So I just get this phone call, right.
"[My RL first name!]"
I go, naturally enough, it being my first name and all,
"Yes?"
The tone is familiar, but I don't recognize the voice...
"It's David! How are you, darling?"
"David!..." I repeat, trying frantically to remember if I still know any Davids.
As he continues to talk, I figure, oh, shit, of course, it's one of those stupid salespeople trying a new trick, I hate that shit, I'm
about to hang--wait, WHAT?
"...I've got the photos. Something mumble crushing the bugs with the Manolo Blahniks."
"I beg your pardon?" I say, as politely as I can.
A slight pause.
"Is this [my first name?]"
Me, slightly wary now, even though I've already said "yes."
"Um..."
"[My first name] [a last name that's not remotely mine]?"
Ah. "No, I'm sorry."
"Oh, you're kidding. Is this San Francisco?"
"Yes."
"Is this...[gives a phone number that isn't mine, although close]"
"No, I'm afraid it's not."
"Oh, my God. I'm sorry..."
Me, laughing, even as I'm thinking this is probably a mistake,
"Well, you got it partly right..."
"Oh, your name is [my first name?] Oh, you're kidding..."
"Mm. Anyway, it -was- the wrong number, so--"
"I'm a photographer. From England."
"Yes, well, it -was- the wrong number, try again, and good luck with that," and I hung up.
***
So, whether this was some weirdass crank call or a weirdass semi- coincidence: how many times do you get some random caller talking to you about crush porn? With Manolo Blahniks, yet. I mean, as these things go, it's a lot more interesting than heavy breathing...
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12 comments:
This feels familiar like I have read about it happening to someone before.
How weird! LOL.
You've heard of this happening before? Heh... How odd.
"With Manolo Blahniks, yet."
Oh, shoes! Had to wiki that one.
(1) Crush porn involves crushing bugs!?!? I thought it was something else.
(2) When I answer the phone at home, I never acknowledge anything whatsoever about who I am, my name, or anyfuckingthing until I get the person calling to tell me their name and why they are calling. I have had conversations with people who are clearly on a flow-chart where they go into an infinite loop, because their flow-chart requires them to find out who the answerer is before divulging why they are calling:
Ring! Ring!
CPP: Hello!
Sue: Is this CPP?
CPP: Who's calling?
Sue: This is Sue!
CPP: Hi, Sue! What is this call in reference to?
Sue: Is this CPP?
CPP: What is this call in reference to?
Sue: I need to know if this is CPP.
CPP: I'm sorry, Sue, but I need to know what this call is in reference to.
Sue: Is this CPP?
CPP: What is this call in reference to?
This is just if I'm bored. If I'm not, I don't answer my phone at home unless I recognize the number it's coming from.
I had something similar with someone asking for my name -and- my fiance's name. Except it was a satalite company trying to fix install something. It took like ten minutes to figure out what was wrong...
How bizarre....
CPP: Yeah, me too, normally, but this guy threw me off by not even asking, (usually a clear sign that this is someone I don't know), just greeting me in an extremely familiar tone. It's true that in fact some people selling shit have done the same thing, and it makes me -very- snarly; however, none of them had gone so far as to call me "love." Live and learn.
It never happens to me, but then again, my first name is very uncommon outside Israel.
(sigh) I remember how much fun it was to live in San Francisco!
I once had a 15 minute conversation with a person I thought was my dad. It turned out he had dialed the wrong number.
The odd thing is that the conversation made sense for awhile. Nothing I said to him seemed to set off any alarm bells. I mean, maybe this man ACTUALLY HAS a queer Latino son by the same name pursuing a PhD at the same university who is involved in a long term inter-racial relationship with an Vietnamese man, but I doubt it.
But what you described is even more bizarre.
Incredible blog, btw
PS- I miss the hell out of SF. Although it is probably good that I moved. After 7 years of haunting places like the Endup, I am lucky I can remember my mother's name.
Actually, Elian, I think you win, there.
Welcome, btw, and thanks for the props.
comnorth Take a piece of me
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