Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Why caller ID was invented

I can be honest about some things in my life. One of them is the fact that I am a spoiled woman and take a lot of things for granted. For example, caller ID. I thought I knew no one who did not have this feature on their phone. Even my still-in-the-dark-ages Mama has it. I thought this was something that automatically came with a landline phone package. Apparently not. And to my horror, I also found out that if you don't have a cordless phone or a caller ID phone, you still have to buy or rent the small caller ID box.
I haven't had a land line for about 3 years now. Heck, just last week we got internet phone. Not a clue how it works, all I know is we have something similar to a modem that plugs into the router and we have now have 3 phones throughout the house, that at various times either work, or don't. Today was the particular day that my phone decided not to work properly.
When I say properly, I should clarify what I mean. The phone rings, you look at the screen it says John Doe 555-123-4567. You either answer it or you don't. And if it's me, I don't. Rarely will I ever answer my telephone, unless it's Steve or the ex. And the only reason I answer the ex's phone calls is because it could be some sort of an emergency with Andrew. And if Andrew is in school, well, I answer it because if I don't, he will call 15-20 times until I do answer. And of course, we all know why I answer the phone for Steve. Ok, I'm rambling, on to the point.
I'm stepping out of the shower and the phone rings. I grab it and it says nothing, the LCD screen doesn't even register there is a call. Thinking I'm becoming schizophrenic like my dear mother, I put the phone down and proceed to dry off. Phone rings again. I, once again grab the phone, nothing. Now by this point, I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind and will be carted off. I'm standing there putting lotion on and the damn thing rings again, this time, I don't even look at the screen, I just push talk. To my surprise I hear a man's voice saying "Hey baby, it's me, please don't hang up, talk to me", knowing it's not Steve or any of my male friends, I kinda stutter "who is this?" and I hear a long sigh and "it's your husband, dumbass"
So, two things to get my attention immediately, someone called ME a dumbass. Second, I'm thinking "husband, I'm not fucking married" and it hits me. Pure rage goes through me, I can literally feel it go down my stomach, much like a shot of Jack Daniels straight up. My defenses are now up, my fight or flight responses are in full gear and I am mad as hell.

I won't bore you with the entire conversation, but I will tell you the phone ended up against the wall. For those of you who know me, know that if a phone is thrown, things did not go well. I believe I am the only human to have an assault charge due to smacking someone upside the head with a phone. (to my defense, he was trying to unplug it as I was calling the police).
As I walk back into the bathroom a few minutes later to retrieve the pieces, I look down and the LCD screen says on there "Virginia Corr. Center" 1-804-xxx-xxxx. WTF?? Why did the damn thing decide to work when I decide not to look at it? I would have preferred a telemarketer, and wrong number, hell, even an obscene heavy breather, but noooo, not me, I get the "If you come see me, I'll play nice" soon to be, should have already been, fucked up my life, ex husband who is a crackhead.

So that, my friends, is why caller ID was invented. To avoid talking to the idiots of the world. And believe me, after that phone call, I realized they all work for the DOC.
**I should have clarified one thing, I had my cell phone forwarded to the new home number.**

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