Picture it: Logan, one month ago. I'm sitting at work and I get a phone call from a Hispanic teenager with a thick accent. It appears to be a North Ogden number.
"Hello?" I answer
"Hi, is Maya (I think...M something...) there?" she says.
"Who?" I ask.
"Maya," (or Mario...whatev).
"Sorry, you have the wrong number." I apologize.
She calls right back and we repeat the convo...except instead of asking, "Who?" I say, "Nope, it's me again." She still presumes I am Maya and lying. We hang up and she calls back a third time.
"What number are you dialing?" I say, trying to offer assistance. She hangs up.
She calls two more times, and I ignore her. She leaves me messages about how she can babysit my children for me or how she needs me to babysit...I'm not sure. She's a fast talker...something about babysitting. I continue ignoring her. She calls five times the next day from two different numbers and leaves messages for Maya about how she really needs her to call her back. I call the two numbers she's calling from and I am blocked. That same night she calls at like 4 am. I pick up. It is not pretty.
"HELLO?!" I say.
"Is Maya there?" she asks as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
"Listen," I say, "My name is Chelsi. This is my cell phone. My husband's name is Spencer. There is NO ONE here by that name. You. Have. The. Wrong. Number. Please stop calling me or I am going to call the cops!"
She calls again.
"Stop calling me, damnit!" I say, and then I throw my phone.
Finally, the phone calls stop. Then last night, at 2 am, Fergie starts blasting "Glamorous" from my cell phone. I panic first, thinking it's Deneal or a family member and there's some emergency that warrants a 2 am phone call. Then, I realize it is my generic ringtone, not a custom one. I think it might be my husband's friend who professes his undying love for me in drunken stupors in the early morning hours sometimes. I don't recognize any part of the number. I pick up.
"Hello?" I say.
"Is Maya there?"
"WHO?!" I yell.
"Maya," the teenage voice says.
"YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER AND IT'S TWO AM!" I say, rather harshly.
Spencer wakes up and offers to call and freak out on her if she calls again. She didn't. I'm kind of mad that I didn't get my revenge. So......everyone call this number and ask for a random name: 801-603-7392. Yay! Payback is such a bitch, isn't it?
Update, Deux: Thank you for everyone's support in my villainy. You rock! It's slightly sick how much joy I got from hearing all of the stories. Deneal screamed at them, and my two-year-old niece just blabbered non-sense for at least two minutes. I hope she told them to sit on the naughty step.