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Friday, February 14, 2014

Sometimes I Don't Hear The Phone Ring

Yesterday my phone rang.

I walked over to it, cautiously.  I bent down to get closer because I couldn't see the caller display, likely because I never have and didn't have my glasses on.  I did not recognize the blurry name.  Strangely enough, I have trained myself to read the display without glasses, however, this really only works if the name displayed is one I'm familiar with.  So when I couldn't read the display I didn't worry, knowing that it was probably someone I didn't know calling, hence I would not be answering.   So I slowly and quietly backed away from the phone, being as quiet as possible,  as if whoever was calling could see or hear or sense that I was actually at home, looking right at the phone and simply refusing to answer it.  And I can refuse.  I can, and will say no, despite the rumors to the contrary.

Many people cannot do this, however, I can.  I am, indeed,  rather exceptional when it comes to things like avoidance.

I waited for the message alert to come onto the screen letting me know that a voicemail had been left, but none appeared, and that's when I made sure the door was locked, because most people can not take no for an answer these days, a phone call could easily be followed by a knock and then the sound of a ladder being set up outside your bedroom window.  And at that very same moment I felt relief once again that I did not have a Facebook account, because if I had I would have worried that one of my postings would be time stamped with the exact time of that phone call and then I would have been fucked.  But since I am constantly striving to be as old school as humanly possible, I am not that easily traceable, except by that store discount card that I am not allowed to cancel, however  the privacy of my food purchase history is not something I lose sleep over most nights. And besides, I own a paper shredder.

A few hours later I went to use the phone and then noticed that indeed there was a voicemail message, expertly left later than expected.  I stared at the phone, unsure how to proceed.  It was, most certainly a trap.  I didn't move a muscle for like fifteen seconds. or maybe it was seventeen.  Judging time can be tricky when one is being sly and determined.

The trouble with curiosity is that it just beats down even the strongest resistance.   So I caved and listened to the message, completely convinced that while I was sleeping some new technology had been invented alerting the caller that their voicemail had been received, listened to and ultimately ignored and then a prompt is displayed on their phone, something like Resend voicemail message? Yes No.  Luckily, most of this low level technology has not been perfected yet, and besides,  I am getting to the age where anything can happen, leaving me endless excuses for pretty much everything, so I listened to the voicemail without further hesitation.

Ah, this one was slick.   She knew how to play the game.  Oh, sure she left her name and her phone number, but she did not tell me what she was calling about.  This is a sure sign that I will not want to have the discussion that she wants to have with me, otherwise she would have left at least a teaser message, something like "Um hi Princess, This is Sally, just calling about that whatever thingy you were interested in,  so just give me a call back when you get a chance."   No.  No teaser, just "this is Sally.  Please give me a call when you can."  That my friends is a deliberate move by a very pushy person, someone who knows that once she has me on the phone or worse - in her sights, she can use her incredible power of persuasion to convince me to do something that I do not want to do.  She will come armed with more than a few arguments and counters to any of my excuses and next thing you know, my eyes are spirals and I am under her spell, following all the rules she creates, letting her dominate my every thought, word, deed.  She will be the master of my life.   She will use her sorcery to pull information from me, secret information including the number of the cell phone that no one even knows I own (yeah, when you're over 50, they believe anything about you - even that you don't have a cell phone.  Yeah, I know.  It's nuts.  No, really "I forgot" becomes a believable excuse and it's awesome.  Don't believe the rumors.) 

As I sit writing this, I know that she is just waiting for an acceptable hour of the morning to call again.  I anticipate suffering through the constant and persistent ringing of the phone, day in and day out, over and over like Chinese water torture, but I will not cave.  I will not succumb to these cruel acts of an obvious and very devoted follower of Satan himself.

In other news, another stormy day here.  I think I'll make omelets for  breakfast.

Do you always answer the phone?
Yes. Both times I did.
I don't answer to anyone, bitch.
I do, but in Portugese only.
Depends on the question.
Poll Maker

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