I am working as an investigator for a National Health Service project. We are dealing with client claims but we aren’t client-facing. It is very rare that the phone rings.

The phone goes off and everyone freezes like naughty meerkats. I’m nominated to answer it.

Me: “Hello, NHS Wales, [Project]. How can I help?”

Caller: “Hello? I want to pay my bill!”

The old fella is after [Gas Company]. He politely excuses himself and all is well.

Two minutes later, the phone goes off again.

Me: “Hello, NHS Wales—”

Caller: “[Gas Company]?!”

Me: “Ah, no, sir, here’s the number for [Gas Company].”

I Google the number and pass it on, and it’s fine.

Two minutes later…

Me: “Hello, NHS Wales—”

Caller: “But I’m looking for [Gas Company]! My bill!”

Me: “Okay. Hang on two ticks, please, sir.”

I put him on hold, dialed up [Gas Company] customer service, waited until it was connected, and forwarded him through.

Quite some time ago, my girlfriend and I (now my wife of more than fifteen years) moved in together and had to set up everything: cable, Internet, phone, etc. We got our home phone number, our two cell phones, and we were off to the races.

Almost immediately, we started getting calls for an establishment that does custom framing and various other art-related things. Of course, we had caller ID, and we had friends that would call us, but inevitably, if we didn’t recognize the number, it was someone wanting to find out if their order was complete, or their frame was done, or what their hours were, or any of a thousand other questions.

I’m sure anyone else who has had this happen will recognize this exchange.

Us: “Sorry, that’s no longer their number. This is a residence.”

Us: “Yes, I’m sure.”

Us: “No, I’m not giving you my address.”

Us: “No, I don’t know their new number.”

Us: “Yes, I have a phone book, but so do you.”

After a thousand of these, we changed the message on our answering machine to say, “This is not, I repeat not, [Art Shop]. If you are trying to reach [Art Shop], please hang up, look up their number, and try that, because we aren’t them.”

Eventually, I got my gazillionth call.

Me: “Where do people keep getting this number?”

Caller #1: “It’s printed on my receipt. I guess I’ll just call this other number.”

Me: “Any chance you can give me that number? Thanks!”

I called the other number.

Owner: “Hello, [Art Shop].”

Me: “You guys are still giving out my home phone number on your receipts.”

Owner: “Yeah. So?”

Me: “Well, f****** stop it. It’s been at least a year since you haven’t had that number. At least cross it out or something.”

Owner: “That’s a pain in the a**. I’m not making my employees do that.”

Me: “So, you’re the manager?”

Owner: “I’m the owner.”

Me: “So, let me see if I have this right. You, what was your name again?”

Owner: “[Owner].”

Me: “You, [Owner], have decided that it’s too inconvenient to cross my home phone number off of your receipts, so you’re just going to keep giving it out?”

Owner: “What are you gonna do? Sue me?”

Me: “Maybe.”

Owner: “Whatever. I’ve got s*** to do. Bye.”

I called a lawyer, but I didn’t really have a leg to stand on.

I went to the store and asked for the owner.

Employee: “[Owner]’s not here. He’s hardly ever here, really. You want me to call him?”

Me: “No, I’m fine. I know this is going to sound odd, but is there any chance I can see one of your receipts?”

She picked up a receipt book and showed it to me. Sure enough, it had my phone number at the top, above another one.

Me: “I thought so. I couldn’t get you at the other number, some guy yelled at me, and I didn’t have my old receipt, so I had to come down here.”

Employee: “We’ve been having that happen a lot, ever since [Owner] decided we didn’t need two phone lines. But he had just bought like twenty boxes of these receipt books and business cards, and he’s too cheap to buy more until they run out. I’d hate to be that guy.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s gotta suck.”

I went home and hatched my evil plan. The next time I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize:

Me: “Hello, [Art Shop].”

Caller #2: “Hi, this is [Caller #2]. I dropped off [item] last week to be framed. Is it ready?”

Me: “Let me check. Yup. We finished it this morning. I hope you don’t mind, but we decided to upgrade the matting because of the weight of the piece. It’s the same color, and we won’t be charging you for it, since it was my decision.”

