I’ve had the same cell number for about 3 years now.
Sidebar: My hubby surprised me with a cell on Mother’s Day, years ago, by stashing the phone in my car and then calling me when I was driving home…. before the new laws of course… I was frustrated at first, because I could hear the ringing, and could not for the life of me figure what the hell was going on. When I finally did find the phone, I thought someone had randomly threw a found phone in my car that day. Yep. Sometimes, I am reeeeeaaaaaally slow on the uptake.
Well, anyway, I finally had a phone and immediately questioned my ability to live without it for the previous 36 years of my life…
However. Someone named Denise began to haunt me.
I got many, many calls for Denise. At first I was sweet and nice in my response. “Oh, no. Sorry, this isn’t Denise’s number anymore…”
Then, after a few months of extraordinarily annoying messages from Blockbuster regarding late fees for that bitch Denise, and other folks asking me if I knew what number she had now, I changed my voice mail message to explicitly reveal that I was not Denise, and NO I did NOT know how to get a hold of her….
I began to intensely dislike Denise. Return your goddamn movies Denise. Tell people you’ve changed your f*cking number, Denise. Jeebus, Denise, I swear, if I ever find you, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS!!!!
Then the calls stopped. Yay! I was released from the torture of saying “No, this isn’t Denise” to random people.
But then, on Thursday, I got another call from a restricted number, whom I thought was my Dad. My months, nay YEARS of Denise-free torture was gone, just like that.
Caller: “Hi, is this Denise”?
Me: (Fingers slowly clutching the phone in anger) “No. This hasn’t been Denise’s number for about three years now.”
Caller: “Oh. Well. Can you tell me how to get a hold of her, then?”
I slowly expelled a snort through my flared nostrils…… and realized that I was about to tell this kind and somewhat oblivious woman exactly how I felt about Denise….
Me: “Now how do you think I would EVER know that? This is a random number given to me by the phone company. I do NOT know Denise, I have NO idea where she lives, I don’t know who she is…”
Me, thinking in my brain: “Hey, wow! You didn’t even use a the old F-bomb. Good for you Kris!”
Caller: “Well, I’m sorry to bother you.”
Me: “That’s what they all say.”
Seriously, Denise. If there is ever a time that we meet, I just might have to explain why I don’t like you very much.