Today I answered a phone call. Here’s an exact transcript:
Me: Hello.
Caller: You aren’t Marsha! (said in accusing tones)
Me: <pause> No, there’s no one here named Marsha, you must have the wrong number.
Caller: Well, why did you answer the call? Now I have to pay for a long distance call! <slams down the phone>
Huh??
StarvingButStrong - You’re so selfish. You never think of the other person and how your answering the phone might affect them.*
I hope you’ve learned your lesson from this. The next time the phone rings, if you’re not Marsha, don’t answer it!
This reminds me of a phone prank I’ve read about. It seems much funnier to read it than it would be to actually do it.
Get about 5 of your friends together, and have all of them call the same number in a 30 minute span, asking for Wayne.
Then you call the same number, and tell them that you’re Wayne, and ask if there are any messages for you.
It almost makes me laugh out loud reading and thinking about it, but for some reason, the actual execution doesn’t strike me as something that would be all that funny.
cf’75
One time I was trying to call my friend Lisa and the phone call went something like this:
Me: Hey Lisa!
Her: This isn’t Lisa.
Me: Who is it?
Her: This is [some name I forgot]
Me: Whatever. Don’t lie, you’re just making a funny voice.
Her: Uh, I think you have the wrong number.
Me: Very funny. Where are you?
Her: On my way to Pittsburg.
Me: Why are you going to Pittsburg?
Her: To see my sister.
Me: Wait…this isn’t Lisa, is it?
Her: No. I already told you that.
Me: Wow. Okay, bye.
Keep in mind that the actual convo was about 15 minutes in length while I got increasingly more aggitated at “Lisa” for making a funny voice and not wanting to talk to me. No, It wasn’t Lisa. I have no idea who it was, I had dialed the wrong number. Lisa and I still laugh about it sometimes.
It’s not about you. It’s not about the caller. It’s about Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!
I once had a conversation that went something like this:
Ring
Me: Hello?
Distraught Woman on other end: Is this Debbie?
Me: No, this is Greywolf73, think you have the wrong number.
DW: Is this reads my phone number out loud
Me: Uhh, yes but there’s no Debbie here.
DW: Is Greywolf73 your REAL name?
Me: Well, yes
DW: I think you’re lying. I think you’re Debbie.
Me: I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.
DW: Did you sleep with my husband?
Me: Pretty sure I didn’t
DW: Really tall guy with blonde hair, name’s Bruce?
Me: I don’t even know anyone named Bruce.
DW: Well, your phone number is in his cell phone.
Me: It must be a mistake because I don’t know anyone by that name and my name isn’t Debbie.
Dw: Begins to cry He’s running around on me and there’s 3 different women’s numbers in his cell phone and I don’t know what to do…are you sure you’re not Debbie?
I then spent the next 10 minutes or so trying to console this woman. I felt awful for her. Still have no idea who she was or what that was all about. However, at least I did finally manage to convince her that I really wasn’t Debbie!
Got caller ID? Start calling the number collect using some bullshit emergency to get them to accept. Childish, sure. Spiteful satifaction? Guaranteed. 
I have caller ID and there’s some sort of company or business called I.C.C. that always calls my house and they always leave blank messages. The number is a 1-866 number and they annoy the hell out of my family. So last week, they called again and out of curiosity, I picked up the phone.
Me: Hello?
No answer…silence for a few moments
Me: Dude, grow up and say something or stop calling us, damn you!
Hangs up
And they haven’t called back since then. 
Hmmm. Since I’m never Marsha, this means I never have to answer the phone again, yes?
All right!
You little whore!
You have to admit it’s a legitimate question.
When I was six I got the following call at my family’s store:
Me: Hello
Old Lady: Is this Mal?
Me: No, this is Little Shagnasty.
Old Lady: Where’s Mal?
Me: I don’t know. Can I take message.
Old Lady: Yeah you can. Tell him that Dwayne is coming down there to KICK YOUR ASS.
Me: But, but, this is Little Shagnasty.
Old Lady: I don’t care who you are, Dwayne is still going to kick your ass.
Me: Drops the phone and runs.
