More Life in the Country

For four days in a row now, I’ve gotten prank phone calls.  Four days.

It’s getting annoying.

It’s the same kid every time. She calls, says “Hi!” all chipper-like, which makes me think it’s one of the grandkids. Then she hangs up and my hopes are dashed.

Yesterday I did the *69 thing. Twice. (Don’t do that on your cell phone, okay? I’ll leave that story for another day.)

The first time, I got a phone number. The second time, I got a message saying the number was private. I could’ve opted to dial the number right back, but I figured it’d do no good since the parents were probably not home. I decided just to dial the number myself later. But then I got sidetracked.

The calls had been coming in between 3:00 and 6:00 PM. Most likely before the parents had gotten home from work. I was pleasantly surprised not to get any calls today. When the phone rang around 8:00, I thought it would be someone I wanted to talk to, so I answered.

I was wrong. It was the same kid. And this time, she snorted at me. Snorted!  The nerve of her.

I was pissed. So this time I did the *69 thing and opted for the callback.

The phone rang and rang and rang. I could just picture this kid, running around, freaking out, saying, “OMG, she called back. Now what am I going to do?”

I was still pissed. Totally ready to yell at this kid and/or her parent.

I had all the time in the world so I just let the phone ring.

The phone must have rang about 30 times. Finally, the kid picked up, said “Hello” and then was quiet.

There was some rustling and then another kid picked up the phone.

“Hello,” this kid said, immediately followed with a breathless, “It was my friend, Caitlyn.”

“Well,” says me. “Your friend Caitlyn has called me like four days in a row now.”

“I know,” the girl says. “I’m sorry.”

“Four days,” I repeated. “And I’m really getting pissed.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” the kid says. “Sometimes,” the girl sighed and hesitated for a second before continuing with, “she’s stupid like that.”

I could just picture the two of them sitting there all scared.

“Well, I’ve had enough,” I said sternly. “Is your Mom home?”

“Um, no. She’s not here.”

Classic excuse, right?

“How about your Dad?” I persisted.

“No, I don’t have a Dad. He died when I was like 5.” Like that was a long time ago. I’m thinking this kid was maybe eight. Ten at the most.

I didn’t know what to say to that one. How can you scream at a little girl who just said to you, “I don’t have a Dad”?

“Oh, well I’m really sorry to hear that,” I said. (So now I am the one apologizing!?!)

“That’s okay,” she said. “I still have my mom. But she’s at the gym.”

“She’ll be home soon, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Damn, she just had to go and play the polite card…

How could I be mad? This little girl just sounded so cute.

“Tell your friend Caitlyn to stop calling me,” I told her.

“Yes, ma’am. I will.”

“Promise?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay,” I said. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” she replied.

Then I hung up.

What else could I say at that point? She’d totally taken the wind out of my sails.

I’ll just have to wait and see if I get any more calls tomorrow.