Caller #2: “Oh, thank you. I’ll be down to pick it up later today. What time do you close?”

I look down at the business card, with my number and the hours clearly marked 11:00 to 4:00.

Me: “Take your time; we’ll be here until 7:00.”

Caller #2: “Thank you so much. Can you tell me how much that was?”

Me: “$19.99, ma’am, plus tax, so $21.39.”

Caller #2: “Wow, that’s cheap. Are you sure?”

Me: “Of course. If anyone has a problem, tell them you talked to [Owner].”

Caller #2: “Okay, see you around 6:00.”

Me: “See you then. Thank you for calling [Art Shop].”

For WEEKS I kept giving out completely random information.

“How much is a 36″x48″ matted frame?” “Let’s say $24.99.” “Wow, that’s cheap. How much to have it done custom, how I want it?” “Custom is an extra $10, so $34.99.” “Wow, that’s cheap. I’ll be right down. What was your name?” “[Owner].” “See you in ten, [Owner].”

“How much to have the entire front page of the New York Times from 9/11 mounted and framed?” “$33.99, unless you want our special, proprietary newspaper frame and mat service, only $49.99 and guaranteed for life, only at [Art Shop]. Tell them [Owner] sent you.”

I can only imagine the number of pissed-off people who showed up to pick up orders that weren’t ready, and when they finally were, they were given a price WAAAAY higher than what “[Owner]” had told them over the phone.

Eventually, someone let slip that “they called the number on the receipt, and that’s what [Owner] had told them.” [Owner] was NOT happy.

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Art Shop]. This is [Owner].”

Owner: “YOU’RE NOT [OWNER]! I’M [OWNER]! ARE YOU TRYING TO PUT ME OUT OF BUSINESS?!”

Me: “Why, [Owner], whatever do you mean?”

Owner: “Someone has been giving prices to my customers and telling them their orders are in when they’re not due for weeks.”

Me: “Well, [Owner], who called them?”

Owner: “Nobody called them; they called us.”

Me: “Then what’s the problem? If someone called you and got pricing information, that would seem to be your problem.”

Owner: “They didn’t call me; they called you.”

Me: “Well, how would that happen?”

Owner: “Your number is on my receipts and business cards.”

Me: “My, my. It seems to me there’s a very simple solution here. Take my number off your receipts and business cards.”

Owner: “Do you have any idea how much promotional materials cost?”

Me: “Is it more than it costs to do these jobs for the prices you’re quoting? Is it more than it costs to lose customers, or less than that?”

Owner: “This is extortion!”

Me: “Call it what you want, [Owner]. The choices, and consequences, are entirely up to you.”

A week later:

Me: “Hello, [Art Shop]. This is [Owner].”

Owner: “I’VE ORDERED NEW RECEIPT BOOKS AND CARDS! CAN YOU PLEASE STOP THIS BULLS***!”

Me: “Sure. Bye, [Owner]!”

I didn’t let him off the hook until the calls stopped, but it was only a week or so after he called me back. He must have paid for expedited shipping.

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Somebody has been giving people my work cell phone number instead of theirs. It’s gone pretty much like this for months now.

Me: “Good afternoon, [My Name] speaking.”

Caller: “Hello, Debbie, I was just calling to—”

Me: “I’m sorry, I am not Debbie. My name is [My Name].”

Caller: “Oh, could you put Debbie Green on, please? Thank you, dear.”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. There is no one by that name here.”

Caller: “But Debbie gave me this number for her, and I…”

Me: “I’m afraid she has made a mistake. This is my cell phone number; it has never belonged to Debbie.”

Caller: “All right, what number should I call her on, then?”

Me: “I have no idea. I don’t know Debbie. This is a work cell phone.”

Caller: “Oh! Well, she probably gave me the office number, instead. Can you transfer me to Debbie Green?”

Me: “Debbie does not work with me.”

Caller: “Are you sure? How many people work with you?”

Me: “Ma’am, this is the Internal Revenue Service.”

Caller: “Ah. Never mind, then. You thief.” *Click*

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. How may I direct your call?”

Silence.

