So, my phone rings...

[mapsedge]

My cellphone rings. There are only three people on the planet that ever call me on my cell during the workday, and I know all their numbers. This morning, I didn't recognize the number. I pick up.

"This is William."

"Oh." Pause. A woman's voice. "Not Charlie, I guess."

"Not today, no."

"Sorry. Wrong number."

"Right-o."

Click. Next time, things'll be a little different.

I pick up.

"0895, receiving encrypted. Go ahead on green."

"Oh." Pause. A woman's voice. "Not Charlie, I guess."

Pause. In a tight, tense voice: "Holy shit, somebody got through. MIKE! Take two men, lock the signal, go find her, take care of it!!!"

Click.

Soon. Yes, very soon.

Comments

It wasn't all bad...

[rowangolightly.livejournal.com]

*giggle*

When I lived with R. our phone number was one digit off from a local trucking firm. Of course, we answered, "Renner residence" that being his last name. Truckers would call in, especially on Mondays, for new assignments. We both spent quite a bit of time, trying to assure these truckers that they did not, in fact, have the assignment operator. This went on for almost a year.

We both got very, very tired of dealing with the "fat-fingered fucks", as R. called them, and began giving them random assignments, complete with designated loads and pick-up times to local companies whose names we picked out of the phone book. It became quite a game with us as to who could come up with the best assignment.

Funny, the calls tapered off and then stopped completely.

Re: It wasn't all bad...

[billthetailor.livejournal.com]

That got an out loud laugh. I can see how you might have had quite a game of it.

Re: It wasn't all bad...

[rowangolightly.livejournal.com]

*giggle* I occasionally felt sorry for the poor receptionists at the companies who had to deal with the truckers calling them, but not so sorry that I stopped....