Unfiltered Story #89056

, , | Unfiltered | November 1, 2017

(I’ve been working at this place for a few months. A few times, I received a call from the planner on my mobile phone about covering for sick coworkers. Nothing strange about that. But the owner himself tends to be chaotic and impulsive, making decisions and requests at the last moment. One early morning during summer, this happens: I’m in bed, slowly waking up on a day off. Suddenly, there’s a knock on my door. It’s my dad, in his pyjamas. In his hand he carries the wireless house phone. Apparently someone called the number, so the phone in my parents’ sleeping room rang.)

Dad: “It’s [Museum], asking if you’ll be coming today. They said they sent a text message but didn’t receive an answer.”

Me: “Oh, all right, I can come.”

Dad: *to the phone* “He’ll be coming.”

(Later, before I leave.)

Me: “By the way, who was on the phone?”

Dad: “I don’t know, he didn’t say. He talked in a very neat tone.”

Me: “I guess that was the owner.”

(That was more than six years ago. Up until today, I never received his text message, which he obviously sent to the wrong number, so he just decided to wake up my parents during their summer holiday.)