|I'm a bad, bad woman.
Mad Scientess Jane Expat
|[||the weather today is
Me, sleepily: Hello?
Her, sharply with a British-Asian accent: Who is this?
Her: Let me speak to your mother.
Me: I can't do that.
Her: Why not?
Me: Maybe you can. Do you have a ouija board?
Her: Don't speak to me like that, young lady.
Me: Okay, okay, she's not really dead. But she's in Seattle.
Her: You put your mother on the phone right now!
Her: *covers the phone, incoherent mumbling*
Her: This is the wrong number?
Me: That depends on how you look at it.
* I absolutely hate it when people do this. You called me. You tell me who you are, you inconsiderate wretch.
Do they listen to the whole thing before hanging up?
I don't think it was presence of mind, more a lack of social filters. It takes a while to put those on in the morning, you know.
I think Porky's
still my favorite wrong number, though.
That's awesome. I always fly off the handle too soon to actually have fun with them. Usually to the effect of, "You called me. You identify yourself or fuck off. Now!" Sigh.
Well, there was that one woman who kept calling convinced her boyfriend was there. After going the head-to-head and honest route, she kept calling. I started telling her he was in the shower and hanging up.
I'm usually like that too. I think this amused me particularly because the first thing she said was "Let me speak to your mother," thereby confirming that I sound about twelve years old on the phone.
I hate it when people call and ask who I am, even if they are calling for someone who actually does live in the house. From my perspective it is none of their business.
The best was one lady who was calling for my bf and kept insisting I take the phone to him even though I repeatedly told her he was unavailable. He was at work but I didn't see any reason why she would have needed to know that. I could just see her harassing my for his work number if I had mentioned that fact. Ugh!
Fabulous. He'll sounds like a Rayne
in the making.
Reminds me of our situation occasionally - sometime business people call for Dad (he runs his own business from one, a business of one person). They sometimes ask for the Finance Department - if Dad's out, I say sorry, he's not in at the moment. It amuses me that they thin Dad is a whole company all by himself, complete with finance and HR!
Someone keeps dumbing down the rude people. Why didn't she figure it out starting with the ouija board comment?
Screw the ouija board. Why didn't she get it the minute she heard "Hello" in an American accent?
Either your accent is softening as you go native, or your powers of smartassness are greater than even you could have imagined. ;)
i had a text message wrong number the other day that went similar.
she texted me, I said I think you have the wrong number she replies with no I dont, this is I replied, then who am I? she said John I said nope, WRONG NUMBER.
Oh man, think of the fun you could have with that one. "Sorry, your john isn't here."
Heheheh. Genius. I recently changed my cell number, and immediately after had a spate of calls for whoever owned it last (some guy, totally forget the name now, let's say "Joe"), and the first time it rang only woke up my motor skills, but my brain was still stuck in the hypnopompic state. I vaguely remember mumbling something about a steakhouse and leaving a message with the maitre'd. They probably thought Joe'd brought home some tweaked-out hooker who answered his phone while he was in the shower. ;)
Oh, I really wish I could come up with a conversation like that, even in my most conscious state! You'd be lucky to get "Yes?" from me, instead of a grunt, but since I don't have a phone in the bedroom anyway, anyone who is inconsiderate enough to ring anytime before about midday is not going to get any response, there is no way I'm going to walk all the way downstairs. That's what voicemail is for.
Is Seattle really that bad?
Usually, when they assure me they have the right number, I just go into a repeat cycle of who? and what? until they hang up. Sometimes they're on the phone for ages trying to tell me I'm somebody else.