Area 151

Not-too-many minutes ago, a commercial during the Eagles game contained a phone-ringing sound effect that was similar enough to my own cell phone that I was prompted to look in my purse in case it really was my cell phone.

Which it wasn’t, but my cell was (surprisingly enough) showing that I had a voice mail waiting me. So I logged into the mailbox, and heard this:

Hi, this is Maria from the doctor’s office. I’m calling about your test results. They came back positive, so [unintelligible sound resembling giggling] okay, bye.

Now, I do have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday for the (hallelujah!) de-stitchification of my thumb.  But there aren’t any tests that were administered after my too-intimate encounter with the kitchen knife: the ER doc simply administered a prophylactic tetanus shot* without any testing whatsoever.

The giggle sound and the “Restricted Number” on my cell’s caller ID give the story away: this is someone’s idea of a prank.  And, since the voice was entirely unfamiliar to me** and I don’t think I’ve made any new enemies lately, I can only presume it was someone pranking my phone number instead of the actual person and phone number they intended to call.

Okay, in the first place, anyone who thinks this is a funny or allowable or acceptable thing to do as a joke is already a sick and irredeemable fuckwad. It’s mean, it’s cruel, it’s classless and tasteless.  And then to be the kind of fuckwad to be cruel and classless and tasteless and incompetent because you can’t even dial the right fucking phone number?!?

Matt (bless his optomistic heart) would disagree with me, but I stand by my interpretation of this event:

People suck. 

* The welt from that still hurts a little, by the way.

** And I have a rare talent for recognizing voices.  Test me someday on celebrity ad voiceovers…