Dad had one the other morning by which I was amused. About 8:10 AM the phone rings, and it’s a little-old-lady voice asking for the Doctor. Sorry, says Dad, this isn’t the Doctor, you’ve reached (us). Okay, says Little Old, I’m sorry, I’ll try again.
8:11 AM. RRrrring. Sure enough, it’s Little Old, and she has the Doctor’s number written down, and this is it.
Does Dad get impatient? Does he hang up? No, he stumbles down the hall in his underwear, rubbing his eyes and fumbling with his trifocals, and finds the city (it’s a small one) phone book. Looks up the Doctor (it’s a Dentist, as it turns out), finds the phone number (ends in an 8, not a 3 as ours does), and the gives Little Old directions on how to drive from her apartment to the doctor’s office (Dad’s been here 30 years, recognizes the apartment name and knows the Dentist). Good for Dad; that’s a Boy Scout deed for the day.
I did remind him that he’d put a Little Old Mostly-Blind Lady on the road that morning.
His reply? “Only for three blocks”.
Me: Hello
WN: Is Bill there?
Me: I’m sorry, there’s no Bill here. You must have the wrong number.
WN: (accusing) If Bill doesn’t live there, then why do I have Bill’s name next to this number?
Me: I’m sorry, I really don’t know.
WN: Well could you just go over to Bill’s house and give him a message?
Me: I don’t know Bill. I don’t know where he lives.
WN: But what am I supposed to do? My no-good grandson just got himself arrested, and I need a ride into town to make bail for him. Is Bill’s car there?
Me: Bill doesn’t live here. I don’t know Bill. You called the wrong number.
WN: This can’t be the wrong number. I wrote Bill’s name next to it. Couldn’t you just go down to his place? He lives just down the hill.
Me: I don’t know Bill. I don’t know where Bill lives. I don’t live near a hill.
WN: It’s not far at all.
Me: I don’t know where it is.
WN: ** It’s just down the hill. You just have to go down, you can’t miss it.
Me: I don’t live on a hill. You called the wrong number.
WN: Then could you just give him a message.
Me: No. You have the wrong number.
WN: (accusing) If Bill doesn’t live there, then why do I have Bills name next to this number?
This went on for some time
The place where I work has about four separate phone numbers for our different branches of operations. One of them is one digit different to a nearby school, so we get about ten calls a week for them.
But we also have a number that Duracell Australia used to have (three years previously!!). So we get all these calls talking about batteries. Luckily we have a little post-it note with all the correct numbers of these places listed.
I also am stunned at how they don’t listen to when I say our place of business at the start of every call. Clear as day. (usually :))