Missionary?
I used to do this all the time when I’d forget to put the lock on my keypad. Once and it kept calling my home phone and my husband answered about 3 or 4 times in a row. He’d hear my voice with lots of muffled sound and was freaking out because he thought I was locked in the trunk of a car or something. It wasn’t until I called him from the grocery store an hour later to ask what kind of beer he wanted did he realize I wasn’t being kidnapped. And I always locked my keypad after that.
AHunter3, Yesterday is on the phone for you. It wants its joke back.
On my mobile*:
~Ring Ring~
Me:Hello?
Random Bloke: Can I speak to Phillipa?
Me: Sorry mate, I think you have the wrong number
RB: Is this <hybrid’s mobile number>
Me: Yes
RB: Then it’s the right number, is Phillipa there?
Me: No, I don’t know anyone called Phillipa.
RB: Then why do you have her phone then?
Me: I don’t have her phone, this is my phone.
RB: No, it’s the number she gave me.
Me: Well, it isn’t her number.
RB: But I wrote it down
Me: That doesn’t make it her number.
RB: You bastard! You must have stolen her phone!
Me (angry): Or you got the wrong number.
RB: I’m calling the police!
Me: Good for you!
~click~
I wonder if he ever found Phillipa? Did he make a mistake in writing it down? Did Phillipa give him a false number that just happened to be mine? What did the police say to him? Some things I guess we will never find out.
*Cellphone for our American viewers
“Dave’s not here, man”
I’m not the sort of person who is able to instill fear in others, but I gotta say I’m mighty proud of myself for this one.
It was about 1:30 am. Phone rings. I was still awake. Afraid a family member might be dead, I pick up.
Me: Hello?
Bitch: (laughing)…uh…yeah…is your husband there?
Me: Who’s calling?
Bitch:…uh…Victoria…he nailed me so hard last night…I came so many times…
(note: Mr. AFG is 100% trustworthy, and he had been with ME the whole night before, so I know this is total bullshit.)
Me: (rage flaring) Oh really? Could you tell me his name and what he looks like, then?
Bitch: (giggling nervously)…uh…you know…
Me: (very sweetly) I’d just like you to know I’ve traced your number. You should know better than to make stupid calls to people you don’t know. You never know if they might be psycho.
Bitch: (not laughing anymore) umm…uhhh…a…
Me: You better sleep with one eye open, cunt.
Bitch: (starts crying and hangs up)
Maybe I was a bit over the top, but I don’t care. Anyone who wants to call me at 1am claiming to have slept with my husband deserves to have a little fear instilled in them. 
Ring ring on my cellphone in the office a while back, from an unrecognised number.
“Hello?”
- “Hi, is that Jim?” said a woman’s voice.
“Yes.” - “You need to bring the kids round.”
“I don’t have any kids.” - “Are you in the camp?”
“What camp?” - “Is that Jim?”
“Yes.” - “I think I have the wrong Jim.”
“Oh, right - so how do you have this number?” - “I’ve got two Jims in my contacts.”
“OK, but why do you have my number in your phone under my name?” - “It… doesn’t matter.” click
I have no idea how or who or why. Could just be a coincidence, but she was a bit shifty.
sometimes it’s fun to play with the person on the end of a wrong number call (as long as it’s not too bad…)
Me: Hello?
Them: Oh, Hi Steven!!! I was just wondering if you have a lot of corn in your field, because we were gonna come by and get some ears of corn.
Me: Oh yeah! No problem, just come on over and go to the field, lots of corn. It’s a beautiful day!
Them: Okay, sweetie. We’ll be by soon.
God knows where the call came from. This was before caller ID, and there was no cornfields anywhere near our place.
I just wonder if the owners of the field wondered why these people just went right into their field and started picking corn without even asking.
Only in Canada…
I once got a chosen-at-random-just-wants-to-talk call. Years ago, when I was a junior in high school, on the separate phone line upstairs my brother and I used for our, um, online shenanigans. (Way pre-Net as it’s known now.) This woman, to her credit, immediately owned up that she didn’t know me, I didn’t know her, she dialed blindly and just wants to speak to somebody about her problems. What the hell, I thought, and then I listened to something like forty-five minutes of her paranoid ravings about black helicopters, AIDS in government cheese, and CIA agents following her around. At first it was sort of amusing to listen to the crackpot (I was much more of a bastard back then), but when I realized she had kids, and when I realized this whole fantasy was basically a rationalization for why her husband had left and wasn’t coming back, I got kind of skeeved out and ended the call. Somewhere in my old bedroom in my mom’s house is the two pages of notes I took while listening.
Oh, and also back in high school, by extraordinary coincidence, I got a wrong number for somebody I actually knew. I didn’t know the caller, but I knew the name they asked to talk to. But as it happens, I really didn’t like that person (long story), so I told the caller they were in the hospital and I made up a big story about a car accident and emergency surgery and critical injuries and related stuff. At the end they hung up with the promise to spread the word and get a prayer-and-visitation circle going. Rather cruel amusement, I know. I’m not proud.
