from us."
Just another day in the life of a research technician waiting for blood to show up in the mail and having people call to make sure you aren't some weird twisted vampire or witch who will use it for more nefarious purposes than getting bacteria to grow up in vast quantities.