A couple of days ago, I received a phone call, “Hi, Grandma!” I replied, “I am not your Grandma, and I’m not sending you any money” and then I hung up. He didn’t call back.
My friend and neighbor, Pamela is recuperating from an injury, so I bring her mail to her every morning. Every time I enter her apartment she is either on the phone— or it is ringing. I have decided that either she has lots of friends, or she is “Making Book.” One day I heard her say, “Pickles on five.” Either she meant “aisle 5” in the grocery store, or “the bet on Pickles is 5 to 1.”
Some of my favorite comic phone routines were done by Mike Nichols and Elaine May. To paraphrase one of Elaine May’s conversations: She frantically calls her Mother because unexpected guests will be arriving for dinner in two hours. She has to find something to throw together for dinner, clean up the bathroom, since there had been a plumbing problem, put the kids to bed and run a vacuum over the rugs. She really needs her Mother to come help her. Her Mother consoles her, but then says, “What number did you call?” Elaine replies, “301-9789,” and the Mother says, “Sorry, Dear, you have the wrong number. This is 301-9787.”
Whereupon Elaine wails, “Does that mean you’re not coming?”
Here’s an assortment of some of my favorite (true) phone adventures:
When living in Chicago, my in-laws (and all the aunts and uncles on that side of the family) decided it would be fun to have Thanksgiving dinner at our Lilliputian apartment. The kitchen was so small that when I opened the oven door, my back hit the wall, and my kitchen was filled with wall to wall bosoms of “helpful” aunts. After my husband herded them out—the turkey landed on the floor. Then, the phone rang, and a deep voice said, “What are you wearing?” I said, “the turkey just fell on the floor, the aunts are trying to break back into the kitchen, and I am not wearing a smile! Call back later!”
When we lived in San Diego, a woman called and asked for the Urologist, Dr. Blumenfeld. I politely said, “You have the wrong number.” She said, “No, I don’t! My doctor gave me this number. Put Dr. Blumenfeld on!” I said, “My husband is not home, and he’s not a Urologist. He is an Industrial Psychologist.” She said, “What’s that?” and I replied, “Lady, you are out of luck. My husband can’t even fix a dripping faucet.” and I hung up.
Then, there was the sweet little Southern lady in Atlanta who wanted to chat. She finally said, “Honey, you are the nicest wrong number I have ever had.”
My two favorite calls in Tucson were at Democratic Headquarters where I volunteered at the front desk for several years. One morning, I answered the phone and a man said, “I have an unusual request.” I replied, “Well, I’m used to that. How can I help you?” He said, “I’m a Republican and have been looking for their headquarters’ number, but can’t find it. Can you help me?” I said, “ I think we have it.” I gave him the number and then said, “It’s an old number. If it’s not correct, call back and I will look it up on the computer for you.” He thanked me and hung up. Five minutes later he called back. “They were so rude to me! and you were so nice to me.” “Well, I replied,”Now you know that Democrats are nice people.”
The next day, I received a call from a man who wanted me to check if his absentee ballot had been counted. I looked it up and assured him that all was well. Whereupon he said, “You have such a nice voice. Would you like to go out for a drink?” I said, “No thanks, but I understand that there are lots of nice voices at Republican Headquarters” and gave him the number.
It’s always an adventure picking up the phone—sometimes good, sometimes not so good, but always funny—- when it’s Steven Wright:
“Today I dialed the wrong number—The other person said, “Hello?” and I said, “Hello, could I speak to Joey?” They said, “Uh…I don’t think so…he’s only 2 months old.” I said, “I’ll wait.”
Esther Blumenfeld (call me sometime)