Nobody swallows a frog. That is the misunderstanding AHEM has spent his whole career correcting. You don't get a frog in your throat by accident. He's assigned.
The assignment system is old and nobody remembers who built it. What matters is that the work order arrives, the water glass on the podium is his front door, and by the time you tap the microphone he is already seated comfortably behind your vocal cords with his equipment.
He is not sorry. He wants to be clear about that. The plumber is not sorry the pipes are where the pipes are. When you clear your throat — ahem, ahem — he hears it the way any tradesman hears a customer hovering: politely, and without stopping.
Retirement is not on the table. There are too many best men. There are too many people rehearsing "we need to talk" into bathroom mirrors, and every mirror has a water glass beside it eventually.