Sorry, Wrong Number
My phone rang at around 10:15 p.m.; the caller ID showed a 918 telephone number. (I did a search: it's in Oklahoma).
"Matt?" a young woman's voice greeted me.
"Uh, excuse me?" I said.
"Is this Matt?" she responded.
"I think you have the wrong number," I chirped. I was in a good mood.
For any other person, the conversation would ended nicely there. But because we're talking about me, it didn't.
"Could you tell me what number I reached?" she asked.
Huh? You dialed it, woman.
"Uh... what number did you mean to dial?" I asked. As a child, someone once taught me not to actually recite my phone number to wrong numbers. Something about it being somehow unsafe. (I forget the rationale now, frankly). Best to have them tell you what number they tried; you can confirm that they misdialed, or that they've written down your number as someone else's.
She started copping an attitude on me. "Uh... okay. I was just trying to see if I have the wrong number, but I guess you can't help me." Her tone of voice conveyed a clear disdain. Whatev.
"Guess not!" I piped back, and hung up on her.
5 comments:
what a bitch! I think she must be related that snotty elevator diva from the other day! In fact, maybe that's the person she meant to call! :)
Cow... Don't you love it when people do something wrong and try to take it out on you?
People from Oklahoma are assholes.
Umm, why does it matter what number you reached, lady. It's the wrong number!! Hang up and dial again.
What a friggin' beotch! Since you have her number on caller ID, you should have started harrassing her from payphones.
Post a Comment