Not my life...
... but could have potentially ruined some other poor sod's. No funnies here, sorry.

One saturday night a few years ago, about ten o' clock, my mobile rings. I don't recognise the number so I let it go to voicemail. Whoever it was left me a message, so I dial up the "abuse bucket" (as I often am want to call my voice mail, on account of the abuse me ex used to leave on it) and am slightly alarmed to hear a message that went something like this.

Woman's unhappy voice: "Grant - please can we talk ? I know you're not happy but, ... you were supposed to be home two hours ago. I'm worried about you. -Click-"

Now my name's not Grant, and I don't know any Grant. I'm not even the same gender as a Grant ! So obviously this poor bint has misdialled whilst pleading with her lover, and all I can do is shrug and hope she got it right on the next time around.

Midnight, I'm tucked up in bed with two huge dogs lying on me, listening to the radio or some such. I'm a right raver on a saturday night, and no mistaking. ;)
Phone goes again. Same number. Leaves another - very tearful and angry - message.

"Grant - you're such an arsehole ! If you're going to stay out, at least fucking do me the courtesy of phoning and letting me know, you bastard ! If you're with that slag Melissa it's fucking over, do you understand ? I fucking mean it !"

Oh dear.

Ten minutes later, mobile rings again - guess which number ?

Now I'm in a quandry - if I pick it up and say, "Scuse me missus, but you've got the wrong number, and would you mind not ringing it again as I'd like to go to sleep now" I risk her not believing me. She sounds pretty hysterical, it's late, there's obviously a history to this little scene and I'm female - and people have been known to jump to conclusions when emotions are running high. I don't know who Grant is, or who Melissa is, but I have no wish to make what is obviously a bad situation worse. But I want my kip.

So I decide to say fuck it, and turn the phone off.

Sunday morning, turning the phone on again I am presented with these messages from the abuse bucket.

One at about two am;

"Please pick up ! Please ! I don't know what I've done wrong. Please talk to me !"

Three a.m.;
"Grant....."

At about six a.m., a much calmer voice says,
"Look, this is the last fucking straw. Get home and get your stuff. I mean it."

Jeesus.

About ten a.m., it rings again, same number. On impulse (because I'm not sure how long this is going to go on) I pick up and say, "Hello..."
Before I can go any further, the woman wails, "Melissa ! You fucking whore ! Where is he ? Put him on !"
So I say, in what I hope is a reassuring voice, "I'm not Melissa, and you've got the wrong number, you've been leaving messages all night for someone called Grant, and I assure you, he's not going to get them as you've got the wrong number !"
All I get from the other end is hysterical crying, and the noise of heavy traffic.
"Please, seriously," I say, "You've been calling the wrong number all night..."
And she says, through the snot and tears, "Don't give me that shit... It's in my bastard phone book !" and proceeds to reel off a number one digit out from mine.
So I tell her it's one digit out, and to prove it I hang up and call her back - and when she picks up she finds that I am in fact telling the truth, the number I'm calling from displayed on her phone is one digit out from the one she wants, and her mobile company has obviously made a momentous fuck up somewhere - that or she's been playing a very complicated and convincing prank on some random stranger for whatever reason (to this day I don't believe that to be true though).

Finally she says, still tearful but calmer, "He's really really not there ? Honest ?"
I assure her not and she sort of laughs and says, "I was here on the motorway bridge... I just ... couldn't face the thought that he didn't want me anymore... I just ...I don't know what I thought, things have been so bad lately, when he didn't answer and I kept calling and calling..."

Fuck me, how scary is that ?

I wished her well and told her to please go home and take care of herself. She said she would.

I often wonder what happened when Grant finally showed his face, and why her mobile network were somehow routing calls for a number one digit out to my number instead.

I hope it worked out ok for her in the end.
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Thu 30 Jul 2009, 19:24, 2 replies)

Jaysus Christ
Well done you for calming her down. You deserve a medal but all I've got are clicks, sorry.
(Tiny Blindfolded Horse Kitten sound car horns would end road rage, Thu 30 Jul 2009, 19:28, closed)

Nice person of the day vote
"please go home and take care of herself"
Purely for that and calling her back to confirm you weren't "Melissa".
Good for you.
(Le Grenouille, Tue 4 Aug 2009, 23:29, closed)