Caller ID-iot
Actual transcript of a call I received this morning:
Me: "Hello?"
Idiot: "Hi, Julie?"
Me: "No, sorry, you've got the wrong number"
Idiot: "Is Julie there?"
Me: "No, you have the wrong number."
Idiot: "Julie Morris."
Me: "Goodbye" (it was just too early in the morning for me to explain that if there are no Julies here, there are probably also no Julie Morrises, no matter how you emphasize the name.)
Sigh. If you know Julie Morris, be sure and tell her an idiot is trying to reach her.
This reminded me of my friend T and the problem he used to have at his old place. He used to get calls for John all the time. Creditors, girls he'd had one night stands with (who thought they had his real number), sales people, etc. They'd never believe T when he told them it wasn't John's number any more. Then one night, he got a call around 2 am - a very angry and drunk-sounding guy said "John, you better get down here! You (expletive deleted)!!! I know what you did with my woman!!" T tried to explain but the guy would have none of it. He even yelled "I know you knocked her up last night!!"
T and I are impressed that they were already aware the next day that she'd been knocked up. Finally, tired, annoyed and at the end of his (already short) patience, T said "Oh yeah, what're you gonna do about it?"
Drunk man: "Get down here, so I can kick your ass!!"
T: "No."
Drunk man: "I know where you live, I'll come kick your ass there!!"
T: "Sounds good, see you soon."
Turned out the guy felt he was too drunk to drive, but he promised to come kick "John's" butt first thing in the morning. T pushed for a time, but the guy wouldn't set a specific appoint, just "first thing in the morning". We've often wondered if John got up the next morning, went out to get his paper and found an angry hung-over guy waiting for him.
A few months after that, T moved and got a new phone number. He was thrilled that he'd never have to take another of John's calls. Less than a week after he moved in, he got a call "Is Shawn there?"
7 Comments:
At 3:00 PM, Paperback Writer said…
When I moved to my neighborhood, the first three years I lived in my apartment I always got phone calls from people wanting to know where "Fabrics" went.
I have no idea what Fabrics is or where they went. It went so far that on my answering machine the last line I said "And no, this is not Fabrics."
At 4:29 PM, Jim McKee said…
I saw a comedian do a bit on something similar once. Callers thought his number was a pizza place. Finally, he took someone's order. The caller asked if they had a 30-minute guarantee. The comedian said yes, and if they were late, the caller should come down to the shop and jam his car key in their eyes. (Sounded funnier when the comedian said it.)
At 4:54 PM, Liz said…
On the flip side of this, have you ever noticed how people who get those mistake calls from you - i.e., you dial a number wrong -can't express that it's the wrong number? Just tell me it's the wrong number and I'll apologize and hang up! Maybe everyone else is stupid. People used to call my old house insisting it was a grocery store. It got old real fast.
At 5:56 PM, Jami said…
Seems like everyone has story like this. Sometime I'll have to tell you about the my in-laws' problem with a similar number.
PW: Are you SURE you're not Fabrics? Where did Fabrics go? I heard that on your machine once and really wondered, but forgot to ask. I have the ADD, you know . ..
EDW: I had one of those the other day. A woman said "What number did you call?" I read it to her and she said "Yes, that sounds familiar - wait - that's my number" Um, duh. Turns out the number had been posted wrong on a website.
At 10:44 PM, Paperback Writer said…
Really? I had it on my answering machine once? Wow. I thought I had this phone number long enough! :)
At 10:44 PM, Paperback Writer said…
And no, I'm not fabrics.
At 9:58 AM, Jami said…
Maybe it wasn't you. I don't remember specifically, just that the first time I called one of my more recent friends, their machine ended with "No, this is no longer X" and I wanted to ask but forgot.
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