867-5309

Funny you should say that....just this morning at 7:00 am the phone rang
and and older gentleman wanted to speak to his daughter. I told him that he had the wrong number, but he insisted that he dialed the right number, and he actually did, but it was not his daughter's. He started arguing with me - nothing like being annoyed on a Sunday morning at 7:00 am - and then his wife came along and we found out that they had the right number but the wrong area code. Then, that old fart just hung up the phone, no apology at all

For having a phone number that's very easily remembered, I actually don't get that many wrong calls *knock on wood*

Well, I got nearly a year of fax machine calls when I landed here. I traced them a couple of times, but, eh.
Then another million from debt collectors for people with my last name. I would routinely call them and say I am not them.

It was punishment, apparently, for being a person with a last name and initial, delivered by people who bark from 8 am to 9 pm, seven days a week.

There are ways this can all get worse, but never mind.

I used to work in IT at another university - the helpdesk number was a transposed digit away from a local chinese restaurant. In the end we just took the orders.

A lot of times on our answering machine we have messages from strangers saying to other strangers - OK we'll be at X to pick you up an N o'clock - I often wonder what happened.... once a lady rang into to tell her employer (child care facility I deduced) that should wouldn't be in today.

Odd.

We screen calls - it's amazing how many callers hangup as soon as the answering machine kicks in - I'm assuming some sort of program cold calls endlessly and then routes answered calls to a sales call centre. Freaking annoying to have your phone go off all the time. No wonder people are ditching land lines.

For about three months an anonymous caller rang my phone, 3 to 4 times per day. Never a phone number or name. At first, I answered. But nobody ever spoke. I heard nothing. Finally, I set the ringer to identify these calls. When I did that and totally ignored the calls, they ceased, within a few days.

How does this work, Edgar?

My cell phone has a menu of ringers and a list of settings for different types of calls. Unlisted or blocked numbers get one ring. Friends get another.

My present problem is that my main phone, the one with the answer system, has no way to modulate the ring. I put a stack of towels over it, with not much success.

I keep the phone for the computer. A long story, never mind.

Oh. I thought it was a land line. Thanks.

Names have been changed to protect the guilty . . .

Is this the maintenance office?

No, sir, this is stores and purchasing.

Look, don't get funny with me, i can have your job.

You're welcome to it.

OK, wise guy, this Mr. Prissy Lawdog, former president of the state bar association, and currently proctoring the examination in the main ballroom. It's cold in here, and if we don't get some heat, there'll be hell to pay. Am i making my self clear?

Yes, sir, perfectly.

Well, are you going to come do something about it?

Sir, i'm not maintenance staff and . . .

You better get your ass over here right now, or you'll never work in this town again . . . this state!

Yes, sir, on my way!

Veronica comes back from her break . . .

Who was that on the phone?

Some joker lookin' for the maintenance department.

Did you tell him this was stores and purchasing?

Yeah and he as much as called me a liar.

What did he want?

He wanted somebody to come fix the heat in the main ballroom. I told him i was on my way.

You could get in trouble when nobody shows up.

Mr. Former President of the State Bar Association neglected to get my name.

The ringer on my phone is turned off, so I don't know I'm getting a call until the answering machine kicks in. Mostly I get hangups. However, lately I've been getting calls and messages from the city of Chicago wanting me to take a brief survey about conditions in my community.

Hey, Chicago. I'm in Noo Yawk.

Isn't the area code a dead giveaway?

Before area codes were changed on Long Island, my parents were 1 digit away from a restaurant (which is now gone anyway) called Dining Car 1890. And, yes, at age 13 it was a tween hoot to take reservations. Perhaps my brother and I are one reason why they're out of business.

A few different people called this weekend, asking for Emily.

No doubt she'll call later in the week and ask if there are any messages for her.

I am the treasurer of my condo association, which means that my name is on all the association's accounts and my phone number is the association's contact number for all these service providers. About a year ago I started getting calls from collection agencies -- we are current on all of our accounts, so that was rather surprising. It turned out, with some careful questioning of one of these bill collectors, that there's a homeowner's association in the suburbs with a very similar name to our condo association that owed money to one of the utility companies.

Once I figured that out, I tried to tell these collection monkeys that they were dunning the wrong association. I got into a heated argument with one of them, who insisted that we still owed the bill because our condo association must be the owner of the homeowners association. I told him "that's not how condo associations work," and, when he persisted, I asked him: "do you even know what a condominium is?" My guess is that he did not. Funny thing, despite his threats to file a lawsuit to collect the debt, all I get are repeated phone calls, which indicates to me that they still don't have a clue they're barking up the wrong tree. Nowadays, though, when I see a collection agency's number on caller ID, I just let it go to my answering machine. My attitude now is: not my bill, not my problem.

Yeah, it's a good thing I took names and numbers.

We had the opposite sort of thing. Our phone number was the same except for the area code of this old lady. So people kept calling her looking for us. The resourceful old lady figured out (probably looking up our name) and called us up and gave us some of our messages which were pretty much telemarketer calls.

Then as more and more calls went to her area code asking for us, she became irrated. She called us up angry about the calls and asked us to change our phone number. We said too bad lady, it doesn't bother us none, just stopped answering the calls. She kept at it calling us, we ended up just letting it go to voice mail and laughing our asses at her. She was upset because she had this phone number for like a 100 years. Then one day the calls from her stopped - wonder if she died?

Our phone was also 2 digits different than Outback - we used to get calls for take out all the time.

Remember this one?

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know, but you know deserves it.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it.

A man answered, saying ‘Hello.’

I politely said, ‘This is Jack. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?’

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear ‘Get the right f***ing number!’ and the phone was slammed down on me.

I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn ‘s correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the ‘wrong’ number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled ‘You’re an asshole!’ and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word ‘asshole’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, ‘You’re an asshole!’

It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic ‘asshole’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, ‘Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I’m calling to see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID Program?’

He yelled ‘NO!’ and slammed down the phone.

I quickly called him back and said, ‘That’s because you’re an asshole!’ and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I’d been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a ‘For Sale ‘ sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial,) I thought that I’d better call the BMW asshole, too.

I said, ‘Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?’

He said, ‘Yes, it is.’

I then asked, ‘Can you tell me where I can see it?’

He said, ‘Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfield.

It’s a yellow ranch style house and the car’s parked right out in front.’

I asked, ‘What’s your name?’

He said, ‘My name is Don Hansen,’

I asked, ‘When is a good time to catch you, Don?’

He said, ‘I’m home every evening after five.’

I said, ‘Listen, Don, can I tell you something?’

He said, ‘Yes?’

I said, ‘Don, you’re an asshole!’

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.

Then I came up with an idea…

I called asshole #1.

He said, ‘Hello.’

I said, ‘You’re an asshole!’ (But I didn’t hang up.)

He asked, ‘Are you still there?’

I said, ‘Yeah!’

He screamed, ‘Stop calling me,’

I said, ‘Make me,’

He asked, ‘Who are you?’

I said, ‘My name is Don Hansen.’

He said, ‘Yeah? Where do you live?’

I said, ‘Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfield , a yellow ranch style home and I have a black Beamer parked in front.’

He said, ‘I’m coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.’

I said, ‘Yeah, like I’m really scared, asshole,’ and hung up.

Then I called Asshole #2.

He said, ‘Hello?’

I said, ‘Hello, asshole,’

He yelled, ‘If I ever find out who you are…’

I said, ‘You’ll what?’

He exclaimed, ‘I’ll kick your ass,’

I answered, ‘Well, asshole, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.’

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfield, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 3 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd in Fairfield.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfield.

I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better.