It probably stems from my years of working for state government, where most public contact was through phone conversation. No phone call was pleasant for years. At home, the only person who called me on a ridiculously regular basis was my mother. Her phone calls were on par with my work ones, so for years I dreaded answering the phone anywhere. I would have nightmares of the phone ringing, ringing, ringing. All the ringing.
Now I don’t talk to my mom nor do I work for the state, but my dislike of telephone contact persists. Between my cell phone and caller ID on my landline, I generally know who’s calling. Sometimes I answer. Most of the time I call back. I have to set my intention before I can do either.
It’s just a thing I don’t do. Don’t take it personally.
Lately, despite my registering with the do not call
registry, I have been getting more sales calls than I used to. Which means I
answer my phone even less. If it’s important, someone will leave me a message.
If it’s one of my usual contacts, the name pops up as a missed call even when there’s
no message. I know you called me. Chances are good I texted you back a
response.
Every once in a
while, it’s none of those, a local number that I don’t recognize, a wrong
number. And sometimes, that stranger will leave a message not intended for me.
That happened to me the other day. A local number I didn’t
know called me, and left a message. It was from some gruff sounding man who
said he was contacting someone who wasn’t me about a concealed weapons course
he was teaching. Apparently someone else wanted to take that course, and he was
calling to discuss the class. Not only was it not for me, it would never be for
me. I hate guns even more than I hate answering the phone.
Since it wasn’t me, I didn’t call back to let him know he
had the wrong number. It’s the kind of thing I figured would sort itself out
without my involvement. And since it’s 2015, etiquette doesn’t dictate that I
return messages to wrong numbers. I chose to do nothing.
The next day while I was eating breakfast, I got a Facetime
call from the same damn number. Odd, I thought. Does he normally Facetime
people to sign them up for concealed weapons classes? I again didn’t answer it
because now I was a tad afraid.
This guy couldn’t take a hint. An hour later, he texted
me. It went like this:
Him: I am contacting you in reference to my October 31
concealed weapon class. If I am interested, call back.
Me: Wrong number.Him: Please excuse.
Me: It’s fine.
Should have been the end of it, right? But no; fifteen minutes later, I got another text.
Him: Are you interested? Call me back and I will get you
prepared for the October 31 class.
He impressed me with his persistence. Here is a man who has
a pretty creative marketing strategy. He could just call random numbers all the
time, “accidentally”, and maybe every so often he would get a bite.
Me: No thanks.
Him: If you change your mind, call or text me back.
When a little old lady calls me by accident, I call back. I
let her know she has the wrong number. She might have written it down wrong.
Maybe she can’t read the numbers on the paper. Maybe it’s really urgent, like
she’s fallen and can’t get up. She might think she’s calling Life Alert, but it’s
just me avoiding my phone. You never know.
Concealed weapons course instructors are not little old
ladies. They don’t need my help. What they do need is to just move on. If
someone doesn’t call you back, they’re just not that into you, especially when
it’s a wrong number.
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