Monday, November 8, 2010

Carlo (and his dogs)

I expect to be woken up every morning by the buzzing of my alarm clock. I do not expect to be woken up to the smooth sounds that are the bridge of Steely Dan's "Hey Nineteen."

To clarify, the smooth sounds that are the bridge of Steely Dan's "Hey Nineteen" is my cellphone's ringtone. Now that we're all on the same page...

I received a call this morning at 6:30am, which is a wholly inappropriate hour even for a sitting president. I let the call go to voicemail, as this was a strange number (I almost wrote "foreign number" instead of "strange number," but thought that might be insensitive, btw).

No voicemail. Bummer.

So that would be that. Someone dialed the wrong number. It happens and that's fine. This is one of the reasons I let forei-strange numbers go to my voicemail. I make it a point to say both my first and last name as well as my entire phone number, which takes care of the wrong number problem 90% percent of the time. Why only 90%, you say?

5 minutes later:

The Cuervo Gold,
The Fine Columbian,
Make tonight a wonderful thing.

I pry one eye open and look up at my phone. Same number. Damn that 10%. I again commit the call to voicemail as I am in no state to receive guests.

This time I get the voicemail ding. Jackpot! I sit up in bed and call it up. This is a verbatim recounting of the voicemail I received:

"Hey it-what?"

I assume it took this guy until that moment of "what?" process the fact that the information given in my away message and his records assumedly did not match. Annoyed, I tumble back to sleep. A beautiful dream.

The Cuervo Gold...

My furious eye shoots open. Same fuggin' number. I vow to teach him a lesson in the most passive way I know and I again commit the call to voicemail. Again, I get a voicemail. "This had better be good," I warn nobody.

****At this point I've made the decision not to go back to sleep.****

"Hey man, it's Carlo. Just making sure you're gonna be coming by this week to take care of the dogs while we're gone. You got the number, so give me a call back. Thanks again."

Really? Really, Carlo? "Hey man"?? I'm clearly not the person you're looking for (I have no friends named Carlo), and at this point you've heard my name and phone number 3 times yet somehow remain confused. Instead of cross-checking your information, you continue to call my number, and in desperate hope that maybe the "Jeff Newman" speaking is just a cover, you go ahead and leave your message anyway but address me as "man."

What's worse is that in your opinion you've done everything in your power to make sure that your dogs are taken care of while you're gone, and by "done everything in your power" I mean repeatedly called a number you yourself aren't sure is accurate at 6:30 in the morning and eventually left a voicemail in which you don't commit to a name and instruct them to call you back without even bothering to give any of your own contact information. And you're going to to go on your trip regardless without confirmation from anyone that your dogs won't starve to death. You're just "making sure."

Carlo, it's no great mystery how you screwed this up. Enjoy your vacation while your dogs are clearly NOT going to be taken care of.

I'm an asshole.