Tuesday at the Hacienda

Now that telemarketers have stopped calling — for the most part, anyway; that do-not-call list actually has worked for us — my favorite phone moments involve recurring wrong numbers. For a long time, we had a guy who’d call and say, “Hi. Is Victoria there?” He kept calling and saying exactly the same thing in the same tone of voice long after it was obvious that the voices he was hearing at our number had no connection to Victoria. On the other hand, he must have been getting in touch with Victoria sometimes and then occasionally misdial and get us. He has moved on.

The last few days, someone has wrong-dialed us twice. Our exchanges have been brief. I answer in my usual cheerful general American way: “Hello?” The first time, I got a confused snort in return; it was enough of a vocalization that I’d guess the caller was an older woman; she hung up immediately after her flustered snuffle. Today she called again. “Hello?” This time the snort sounded a little incensed. “I think you have the wrong number.” Another offended-sounding huff, and then she hung up.

I’m looking forward to our next talk.

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3 Replies to “Tuesday at the Hacienda”

  1. If only you could tell when she was calling you could give her a little treat when you answer,
    “Hello, you’ve reached the Hell hotline. We’re having a special today and would like to offer you your very own spot in the eternal fire for the low low price of 10,000 dollars.”
    I wonder what her snuff would sound like then…

  2. When my mother died, I had all her mail forwarded from Michigan to my house in Maryland. This included all her mail from the Republican National Committee, to which she and my father were occasional contributors.
    Eventually the RNC got my phone number and started calling. Since I’m a “Jr.”, I could answer quite truthfully that, yes, they were indeed speaking with Donald White. A couple of times they asked me to participate in RNC phone surveys, which I enthusiastically did, though almost certainly not giving them the answers they were expecting. I can’t believe they ever went back and correlated my answers my with those my father gave, but I hope at least one RNC flunky got to wonder “Why the switch?”
    The RNC doesn’t call me anymore.

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