Me: “Hello? This is [My Company].”

Caller: “Hello? Who is this? Is this [Medical Billing Company]?”

Me: “No, sir. This is [My Company]. We are one number off from [Medical Billing Company]. Do you need their number?”

Nine times out of ten, the next response is, “Oh, yes, please.” Not this time.

Caller: “I received this bill. It says, ‘[Medical Billing Company] Billing Statement.’ I’ve paid it off, but you guys keep sending it to me. What’s going on?”

Me: “We are not affiliated with [Medical Billing Company]. [My Company] does not send out bills. You will need to call [Medical Billing Company]. Do you need their number?”

Caller: *Aggressively* “Well, it should be on the letter here, don’t you think? I’ve got it. That’s what I called.”

Me: “You have reached [My Company]. You want [Medical Billing Company]. Their number is [number]. We cannot help you with your bill; we are not affiliated with them.”

Caller: “That’s the same number I’ve got! I’m in the right place! Why are you guys still billing me?”

Me: “Sir, you have reached [My Company’s number, emphasis on incorrect digit]. You want [correct number, emphasis on correct digit]. That is [Medical Billing Company]. You will need to call [correct number]. I cannot help you.”

Click.

This is in the early 2000s. My cell phone rings with an unfamiliar landline number.

Me: “Hello?”

Teenage Girl: “Who is this?”

I’ve had my share of prank calls and drama with exes spying on me through creative means. I know not to answer that.

Me: “Who are you looking for?”

Teenage Girl: “Again, who are you?”

Me: “And once again, who are you looking for?”

Teenage Girl: “I found this number on a piece of paper in my house. Tell me who you are! Now!”

Me: *Deepening voice* “You dialed the wrong number!”

I give an evil vampire laugh and then hang up. I toss the phone on my couch and go back to playing my game. The phone rings again with the same number. I pick up again.

Teenage Boy: “Who the f*** is this?”

Me: *Deepened voice* “You tell me.”

Teenage Boy: “You want me to come kick your a**?”

I hear the girl in the background.

Teenage Girl: “Don’t threaten him! You have no idea who it is; he could be some sick serial killer!”

Teenage Boy: “S***! Okay, listen, I’m sorry—”

Me: *Sinister cackling* “Too late!” *Hangs up*

The phone rings again — same number. This is getting almost comical. I briefly debate letting it go to voicemail, but then I remember that I state my first and last name in the voicemail greeting. This time, I pick up and push the “End” button to immediately hang up. This happens three consecutive times before I decide to answer again.

Me: *Deep voice* “And who is annoying me this time?”

Middle-Aged Woman: “Excuse me, who is this?”

Me: “Jack the Ripper. Would you like to order a hit? I accept vehicle titles, property deeds, and written wills.”

Middle-Aged Woman: *Slight pause* “You’re going to jail! Why are you harassing and threatening my children? You want a nine-millimeter in your head? We got plenty of guns here!”

Me: “To my recollection, I’m the only person who is literally receiving harassing and threatening phone calls from you, my lady. Of course, if you would care to feel safer, you should consider hanging up and not dialing this number ever again.”

Middle-Aged Woman: “WHO ARE YOU?”

Me: “Who are you?”

Middle-Aged Woman: “WHO ARE YOU?”

Me: “Who are you?”

Middle-Aged Woman: “WHO ARE YOU?”

Me: “Who are you?”

Middle-Aged Woman: “You’re in deep! Hope you like jail!”

Me: “I’m shaking in my boots.” *Hangs up*

Thirty minutes later, the phone rings again with a different, unfamiliar number.

Officer: “Good afternoon, this is [Officer] with [City] Police. I received a complaint that you’ve been making threatening phone calls to a family—”

Me: “Officer, I will gladly run over to my cell phone provider right now and have them fax your precinct my cell phone records, which will show that not one single call from my number was placed to those bozos, and every single call was from their number to mine. If they feel any discomfort, they can feel free to stop calling me as, more than likely, they dialed the wrong number.”

The officer asked for my side of the story, I gave it, and she gave a relieved laugh and let me know she’d inform them of what was going on.

I never heard back from them again.