Every so often, I get a wrong number, and a few times, the person on the other end of the line has asked who I am. I usually say, “You tell me. You’re the one who started this.”
The polite thing to do, of course, is to ask, “Is this 303-123-4567?” And then from the answer either acknowledge misdialing, or that you have the wrong number written down.
Long ago, I was awakened in the middle of the night by the ringing of the phone (note the use of the passive voice in re: another post). I answered it and over the hideously loud acid rock playing in the background the caller asked for some girl. I replied that he had the wrong number. He cussed me out and hung up. I went back to sleep wondering how it was my fault that he had misdialed.
Oh, another anecdote. When I was working at Domino’s Pizza, I answered the phone to hear a Pizza Hut employee answer the phone. Realizing what had happened, I introduced myself and explained to my fellow answerer that “some idiot thought it would be funny to hook us up via three-way calling.” I got cussed out again, but this time I understood why.
If only more folk asked that important question, Dave! When they do ask what number they’ve reached, I usually ask which one they thought they’d dialed, and then tell them if they were off a digit or two, without giving my number. Just in case.
Actually, what’s surprising is how often, when I say, “There’s nobody here by that name — what number were you calling?” they quickly apologize, say, “Sorry, must have dialed the wrong number,” and hang up, without confirming if it’s a bad number or a finger fumble.
Yes, that happens, too. (Sometimes I do it, too — but only when the person on the other end doesn’t confirm the number I dialed, and I try to at least say, “Sorry, wrong number again.”)
Every so often, I get a wrong number, and a few times, the person on the other end of the line has asked who I am. I usually say, “You tell me. You’re the one who started this.”
Yup.
The polite thing to do, of course, is to ask, “Is this 303-123-4567?” And then from the answer either acknowledge misdialing, or that you have the wrong number written down.
Long ago, I was awakened in the middle of the night by the ringing of the phone (note the use of the passive voice in re: another post). I answered it and over the hideously loud acid rock playing in the background the caller asked for some girl. I replied that he had the wrong number. He cussed me out and hung up. I went back to sleep wondering how it was my fault that he had misdialed.
So people don’t recognize others besides themselves, especially in another medium like the phone or online. Also, the drugs.
Oh, another anecdote. When I was working at Domino’s Pizza, I answered the phone to hear a Pizza Hut employee answer the phone. Realizing what had happened, I introduced myself and explained to my fellow answerer that “some idiot thought it would be funny to hook us up via three-way calling.” I got cussed out again, but this time I understood why.
If only more folk asked that important question, Dave! When they do ask what number they’ve reached, I usually ask which one they thought they’d dialed, and then tell them if they were off a digit or two, without giving my number. Just in case.
Actually, what’s surprising is how often, when I say, “There’s nobody here by that name — what number were you calling?” they quickly apologize, say, “Sorry, must have dialed the wrong number,” and hang up, without confirming if it’s a bad number or a finger fumble.
And then they call right back and hang up when they hear your voice.
Yes, that happens, too. (Sometimes I do it, too — but only when the person on the other end doesn’t confirm the number I dialed, and I try to at least say, “Sorry, wrong number again.”)