What Happens In Vegas, Happens In Canada

(I’m in school in the morning, waiting for the bell to ring and let me in to class, when I receive a phone call from a number which is identified by caller ID as being from Las Vegas, Nevada. As this is the fifteenth such call in the last seven minutes, I decide to answer just to see what they want.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: *sounding drunk* “Dude, where the f*** are you?”

Me: “I think you have the wrong number… I’m in Canada.”

Caller: “I’m in deep s***, dude. I need thirty thousand dollars, like, right now.”

Me: “I don’t think I am who you think I am.”

Caller: *pause* “But… I need $30,000.”

(I continued trying to convince him that I was neither able nor willing to loan thirty thousand dollars to someone I’d never met who was five thousand kilometers away, but he refused to believe me. I was eventually forced to just hang up on him – which I hadn’t wanted to do as I had been taught it was rude, even with people like that – when the bell rang. I don’t know if he called back because I then turned my phone off for class.)