One night I came home from work to find, on my caller ID, the name of a friend of mine back in elementary school, in the 50s. There was no message on my answering machine. There’d been no communication between us since I moved away in 1958, so I called the number, thinking that he had looked me up and wanted to chat.
It turned out to be his father (same name), who had dialed my number by mistake. After we got that straightened out, he told me that his son, my friend, had been killed in Viet Nam in 1967.
I MADE a phonecall like this. Here’s the scene: My husband Allan is visiting his friend John (a good friend of both of ours) at his apartment. I did not know John had a roomie named John as well.
Man answers phone:
Zette: Hello John- how are you doing? This is Suzette.
John (roomie)- Hey baby, how YOU doin’? :: eyebrow waggle, I imagine::
Zette: Um, John?
John: Yeah, I was hoping you would call…how you been, baby?
Zette: Um, can I talk to Allan?
:abrupt dropping of the phone:
Later I found out that Roomie John had met a woman at a club a few weeks back named Suzette that he was hoping would call, and he assumed that was me when I said “Hi John, it’s Suzette”
WAY too weird.
That is one freaky coincidence. Sad and freaky.
This call came in yesterday at the property management office where I work:
Caller: Hi! I’m calling because I saw your For Rent sign on the house on XXXXX Avenue. Is that the whole house?
Me: Yes it is.
Caller: Call I have the particulars?
Me: It’s a four bedroom house with a garage, renting for $2100 plus utilities.
Caller: Well, I’m glad to hear that. I really need the space. I’m expecting triplets in February.
Me: Wow! You do need some space.
Caller: Yes, and I’m sixty years old. My boyfriend’s 23.
Me: Really? You’re going to be famous, just like the 57 year old woman that just had twins.
Caller: Yes, but hers was in vitro fertilization. Mine is natural.
Me: Oh? :eek:
Caller: Yes, I’m truly blessed.
I used to work as a security guard at a factory where they made heaters and air conditioners. When the receptionist is off-duty, it’s our job to answer incoming calls. This factory had a number of different owners and names over the years [Singer, Snyder General and , now, McQuay] but at the time was called Climate Control. I guess it was just a matter of time that I’d receive a call like this actual call :
Me : “Climate Control - Security!”
Caller : “Climate Control?”
Me : “Yes!”
Caller “When are you gonna do something about the weather?”
Call received on my cell phone:
Me: “Hello.”
Guy: “Hey, babe. It’s me.”
Me: “Uh-huh. And who’s ‘me’?”
Guy: “Last night? We met last night, at the bar.”
Me: “I wasn’t at a bar last night. I was at home studying for a final.”
Guy: “Awww, don’t be like that babe.”
Me: “No, seriously. I have no idea who you are. I was not at a bar last night. I was at home. Really. Are you sure you have the right number? This is 123-4567.”
Guy: “Yeah, that’s the number you gave me, babe.”
Me: “You must have written it down wrong or something.”
Guy: “You know if you don’t want a dude to call you, you shouldn’t give him your cell phone number, okay?”
Click.
I think the issue with phone calls like these are that chicks give out some random number to get guys off their back, without considering the idea that the number might actually belong to someone. Which is why that rejection hotline is such a good innovation.
[hijack] Wow, that is a nifty innovation. [/end hijack]
Dammit!
Last night, twice, I got more of those “wardialer” phone calls. “No Caller ID” on the screen. So I let the machine get it, and there’s nobody there, just that ghostly beep every few seconds.
It would be mildly annoying, but it’s just a major f*ckin’ headache because I get them at all hours of the day and night: 0715, 1216, 1942, 0330 . . . and they all keep waking me up.
And the worst part, is that the “Annoyance Call Bureau” is only open during ‘bankers hours’–which is exactly when I’m at work, and can’t call. How annoying. . .
Tripler
Does anyone else get these, or know what the hell they are?
Checked my voicemail about 3 weeks ago on a Monday, after having no credit all weekend - there was 5 VMs from between 2.45am and 3.10am, from a drunk brummie guy (and I mean proper drunk) telling me i’m a “southern fairy” and he’s “going to kill me” amid mumbles and other incomprehensible statements about me with his girlfriend.
This was baffling me, as I know one person with a Birmingham accent, and he doesn’t have my number, let alone anybodys missus i’ve been fooling with. I phoned the number back:
Me: Yeah, who’s this?
Him: Eh?
M: You phoned me early hours of Sunday morning, threatening me and saying i’m a southern fairy (i’m clearly Northern in accent and attitude)
H: Oh, err, I…don’t worry about that, I was joking, it was a misunderstanding
M: Well who the fuck are you and how are you phoning my number?
H: Its…
M: Don’t phone it again, bitch. (click)
Turns out Brummie Sarah who I know, i’d lent her my phone to send a text from the previous week, to tell this guy she didn’t want to see him anymore, and he thought I was the new guy. Arsewipe.
I’ve also had calls from some lad who kept phoning me asking what I was up to, because he was bored and ringing random phone numbers. At 1.30am.
Cheers!
Oh my goodness, so did I . But she said I stole him and that I couldn’t keep him.