Everybody, Always

phone. I was disappointed to hear a recording on the other end.
“Hello, you have a call from.. .”
I hung up. I didn’t need any cooking knives or spot remover or the
investment opportunity I was sure the recorded telemarketer was selling.
I rejoined my meeting and started back in the conversation where I had
left off.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again. A little embarrassed, I
excused myself for this next interruption, picked up the phone, and got
the same recording.
“Hello, you have a call from.. .”
I figured this time I’d just listen to the end of the recording and press
the button telling them not to call me anymore. The recorded message
continued, “You have a call from the Sacramento State Penitentiary.
Press # 5 for your call and you will be charged $ 9. 95 on your phone bill.”
Wait, what? I immediately pressed # 5 several times. I wanted to see who
I’d end up with. Who wouldn’t, right?
My pride had the conversation entirely figured out before it even
started. No doubt, there was some guy who had been thrown in jail in
Sacramento. I guessed someone probably gave him Love Does to read
while he was locked up, and he was probably calling me to tell me he had
read the book and what a great guy I was. I felt myself puff up with
undeserved pride as someone picked up the line at the other end.
“Hello, this is Bob,” I said, as I waited for the accolades to start
flowing. There was a pause. And then a man’s stern voice broke through.
“Where’s Shanice?”
Shoot. He wasn’t even calling for me. It was a wrong number.
Deflated, I told the fellow Shanice wasn’t here. It was just me, Bob. He
gave a disappointed humph and hung up.
I laughed at myself and my stupid pride and got back into my legal
conversation. Then the phone rang again.
“Hello, you have a call from... you will be charged $ 9. 95.. .” I
pressed # 5.