For the last time, I am not selling a Chinese restaurant!

You could pretend your name is Donna Chang with predictable hillarious results

One time I moved into an apartment and got a new phone number.

As it turned out, the previous owner of that number was a town councillor, and I started getting phone calls for the guy where they would complain about roads or public works crews or civic affairs. That was bad enough, but they would call at any time, without regard to office hours or anything. I received calls at 6 AM, I received calls at 10PM, whenever someone had a problem.

Explaining to these people that he had a new number always got the question, “Well, do you know what his new number is?” Like, how would I know? I didn’t even know I had his old number at first, because had I known, I would have asked the phone company for a different one. Why would they think I had the guy’s new number?

I contacted the councillor and asked him to run a newspaper ad telling everyone what his new number was. He said he would check into it, but after a week, nothing changed. I called him up one more time and asked about the ad, or some other way to let people know his number had changed. Still, nothing happened – I was still receiving calls for him. It was extremely frustrating.

So then I started leaving a recorded message: “Hi, this is (Me); 555-5555 is MY number, and if you want to get in touch with me, by all means, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. If you’re looking for Councillor Smith, this is not his number anymore. And no, I don’t know what his number is, but if he really cared about your silly-ass problem, he would likely have let you know what his new number is, wouldn’t he have? Since he didn’t, I can only assume he doesn’t care for your stupid call. Kindly don’t call this number ever again in regard to Councillor Smith or Town business. Have a nice day.”

Took a few days, but the calls eventually stopped.

My pay per minute cellphone is one digit off a Catholic high school.

I would change it, but my kids have my number memorized to call in case of emergency.

A few years ago, I started to receive strange messages on my answering machine. They were almost always from someone with an Indian accent, and went something like: “This is Patel from 2345 and I need a new xb-21 installed, Thank You.” I finally got to talk to one of the callers directly, and asked them who they were trying to reach, and they said IT for a national motel chain. I asked them why they were calling my number, and they said that it was listed in their current phone list. So, I called the chain’s headquarters (which is nearby), and explained the situation. The person on the other end didn’t believe me at first, until I had her get the phone list and look herself. They fixed the problem pretty quickly.

I still think I could have made some profit on their mistake…

I think what I find most remarkable is that there appears to be so much demand for Chinese restaurants that you’d get thirty or forty calls to purchase it!

A guy I worked with started getting calls one day meant for a religious call in radio show. Apparently they had advertised the show somewhere but with a typo in the listed phone number. He got no work done that day, he was having too much fun screwing with all the callers, giving them off the wall advice for their religious dilemmas… :slight_smile:

So --------- wadda u want for the Italiano bistro? You no-a sell-a you Chinese, maybe you sell-a that one??? :slight_smile:
I feel your pain. Our home number was once published as the number of a local tavern. It is not a happy memory.

When people call your number while trying to reach the high school, pretend to be a recording and say, “For free birth control information, call (number of local Planned Parenthood office).”

My phone number used to be similar to the local VFW post, which apparently served a weekly dinner. I’d get calls from geezers asking me what the special was that night. Some of them wanted to get a little friendly with me. I think they thought I was the barmaid. Maybe I should have given them a little encouragement.

Also, next time you have something to sell, advertise in that newspaper! It gets results!

My current home phone number is published somewhere as the local electric company’s number, so I get all sorts of calls and messages from people trying to pay their bill, dispute charges, what have you. Luckily, the typo must be somewhere odd because I’ve not been able to locate it and I generally only get one or two calls a month. If the caller leaves a voicemail, I even call them back and let them know they got the wrong number (especially if they’ve left credit card info in their message and now think the issue is handled).

Additionally, my email was published this year as belonging to a student representative of the Helena County (Montana) School Board. This led to me getting a few odd emails–including one by a person who was oddly insistent that I was wrong about not being said girl–but I wasn’t able to figure out the connection or where the misinformation was until earlier this month when the school board erupted in some sort of sex ed controversy. I got about a dozen emails in 48 hours and was signed up for an anti-gay newsletter, so I finally figured out where they had my email posted and had it corrected.

