My old home phone used to be very, very close to the number of a very lovely restaurant down here. (The restaurant's number is still the same, but we no longer live in that apartment and no longer have phones that aren't cells.) So we would often get calls for them, and we would just give them the right number, and they'd be fine. No muss, no fuss.
Well, one day we got a voice mail from a guy making reservations, or thinking he was. Basically, after listening to an outgoing message that said something to the effect of "Jester, Polegi, Space Case, and Hot Babe aren't here right now. Leave your message, and they'll get back to you" and NOT "This is Great Restaurant. Leave us your reservation info", he left some info about his reservation. He DIDN'T leave his number, mind you, so I couldn't even be nice and call him back!
More proof that people don't listen. And that people are stupid.
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I know you were only sixteen, and I did way, way more than my share of thoughtless things when I was that age, but I have to say that I feel the pain of the employees at the Subway in question. You think the SCs were horrible yelling at you on the phone because you wouldn't take their orders? Think about how awful they probably were when they went to pick up their sandwiches, and the employees knew nothing about the order.Quoth ToasterQueen View Post
When I was that age, I got a phone number that had previously belonged to another family, and they weren't being very good about letting people know that their number had changed. Let's call them the Millers. At one point, I got a call from Grandma Miller and Auntie Miller -- they had flown in as planned for the holidays, and wanted directions to the house. They wouldn't believe me that I wasn't Daughter Miller (I had already established, by weird conversations with her harem of wannabe boyfriends, that we sound alike on the phone). It got to where Grandma Miller was in tears because I was "being so cruel". I felt really bad for them, because their family hadn't even bothered to, you know, tell them their new phone number, but I didn't know what to do for them, because I didn't know where the Millers lived. After several hours of trying to convince them, I finally had to resort to hanging up on them and unplugging the phone.
I never did find out how the Miller Family Saga ended.Leave a comment:
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When I was a teen my mum's phone number was exactly one digit different from the number of the local pizza place. Most of the time people were nice and apologized for their mistake. But once in awhile we'd get these creeps who were sure we were some employee playing a joke on them.Leave a comment:
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You poor thing. I feel your pain.
When I was 16, my dad did what every little girl dreams of - he got me my own phone line. Of course, I used it only for the internet, so.
But strangely, the number was the number of an old Subway. People used to get so angry when I couldn't take their sub orders over the phone.
So I started. <_<
"lol, a footlong cold cut with pickles, lettuce, and extra mayonnaise? Okay it's 6.78, we'll have it ready for you in ten minutes. *HANGUP*"Leave a comment:
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Harrassment?! I'll give you harrassment!
To the idiot that called in today and immediately began to scream profanities at me over the phone because he was getting messages for a Jason - It's called a wrong number and
Get The Fu@$ over it!!!!
You've waited until we've called and left messages four times. Then you think that screaming at me is the best way to go. And then start threatening me over this "harrassment" that we are doing.
Dude, it's only harrassment if you tell us we have the wrong number and we continue to call.
You were disgusting, condensending and just plain nasty. And the fact that you just seemed upset when talking to my male manager makes me want to track you down and kick you where it would hurt the most.
If this is the way you react to wrong numbers, I'm praying that some poor granny never mistakenly calls you.
Ass.
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