Sorry, wrong number
So as I was sitting here on the couch, wracking my brain to think of a blog topic for the day, the phone rang.
It wasn't for me. It was for the people who used to have our number. Two and a half years ago.
I can only assume they had it for a long time, because they get more calls, even now, than we do. So many, in fact, that last year I actually spoke to them about it.
What happened was, a lady who sounded quite elderly called looking for them. I repeated my usual "They don't have this number anymore" speech, and she seemed very confused. We talked for a minute and she hung up (after saying goodbye and everything, she didn't just slam the phone down.)
Several minutes later the phone rang again. It was Mrs. Number. She was so sorry we were still getting her calls, they had no idea, etc. etc.
I was nice about it, although I couldn't help thinking that we wouldn't be still getting their calls if they had bothered to tell people what their new number was. Their golf club called once, for example. Their doctor's office. Various friends. The sort of people you would notify when you had a new number, you know?
The best part was, their doctor's office accidentally gave me their new number, which I wrote down. So I can now give their number out. Which, frankly, I do. Not indiscriminately, but...well, okay, kind of indiscrimately, sure. If someone calls for them and I feel like getting up to check the number I do.
It reminded me of a wrong number I am still pissed about now, which is like seven years later. I was watching...I believe I was watching Monk. I know I was watching a mystery, though, and it was the last ten minutes. You know, when you find out the answers? And my phone rang.
It was some guy, looking for some girl whose name I'd never heard. I tried explaining there was nobody there by that name and he didn't believe me. He kept insisting that he'd just spoken to her. He checked the number with me. He got very, very pissy.
Then he hung up on me. Made me miss the end of my show and never apologized. And of course, when I tried *69ing him, the number was untraceable.
I should have just hung up on him myself. Isn't it funny how we try to be polite ("I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number") even when we're the one being inconvenienced?
I have no doubt that guy met some chick in a bar and she gave him the wrong number, but that was no reason for him to be rude to me.
This happened to me several times, actually. Our number in Florida was one, too. The phone company is supposed to hold onto numbers for six months, but we had so many people insisting they'd just spoken to whomever in the weeks before that we believed they'd just reassigned it right out of the box. Lucky us.
Yeah, I know. It's not the most thrilling topic ever. Give me a break. I'm figuring out how to work the next scene in my WIP so I can start rolling toward the end--not far now (I hope!) Be glad I didn't try to make y'all give me a topic.
It wasn't for me. It was for the people who used to have our number. Two and a half years ago.
I can only assume they had it for a long time, because they get more calls, even now, than we do. So many, in fact, that last year I actually spoke to them about it.
What happened was, a lady who sounded quite elderly called looking for them. I repeated my usual "They don't have this number anymore" speech, and she seemed very confused. We talked for a minute and she hung up (after saying goodbye and everything, she didn't just slam the phone down.)
Several minutes later the phone rang again. It was Mrs. Number. She was so sorry we were still getting her calls, they had no idea, etc. etc.
I was nice about it, although I couldn't help thinking that we wouldn't be still getting their calls if they had bothered to tell people what their new number was. Their golf club called once, for example. Their doctor's office. Various friends. The sort of people you would notify when you had a new number, you know?
The best part was, their doctor's office accidentally gave me their new number, which I wrote down. So I can now give their number out. Which, frankly, I do. Not indiscriminately, but...well, okay, kind of indiscrimately, sure. If someone calls for them and I feel like getting up to check the number I do.
It reminded me of a wrong number I am still pissed about now, which is like seven years later. I was watching...I believe I was watching Monk. I know I was watching a mystery, though, and it was the last ten minutes. You know, when you find out the answers? And my phone rang.
It was some guy, looking for some girl whose name I'd never heard. I tried explaining there was nobody there by that name and he didn't believe me. He kept insisting that he'd just spoken to her. He checked the number with me. He got very, very pissy.
Then he hung up on me. Made me miss the end of my show and never apologized. And of course, when I tried *69ing him, the number was untraceable.
I should have just hung up on him myself. Isn't it funny how we try to be polite ("I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number") even when we're the one being inconvenienced?
I have no doubt that guy met some chick in a bar and she gave him the wrong number, but that was no reason for him to be rude to me.
This happened to me several times, actually. Our number in Florida was one, too. The phone company is supposed to hold onto numbers for six months, but we had so many people insisting they'd just spoken to whomever in the weeks before that we believed they'd just reassigned it right out of the box. Lucky us.
Yeah, I know. It's not the most thrilling topic ever. Give me a break. I'm figuring out how to work the next scene in my WIP so I can start rolling toward the end--not far now (I hope!) Be glad I didn't try to make y'all give me a topic.