Tuesday, October 26, 2004
So I got a call this morning around 10 o'clock from a restricted number. I look at the phone and three possibilities run through my head. Either it's:
A. My Grandparents, who I can call back in a few minutes. They know reception is bad in my house,
B. My landlady, who I never really want to talk to. A brief conversation with her is the most excruciating 45 minutes one could endure, or
C. Someone else, who will leave a message, and I can then decide, all for myself, whether or not I want to talk to them.
It was number C. (Yes, number C.) Sergeant Mick at an 877 phone number. My mind immediately goes to cop. Someone is hurt, or dead, or in trouble. But where? 877 is a toll-free number. I even go online to check to make sure it is. Yes. Toll-free. I finally call him back. From the second he picks up, after like 8 rings, I could tell he was no cop. Freakin' Army recruiter! Stupid Army!
A. My Grandparents, who I can call back in a few minutes. They know reception is bad in my house,
B. My landlady, who I never really want to talk to. A brief conversation with her is the most excruciating 45 minutes one could endure, or
C. Someone else, who will leave a message, and I can then decide, all for myself, whether or not I want to talk to them.
It was number C. (Yes, number C.) Sergeant Mick at an 877 phone number. My mind immediately goes to cop. Someone is hurt, or dead, or in trouble. But where? 877 is a toll-free number. I even go online to check to make sure it is. Yes. Toll-free. I finally call him back. From the second he picks up, after like 8 rings, I could tell he was no cop. Freakin' Army recruiter! Stupid Army!