Back in my high school days I had a friend whose home phone number was 1 digit off from a local Chinese carryout place, and they would routinely get calls of people trying to order food. Being the smartasses that we were, we would enthusiastically take their orders in our best broken English, and either telling them we didn’t have any of the items they wanted but, “We bring you orange chicken instead. It all taste same anyway!” or reading them back entirely different items than they ordered then ending with, “Okay, be there 15 minute!” and hanging up before they could respond. We would spend entire days doing this sometimes. Good times.

Grandpa was a cast iron son of a bitch, but he was an INGENIOUS cast iron SOB. I should note that he had tried other methods of resolving this issue, but got no joy until he tried letting the CEO know how very often he was getting bothered.

And I just remembered…when I got my first cell phone a couple of years back (I no longer feel the need to be the first one on my block to get the newest toy), apparently the number had belonged to a deadbeat womanizer, and I was always getting calls regarding his delinquent account, or from some woman wanting to know if they were still on for a date. And yeah, I was always amazed at the callers who wanted to know his new number. Hell, people, I never knew this guy, how would I know his NEW number?

Slightly off topic and I’ve posted this before but funny as, well, fuck. I got my then sixteen year old daughter a cell phone and the number was her name - 3825 - oh clever with it hip mum! Well, it also spells “fuck” so she was getting all sorts of late night wierdos calling on the off chance that she was some sex hot line. Oh noes.

Everyone, please tell me that I’m not the only one staring at my phone trying to figure out the name of BBG’s daughter.

I was wondering way her daughter was called “3825”.

StG

I did it for a while, too.

Okay, I’ve done a quick table of the possibilities.
Etal? (or Duck? :wink: )

D T A J
D T A K
D T A L
D T B J
D T B K
D T B L
D T C J
D T C K
D T C L
D U A J
D U A K
D U A L
D U B J
D U B K
D U B L
D U C J
D U C K
D U C L
D V A J
D V A K
D V A L
D V B J
D V B K
D V B L
D V C J
D V C K
D V C L
E T A J
E T A K
E T A L
E T B J
E T B K
E T B L
E T C J
E T C K
E T C L
E U A J
E U A K
E U A L
E U B J
E U B K
E U B L
E U C J
E U C K
E U C L
E V A J
E V A K
E V A L
E V B J
E V B K
E V B L
E V C J
E V C K
E V C L
F T A J
F T A K
F T A L
F T B J
F T B K
F T B L
F T C J
F T C K
F T C L
F U A J
F U A K
F U A L
F U B J
F U B K
F U B L
F U C J
F U C L
F V A J
F V A K
F V A L
F V B J
F V B K
F V B L
F V C J
F V C K
F V C L

There’s at least one combination missing from that list.

I’m going to guess her name is Eva [last initial].

My parents have spent the past 17 years in the current house getting phone calls for Valérie, but the calls only come once or twice a year. It’s rather odd.

When I got the phone for my current place hooked up several years ago, I would get a couple calls a week asking for Select-a-Seat (like TicketMaster, approximately). Odd, I thought, but figured it must be a similar number. So an Elton John concert is announced, and the weekend the tickets go on sale my phone rings off the hook. Like, put it down from the last call and it rings before you can turn around. So I start chatting with the callers and ask where they’ve gotten my number. “Oh,” they say, “from directory assistance.”

So I called directory assistance and the operator told me my number didn’t show as a result for that, and concluded that somewhere there must be some directory assistance with my number on a sticky note as Select-a-Seat (which didn’t have an entry by that name). The phone company was apologetic and agreed to change my number at no charge to me. Now I’m one number off from Canadian Tire.

“Hello? No, I’m sorry we have no sporting goods department. We only sell tires.”

That would be tiresome.