Of Wrong Numbers And Strange Ones by Konnie Enos

I recently came across something asking people about their unusual experiences with receiving a wrong number call. I have gotten a few, but most of them are rather mundane.

“You have the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry.” Click.

Or some variation thereof. Even the lady who called for years because my number is one digit off that of her friends/family members.

However, a couple of them stand out.

One came only hours after I’d gotten my brand-new cell phone. The young lady asked for Tony. I, understandably, asked who she was and why she was calling Tony. She told me she was his girlfriend. I told her I was his mother. She told me she had the wrong number. I agreed with her since Tony was only in kindergarten at the time. She hung up.

But really, the most unusual phone call I ever received wasn’t technically a wrong number. The gentleman in question had taken the right steps of calling information and getting a phone number listed for the person he was trying to contact. He was even calling that landline number. Completely right number. Just not me.

The only thing I knew about the caller was a guy and drunk, plus he seemed to think I knew him. Without even considering that I’d just moved and very few of my family or friends had my number yet, I could not think of a soul I knew who would have been drinking, let alone calling me in that condition.

I was seriously beginning to think this stranger was one of those perverts who got off on calling strange women and breathing heavily. Though he wasn’t doing any of that or even really talking dirty. He was, however, still rambling about life and stuff and seemed to think he knew me.

I assure you, he did not.

He also did not stop rambling about things I knew nothing about, nor did it give me any clue as to who he was or who he might be calling. He must have rambled for five minutes at least before he finally paused and said something along the lines of, “you don’t recognize me do you?”

I suggested he might have the wrong number.

He told me his name.

I started to tell him I knew nobody by that name only to have it ring a bell. I’d heard it several times in the five or so years I’d been married at that point. Having never met the man, I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t lying. I was unsure what to say next.

Then he asked me if I was SIL.

I had to tell him that she no longer lived there (remember this was in the age of landlines). I was still not positive he was their cousin so I got a phone number and told him I’d let her know he was looking for her.

He did. I got off and called my SIL. Several hours later, she called me back and told me that yes, it was their cousin. And yes, he was rarely not soused or high. Generally both.

He even called me back and thanked me for getting him in touch with his cousin and asked about my husband since SIL had told him I was Jerry’s wife. (He hadn’t known Jerry was married, let alone had two little girls.) Oh, I’ve talked to him on the phone a couple of other times and seen him in person on one occasion since then.

How did we end up with a number that was listed under SIL’s name?

Well, it was her phone number. At that point, I don’t think we even switched it into our name.

This is what happened.

Since there was more work available closer to where Jerry’s sister’s lived, than where we were, we decided to move. His sister, Jackie, let us stay with her while we were house hunting.

We ran into one big problem. We could not find a place to rent. We already had two kids and were expecting a third (one of my miscarriages, unfortunately) and would have preferred a three-bedroom place. Those were all well outside our budget.

We found some reasonable two-bedrooms but the landlords were not enthusiastic about renting to a family with two kids under 5, let alone expecting another one.

After a couple of months of that futile effort, she decided to move in with her brand-new (only a couple of weeks) boyfriend and leave her apartment to us. (Yes, we cleared the change in occupancy with the landlord first.) Their cousin called after she’d moved out and before we’d gotten the phone changed into our name.

Anyway, that’s my unusual phone call story.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.