Weirdest wrong number I had was at work, where random calls were pretty common. It just didn’t make sense, and the woman on the other end of the line seemed really confused as well. Eventually, she told me that she was working in another business, and the phone had rung there as well, so we were both waiting for the confused customer to ask us something that made sense.
Really weird, she sounded totally sensible and professional, but we exchanged company names, just in case it was a glitch with an internal system and someone was expecting a call back, and it was a company we’d never dealt with (something like washing machine repairs) in another county.
We did get prank phone calls (it was a zoo, so calls for Mr. C Lyon, G Raff etc. were pretty common), but that was just odd.
When we first moved to Indy, we got a broadband phone, and the number used to belong to someone really umm, I guess dodgy is a good word, although I’m not totally sure I’m using it right. We got TONS of calls from bill collectors-- 4 or 5 a day At first I just hung up, but then I started staying on the ling long enough to say it was the wrong number, please take it off your list. Then we got a robo-call one day from the sheriff’s office saying that this was the number on file to notify when So-and-so was being released from the Indiana Men’s Prison, and he was being released. Have a nice day. Another time we got a call from the sheriff that said inmate [insert name]* was calling, would I accept the charges. I said no, then I called back and informed the sheriff’s office that whoever inmate [insert name] wanted to contact want not at this number. I’m pretty sure it was a different name from the guy who was released from the prison.
Then, there was a voice-mail that went “Oh my gawd, I just heard, I’m so sorry-- this is Bev-- call me!”
*The inmate spoke his name, and it played, like it would for a collect long distance call.
For many years, the main phone number for the local jail was a non-memorable string of numbers (not, for example 555-4000) My number is very similar, and oddly enough, I used to work at the jail. Several years after I no longer worked there, I got another of the many calls that were meant for the jail. This time I recognized the voice as being the current Sheriff, so I called him by name. Turns out he knew the jail had 3 lines and assumed they were in sequence (they weren’t) so when he got a busy signal he just tried a related number. I explained to him how his phone system worked and that if he got a busy signal, it was because all 3 lines were in use.
I had a number that was one digit different from a beauty salon so I’d get a wrong number about once a week. The penny dropped for most of them when I’d answer with “Hullo” instead of “Continental” but one time the caller must have had a list in front of her because she immediately launched into “I’d like an appointment for–” and rattled off a bunch of stuff about half of which I had no clue about (Frost?). When she’d wound down I replied, “Okay, but you’re not gonna like how it comes out.”
“…Is this Continental?”
“No ma’am, but I’ll do my best!”
She laughed and said, “You’re right; I’d probably be disappointed,” apologized and hung up.
For the record, I, and most other people who screen their calls aren’t “paranoid,” we’re just selective in how we spend our time. Talking on the phone (especially to strangers) isn’t a worthwhile use of said time.
My work number is one digit different from the number for the animal shelter and a different digit different from the police non-emergency line. I have to ask wrong numbers who they were trying to reach before I can redirect them. There was one call that I thought was for animal control that turned ambiguous. She was calling because the birds in the bushes were scaring her dog. But she couldn’t describe the birds because she couldn’t see them. Or hear them. But she was sure that her dog must be afraid because those birds were scaring her badly, so he had to be afraid, too. She was so afraid that she couldn’t go outside, but the dog needed to go outside, so someone needed to take care of those birds.
OK. I took her contact information and said she’d be called back. Then I called the police line and the receptionist recognized the name. Said, oh, yes, we know her. She stops taking her meds from time to time, we’ll take care of it. I was really relieved to be able to pass on that call without a lot of explanation or a tree of phone transfers.
For about a year, I got calls from women looking for a different E Brown. He was an fitness instructor at a women-only gym and a lot of the girls with crushes tried to connect with him outside of work. It got to the point that when a female voice asked “Is this E Brown?” I’d reply “Yes, but I’m not the one from Women’s Workout World.” which would startle a self-conscious laugh out of them.
I wound up speaking to one of them for 15 minutes as she thought the answer was funny and that I had a nice voice, but I didn’t pursue it.
I had one “wrong number” that turned out to be an old girlfriend pretending to be someone else. The funny bit was she disguised her voice with an accent but had the same speaking style, so five minutes of friendly chatter in I was about to say “You sound just like my ex” when I realized it was my ex; when I said her name she hung up.
This thread reminds me of an old NPR story (This American Life, probably?) about a bunch of teenagers who misdialed and spoke to an old man. They ended up talking to him anyway, and he gave them good advice. So they variously called him during slumber parties after that, or even just on their own. I think there was something about one calling when she was very depressed or even suicidal? The had some nickname for him like “Grumpy” or “Dandy” or something. Anyway, the NPR guys found him, and put him in touch with the first girl who had called. He said he had ended up getting hundreds of calls across several years as his number got shared from one kid to the next.
It was a simultaneously sweet and curmudgeonly story.
User name + answer=Win
Unless you were married at the time, you are an idiot. :smack:
Since 2006 I’ve gotten wrong number calls for Queenie, at one point about once a month from the same quite elderly lady. I started to recognize the number and let her know as I answered that it wasn’t Queenie. She was always polite and on the odd occasion she left a voicemail that seemed important I’d call her back to let her know she hadn’t reached Queenie.
The calls stopped last year.
OMG, which beach? That sounds like fun, maybe I’ll see you there. I think that when I was four, I almost drowned in the ocean by my step-grandmother’s in Florida. I’m pretty sure we took the train there from New York State where I grew up. My mom just watched as some stranger saved me. I could be making up the memory but I seemed to think I had a mustard-yellow shirt on over my suit to protect my skin, and it was the 70s so mustard-yellow was in style. Ya even notice how everything comes back around? Haircuts we made fun of in the 80s are back in style. Puppy, you say? I’ve never had any pets, well, except for the goldfish from the fair, which didn’t live long, and also a ferret for about a year or so. I realized I have enough trouble just taking care of myself, and the payoff of a pet doesn’t outweigh the work and trouble. Same goes for kids, really! So yeah, I guess this guy Amed gave out the wrong number. Reminds me of the Seinfeld where Elaine always gives out the number of the bagel place to guys she isn’t interested in, like Denim Vest. I like the idea of jeans but then I think they’re really not that comfortable. Thank goodness for whoever invented sweatpants, am I right?
My cell phone number is one digit off from the Salvation Army.
I make it a point to give people the correct number, even so far as putting it on my voice mail greeting (You’ve reached XXX-XXX-XXXX. If you’re trying to reach the Salvation Army, call XXX-XYX-XXXX.) I figure if they need the SA’s help who am I to stand in their way?
A thousand years ago, when I was still in high school my parent’s phone number was one digit off from the Dallasite Motel. We all became so accustomed to calls to the motel that we would just automatically give the caller the correct number. However, this one guy was apparently terminally stupid; he called several times in a row—I would give him the number and hang up; we would immediately call back. I think it was about the fourth time he called that I answered “Dallasite Motel” instead of “Hello.” “I’ve been trying to reach you,” the guy said, “I need to make a reservation.” So I made a reservation for him and I always hoped he really needed a room and the motel didn’t have one when he showed up.
I got a voicemail from this woman who needed to tell some guy something important. From her tone, it sounded like a crisis or tragedy. But my phone had been off or out of range at the time, so I had no CID to call her back with. Which made me feel sad.
