A few days ago I accidentally left my phone at home, face up on my bed. I finally got home late in the evening and noticed I had several missed calls and a voicemail.

I listened to the voicemail, and it turned out to be a call-back from a 911 operator! “Hello, this is 911. We have received several hang-ups from this phone number. Please give us a call back at 911 or [local police department’s number].”

I was confused, as I obviously hadn’t been home to make those calls, and there weren’t just one or two calls… There were a total of six calls made throughout the day to 911.

I can only conclude my cats called 911 to report abuse for “never feeding” them!

(My wife and I are chatting with a friend of ours in the living room. We’re all on the couch, talking about my wife’s recent phone upgrade.)

Wife: “When [My Name] calls, it’s this really cutesy ringtone I found about gumdrops and stuff.”

Friend: “Romantic. What about when you call her?”

Wife: *calls me*

My Phone: *long, loud Wookie yell*

([Friend] bursts out laughing. My wife lays her head on my shoulder.)

Wife: “Yup, so romantic. That’s us!”

Me: “Also, when you text my phone goes—” *plays burp tone*

Wife: “Just so romantic!”

(Our friend says we’re made for each other. We agree!)

(My dad is on the phone with me one day while I’m away at college. I’m in my late teens. English is not our first language, and as is the case most of the time with immigrants and their children, I have a much better knowledge of the language. He’s looking for a medical specialist to go to for some issue he has and is reading off a list to have me help him figure out what type of doctors they are.)

Dad: “It says this one is an anesthesiologist. What is that?”

Me: “That’s the doctor who puts you to sleep during surgery.”

Dad: “This one is a dermatologist.”

Me: “That’s a doctor who treats skin conditions.”

Dad: “Okay, this one is a nephrologist.”

Me: “They treat the kidneys.”

Dad: “Hmm…Let’s see… The next one is a Neurology doctor.”

Me: “They treat the brain and nervous system.”

Dad: “Okay… Oh, how about this one? It’s an OB/GYN. What is that?”

Me: “Uh… That’s… really not the right kind of doctor for you, Dad.”

(It’s worth noting here that I have a poor and very awkward relationship with my father, to the point that we’ve essentially not talked about anything personal in my entire life, and NEVER anything to do with sex.)

Dad: *in a curt and impatient tone* “What kind of doctor is it? What does OB/GYN mean?”

Me: *trying very hard not to be forced to say anything that would be extremely awkward for me* “That’s not the kind of doctor you’re looking for, Dad. I’m definitely sure about that.”

Dad: *suddenly snapping at me loudly and quite angrily* “I don’t care what you think! Just tell me what the h*** kind of doctor it is! I want to know what OB/GYN means, right now!”

Me: *startled and insulted* “Um, well, that’s… that’s a doctor who treats babies.”

Dad: *immediately calms down and pretends nothing happened, then goes on with asking about other doctors from the list* “Oh. Well. Okay, the next doctor is a….”

(I was very awkward back then about anything to do with sex, and very easily intimidated and bullied by my parents. Looking back on it now, I really wish I’d answered him with, “Well, Dad, that’s the doctor who treats vaginas and uteruses! You know, the doctor who looks into vaginas and then puts his hands into vaginas, and then puts all sorts of medical implements into vaginas! Vaginas vaginas vaginas vaginas! So, how about it? I guess I could have been totally wrong! Do you think that this could be the doctor you’re looking for – the doctor who treats vaginas?”)

(I work at an inbound call center. I have been doing the same job for years and have never received a complaint like this one.)

Me: “You’ve reached [Department]. My name is [My Name]. Please be advised that this call is recorded.”

Caller: “Good!”

Me: “How can I help you today?”

Caller: “That other agent I talked to, I couldn’t understand a word she said. It sounded like she was talking with a candy bar in her mouth. Couldn’t understand a word.”

Me: “I’m terribly sorry about that, sir. I’ll be sure to forward that information on, but in the meantime, if at any point you aren’t able to understand me just let me know. How can I assist you today?”

(The caller goes on to explain a problem that I am unable to resolve in my department, so I inform him that I will need to reach out to a different department to address his concerns, only to have him suddenly cut me off, yelling.)

Caller: “I can’t understand any of you! You’re all eating f****** desserts! Just forget it!” *click*

(I can’t speak for the first person he spoke to, but I certainly wasn’t eating anything… though that call made me want some sweets!)

(I recently moved five hours away from home to start a new job after graduating university. My mom is planning on visiting me in a couple of weeks and has excitedly made a list of city attractions she wants to see with me while she is here. We are talking to each other on the phone.)

Mom: “There are so many things I want us to see and do when I visit! I’ve found a few brochures with different activities and have started making a list of everything we can do. I’m going to go get the list; I’ll be right back!”

(She sets the phone down for a moment while going to get her list and returns a minute later. She starts talking again, but mumbling and sounding far away. Note that she is home alone, so I know that she is not talking to anyone else.)

Me: “Sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear you properly; I think something’s wrong with the connection.”

(She just continues talking as if she hasn’t heard me. Her talking is still distant and I can’t make out what she is saying at all. This continues in the same fashion for about three minutes, with me trying to tell her that I can’t hear what she is saying and her continuing to mumble distantly non-stop. I eventually give up, hang up the phone, and try to call back. I get a busy signal, which shows she likely hasn’t hung up the phone from our conversation yet. I call back several times in the next few minutes, only to hear the busy signal each time. Eventually I just give up and wait for her to call me. Five minutes later, the phone rings.)

Mom: *laughing* “You are never going to let me live down what I just did.”

Me: “What happened? I couldn’t hear anything you were saying.”

Mom: “When I got back with my list I sat down, picked up the phone, and started talking again. Eventually when you weren’t replying, I looked down to see the phone on the coffee table still. I had been talking into the TV remote, instead!”

(She had managed to talk into the TV remote instead of the phone for about eight minutes before figuring out her mistake. I’m still not sure how she managed to talk for that long before realizing she couldn’t hear me talking to her at all! She did come visit a couple of weeks later, and we had a great time and got to do most of the stuff from her brochures.)