Searching for the Moon

Shannon Clark's rambles and conversations on food, geeks, San Francisco and occasionally economics

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Posted by shannonclark on August 22, 2002

The saga of random call

or how I never seem to be who is being called when I answer the phone…

My phone at home has rang six times in the past four days when I was there to answer it.

Not once was it call for me.

This morning, I was running late to work, having had a week of being at the office until after midnight, and as I was showering and getting dressed, the phone rang twice.

Both times, in the way that only telemarkers can, right when answering the phone was not overly convient.

Both calls were for a different person – not one who has ever had my number. A Mr. Peterson and a “Steven Clark”.

I should note here, I have had the same home phone number for over SEVEN years, you would think I would be the only person still listed anywhere with that number.

Sunday however, was worse.

Then I was in the midst of having a relaxing morning, relaxing that is until the phone started to ring.

The first time it was just a wrong number, a telemarkter of some form called and asked for Mr or Mrs something, something not even close to my last name. He seemed indignant and annoyed when I said “no one ever here by that name”.

Finally I hung up, and steped back into the kitchen to continue making my lunch.

The phone rang again. Same guy, asking for the same people but in a slightly different manner – this time he questioned me about whether I was sure that these people could not have had the number before me – I said very definitely no no way at all, I have had this number foa very long time.

Hung up the phone.

The phone rang again (with only a second or two between calls).

It was him, yet again. This time he in fact said “this is getting annoying isn’t it?”

Yes it was, I assured him, he said “its the computer’s fault” and I hung up again.

The phone rang AGAIN!

Yes, it was him, once again.

This time I asked him very directly “What company are you with and how do I contact you?” – two questions any telemarker MUST answer by law.

He refused, claiming that it was against his company’s rules for him to do that.

I said, “well in that case, I will be filing a police report when we get off the phone”, and I hung up again.

Silence.

Golden silence, not another phone call from him.

So, one victory I guess.

I did call 311 (Chicago’s non-emergancy police line), but after being told that the wait time to file a report was 24 minutes, I decided that however satisfying it would be it was not worth wasting that much time on the phone indoors when it was a wonderful summer’s day outside.

So, I gave up on making lunch, left the house, went to a local cafe, got a bagel sandwich, and met a new friend who was there reading poems by woman authors and writing in her journal – so a very good start to the afternoon.

Then I left that cafe to go to another just up the street where I was to meet a friend to go watch the Air and Water show with. He was running late, so I sat and did some reading. The woman I had briefly chatted with in the other cafe then entered this new cafe as well, I said hello again while she was waiting for her drink – they made it hot instead of cold so she got two drinks for the price of one. We kept on talking enough that she decided to pull up a chair next to mine and we talked until my friend arrive (half an hour late).

After he arrived the three of us went and watched the Air and Water show – all in all a truly great afternoon.

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