He’s Just Arse-king For It

Phone Rep: “Good afternoon, may I speak to Guy Arseanault, please?”

Me: “I’m sorry; you have the wrong number.”

Phone Rep: “I’m sorry about that, miss. Have a good evening.”

(A week later, the same phone rep calls again.)

Phone Rep: “Good afternoon, may I speak to Guy Arseanault, please?”

Me: “I’m sorry; there’s no one here by that name.”

Phone Rep: “I’m so sorry, miss. Have a good evening.”

(A few days later…)

Phone Rep: “Good afternoon, may I please speak with Guy Arseanault?”

Me: “I’m sorry; there’s no one here by that name. I believe you have the wrong number.”

Phone Rep: “Well, I’m sorry, miss. Have a good evening.”

(This goes on several nights a week for at least six weeks, where I have the same conversation with the same guy. One day, my girlfriend and I have just had a fight, and I’m not in the mood for this game when he calls again.)

Phone Rep: “Good afternoon, may I speak to Guy Arseanault, please?”

Me: “Okay, look, dude: there is no Guy Aresenault living here! I keep telling you this: there is no Guy Aresenault. There are no ‘guys’ here, period! No guys at all—just lesbians. My girlfriend, my self, our neighbours and their roommate, are all lesbians. Seriously, man, you’re killing me here. No Guy. Just lesbians. Lots of lesbians…”

Phone Rep: “…Wow. Hey, can I come live with you?”

(I wasn’t expecting his response, so I break out in uncontrollable laughter before answering him.)

Me: “Oh man, you’re too funny! I’m so sorry for that, but seriously.”

Phone Rep: “Alright, I get it. I’ll have your number taken off the list. I’m sorry for this. That was priceless, though. Have a good night, miss!”

Me: “It’s all good! Thanks and have a good night, too.”

(I never heard from him or heard the name Guy Arsenault again!)