My (slightly crazy) view of the world


I had a call today from someone unknown. It was a man, apparently looking for somebody named Heather.

Wrong number. Obviously. Not usually a big deal. In a situation like this I am normally quick and polite, informing the caller I am not who they are looking for, that they have unfortunately dialled the wrong mobile (cell) number, and that would be the end of that.


Today’s call didn’t quite go that way.

It’s always difficult taking a call when on a busy train station platform, awaiting the imminent arrival of the train; it is packed with people desperate to get to the edge of the platform first, ensuring they are one of the first to board the train and bag themselves one of the few available seats (I’ve often wondered whether people just board a train and ride it all day long, with no other purpose than to fill seats – why else are there NEVER enough seats for everyone?! Ever! Is the whole world really going to the exact same place I am?!). As today was one of my ‘fazed return’ workdays, this was the situation I found myself in.

I, too, surreptitiously elbowed my fellow commuters in the sides while I positioned myself on the platform where, I thought, the doors of the train might open once the train had stopped.
I was wedged between an (abnormally large) woman, with what can only be described as a dead cat on her head, posing as a hair do, and an extremely tall and skinny man in a suit – but don’t be fooled readers, he may have weighed no more than a Mars bar, however, he had a look in his eye that suggested sudden death for anyone foolish enough to push in front of him.

I was not that foolish.

Commuting is pretty stressful (they say, apparently, commuters collectively have the highest blood pressure of any other group of people in England…apparently. I’m not too sure who ‘they’ are, but whatever; it works for this post anyway), and you have to be on your guard most of the time.

But I digress…

So today was the usual bustle and fight, and I, standing my ground, refused to be intimidated, wedged between the two aforementioned, preparing myself to board the now visible train. However, just as it pulled in – yep, you’ve guessed it! – my mobile phone trilled it’s happy, tinny tune.

Frustrated, I delved into my bag, while keeping my eye on the train as it moved slowly into position on the platform.
I dug around the tissues (used), make-up (a must), book (of course!), purse, pens (lid-less. Damn it), perfume, loose change, the sock (?!), and other crap, until I found it, buried right down at the bottom.

I whipped it out without checking caller ID (very rare!) and answered with what can only be described as a vague but frustrated “hello?!”

Caller: Hello.
Me: Erm, hello (again).
C: How are you?
M: Um, fine.
(The doors of the train are about to open, and the pushing from the mass of commuters behind me begins)
C: Good. That’s great.
M: Sorry, who did you say was calling?
C: I didn’t (cue amused chuckle. WTF?!) Its me. Don’t you recognise me voice, Heather?
(realisation dawns)
M: Ahh. Sorry, you appear to have dialled the wrong number. I’m not Heather. Sorry about th-
(interrupts my explanation – the cheek!)
C: Oh! Sorry about that!
(The pushing has intensified and I am literally being swept onto the train with the rest of the commuters)
M: That’s okay. Sorry. By-
(Again, interrupted!)
C: No, no, my fault.
(I expect him to disconnect the call now, and turn my attention to finding an available seat. My hawk eye spots one at the back of the carriage, and I begin to make my way there before it is scooped up by someone else – phone still to my ear.)
C: So..?
M: Err, sorry. Wrong number. I have to-
(interrupts, AGAIN!)
(I am now sliding myself into position onto the available seat. The train has turned silent now that everyone is settled, and I still seem to have this random caller on my phone)
C: Yes, yes, I know. I apologise for that. Maybe we could talk though?
(great. A crazy person on my phone. I am just about to disconnect the call, when he says..)
C: So tell me, what are you wearing?
M: I’m terribly sorry, (still trying to maintain the politeness, but can feel it begin to slip away) but you have the wrong number, I’ve no no intention of telling you (lower voice to ensure minimal commuters can hear) what I am wearing, and I am about to disconnect this call. Goodb-
C: Okay. I’m sorry. I was only joking. I’ll go now.
M: okay, bye
C: oh wait! One more thing…
M: (sighs) Yes?
C: what position do you liked to be f***ked in?!
I immediately hang up the phone, and spend the entire duration of my journey home with a face matching the colour of a beetroot!

Who the HELL does that?!!

I will never answer my phone without checking caller ID again. Let this be a lesson to all you non-ID-checkers out there! You never know, you could get weird-talker-sex pest-man next time!


Comments on: "Wrong Number Etiquette – How NOT To Do It…" (14)

  1. How messed up is that??? A good friend of mine has been a “phone cop” for years, meaning he tries to track down obscene callers for the phone company. He has told me some incredible stories about people he’s caught and prosecuted…doctors, lawyers, etc. Maybe your caller was sitting behind an office desk! Too wild.

    • Gosh, really? Sounds like a cool job!!
      But, yeah, what a weirdo!! I was speechless – and believe me, Rick, I am NEVER speechless!! Lol x

  2. Only you, Belle, only you, lol. You write very well when you write, my young friend. And I think you were smart to be near the dead-cat-hairdo lady and the Mars-bar guy–they’re what I call “blockers” (like in American football)– people in a store or wherever who are hell-bent to get somewhere, so you just follow them closely for awhile if you happen to need to go the same general direction, and the crowd parts before them like Moses parting the Red Sea. Comes in especially handy in a crowded bar if you need to get to the bathroom or wherever in a hurry. So glad you’re back!

    • Awww, thanks Kevin 🙂

      Yes, I often wonder why these things always seem to happen to me!? I swear I must give off some sort of vibe or something to weirdo’s, like a light for a month or something….

      With reference to parting the masses when in a busy bar, I find shouting at the top of my lungs, “oh SHIT! I think I’m gonna be SICK!” tends to work exceptionally well. EVERY time. Funny, that.. 😉 x

  3. Obviously someone drank too much of that “Special Kool-aid” before terrorizing you! Sorry you had to go through that.

  4. Sorry, I wasn’t brave enough to show my number 😉
    Next time I will haha
    (joking – wasn’t me) x x

  5. That’s pretty creepy, Belle. Being a juggler, I used to get calls from teenage boys asking if I could, well, juggle their balls. And being listed in the phone book under entertainers, I used to get calls at 2 in the morning for men looking for “dates.” Thank goodness the phone book is nearly dead. I’ll be sure to check caller ID from now on.

    • Oh my goodness! I’m sorry to laugh, but that was hilarious! Though I imagine not quite so for you at the time.

      Sorry for the delayed reply x

  6. Lmao!!!! Only u Belle…..only u!!!! Xxx

    • Tell me about it, Keggy. I swear I was put on this earth for the comedy value only: “what bizarre situation can we put Belle in today…” Hmph! Lol x

  7. Too funny! I like your blog, I found it via groovyrick’s blog. I just have one question for you, “What are you wearing?”

    • Hahaha! Cheeky so-and-so; can you believe people like that even exist! Shocking.

      Thank you for visiting. I love reading Groovyrick’s posts – he seems like such a nice guy. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: