Yesterday I got two wrong numbers from the same man. The first call came while I was at work. I answered my celly:
Me: “Hello?”
Man: “Hello, how are you?”
Me: “Um, fine. Who is this?”
Man: “I’d like to make an appointment.”
Me: “I think you have the wrong number. Who are you trying to reach?”
Click.
Clearly, I do not take appointments from random men calling me in the middle of the afternoon. I’m not Jiffy Lube, or a hair salon, or your dentist’s office. I laughed about it with my coworker.
It gets so much better.
Later that night, I was calmly hanging clothes up in the closet, and Larry hands me my ringing phone. “Who is it?” I ask. He just shrugs. Uh-oh.
Me: “Hello?”
Man: “(mumble mumble mumble)”
Me: “Pardon me?”
Man: “How are you?”
Me: “Who is this?”
Man: “This is LaShawnt.” (or something just as weird.)
Me: “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number, I don’t know anyone named LaShawnt. Who are you trying to reach?”
Man: “Well, I don’t know your name.”
Me: “Then you must have the wrong number.”
Man: “Wait, wait, wait…my friend told me you give massages and I wanted to make an appointment.”
Me: “OH MY GOD, NO! You definitely have the wrong number.”
Man: “Oh, I’m sorry.”
EEEEEEWWWWWW. What the hell?!?! My ear felt dirty just from hearing that. This guy was persistent, so I’m sure that he wanted a “special” massage, ahem. Otherwise, he could just go to one of the hundreds of nail/spa/massage parlors in the DC area.
Wrong freakin’ number. But if anyone wants his number, I’ve got it in my cellphone! muahaha.