After I’d had my current cell phone number for about two and a half years, I started getting “wrong number” calls on it. The following is a transcript of the last call I ever got…
me: hello?
them: yeah, is Lisa there?
me: um, no. I think you have the wrong number.
them: well, who the fuck is this, and how did you get this number?
me: I guess I got it when the cell phone company assigned it to me two years ago!
them: well, fuck.
Then they hung up.
Mwahahaha! And she was never the wiser. :eek: 
Back when I was married, a woman called our house and asked for Mike.
Me: “No one by that name lives here. You must have the wrong number.”
Woman: “Oh, no, he gave me this number, said he was going to visit his old Army buddy in MyTown, MyState.”
Me: “Sorry, I’ve never heard of him.”
Woman: "Is your husband [Husband’s first & last name}?
Me: “Well, yes. Let me ask him.”
I put my husband on the phone, and he explained to this woman that he had never heard of her husband, had never been in the Army, and that we certainly didn’t have any houseguests at the time.
The poor woman was in tears by that time, but I can’t imagine why her husband had picked some random name and phone number out of a phone book. We assumed he was shacking up with his girlfriend or something like that and used random strangers from that city’s phonebook as an alibi. Just weird.
All of these are hilarious.
My own story: This happened a couple of years ago, during my freshman year at RPI. I was just chillin, and suddenly the phone rings.
Person: Is this the Human Resources department for RPI?
I was in my dorm room, and this person called my dorm line. I just said No, and that was the end of it. But to this day, I wish I had answered, “Yes, and I am Catbert, the Evil HR Director.”
My cell phone number happens to be the same number as that of a certain casino. I get a lot of people who seem bent on convincing me than I am indeed that casino.
Maybe I’ll change my name, since I keep forgetting to try to get my number changed.
Once I moved and got a new phone number. I didn’t put in forwarding, because I wanted only friends and family to know my new number. Unfortunately, they offered me a number that was “convenient” to remember, but was just one digit away from the local Domino’s Pizza. The first day I got about 20 calls for Domino’s Pizza. The second day I was really annoyed, so I answered the phone: “Domino’s, can I help you?”
Some of the things I did:
-took their order, and then said, “Sorry, we only have biscuits today.”
-took their order, and then said, "We’ll bring your order next Monday, between 8-5.’’
-took their order, and then said, “There’s a new tax on pizza–$3.00 per slice.”
-interrupted their order, and tried to sell them a time-share in Cancun.
-tried to convince them to get a pizza with live chicks on it
-took their order, and then offered astrological advice, “half price.”
Only four times did actual friends/family called, somewhat baffled. I eventually changed the number.
Screw it. Set up a paypal account. Tell the people they have the wrong number, then if they call again take the reservation. Put them on hold the “check the availability” and see if you can book the room. If you can, tell the caller it’s an extra $25 for whatever reason you can dream up. (Short notice, holiday weekend, etc). Of course, be sure to report the income as a travel agent. 
As long as we’re sharing, here’s a couple wrong number experiences.
Our home number is one digit off from the biggest hobby shop in the region. If I had a nickle for every person asking the price of a new nitro engine or collector model, I’d be too busy sipping rum in the Bahamas to post here.
When I had my first apartment all those years ago, I had the phone service set up before I even signed the lease. For the next 8 months I had some kid (probably 7 y/o or so) call at least twice a week asking for “Katy”. (I swear to God it was like that Seinfeld episode where Elaine had the kid calling for “Gammy”). I never could get the kid to hand the phone to her parents to explain what was happening. After about 8 months the calls stopped. I still wonder what that deal was about.
A long, long time ago, before 911, we had a phone number that was only one number off from the city’s police department. Fortunately it was a small city but we still got many a frantic call in the middle of the night. We felt bad for them but we probably weren’t very helpful at 3am.
A veterinary hospital I worked at had a private line number that was the same as some big hotel except you dialed 1-800 to reach them. Well, people in the same city as us thought that since it was a local exchange that they didn’t need to dial the 1-800. The calls usually started out as asking to make reservations so, although it was the private line and clients shouldn’t be calling on it we’d still think they wanted reservations to board their pet. When we realized they wanted the hotel and tried to explain that they needed to dial the 1-800 first they’d argue with us that they didn’t because it was a local number. No, it’a an 800 number so you must dial the 800! Gah!