In early December, my father came down with a mild case of viral pneumonia. He took medication and rested for a week or so and felt better, so we thought that was that. Fast forward to two days before Christmas. My father relapsed, badly, and was admitted to the hospital with bacterial pneumonia and a lung abscess. He spent five days in the hospital and was basically on strict rest orders for most of January. He was released on December 28^th, and we got our first major snowstorm on January 4th. We must have gotten about a foot and a half of snow.

That evening, we got a call from my aunt, who lives with my grandmother. My father had the phone on speaker, so I heard the entire conversation.

Aunt: “Hi, [Father].”

Father: “Hi, [Aunt].”

Aunt: “Mom and I want to know when you’re going to come to shovel our driveway.”

Father: “[Aunt], you’re going to have to figure something out. I can’t come shovel your driveway.”

Aunt: “What do you mean, you can’t come shovel our driveway?!

Father: “[Aunt], I got out of the hospital for a lung abscess a week ago. I’m not allowed to do anything physically strenuous for the entire month.”

Aunt: “But our driveway isn’t very big. It only ever seems to take you half an hour or so.”

Father: “[Aunt], I get winded just walking up my staircase. I’m not allowed to even go to work for another two weeks. I can’t shovel your driveway.”

Aunt: “Even with that snowblower I bought a few years ago?”

Father: “That snowblower you bought barely works and makes shoveling harder. So, no, not even with the snowblower.”

Aunt: “But I have somewhere to be tomorrow. Couldn’t you just shovel out where my car is?”

Father: “No. Get one of your friends to do it, because I medically can’t.”

Aunt: “You know that the friend who used to do that stuff for me recently had half his leg amputated and can’t do stuff like that anymore.”

Father: “You understand that your friend can’t because he has a medical condition, so why can’t you understand that I also can’t do it because I also have a medical condition at the moment? Where’s Mom? Let me talk to her.”

Grandmother: “Hello, [Father], how are you feeling?”

Father: “I’m doing okay. Could you please tell my sister that I can’t shovel your driveway because I’m on rest orders?”

Grandmother: *To my aunt* “WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I THOUGHT I F****** TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL YOUR BROTHER, YOU DIPS***! HE JUST GOT OUT OF THE HOSPITAL! IF YOU WANT THE DRIVEWAY SHOVELED SO BADLY, DO IT YOURSELF!” *Pauses* “NO, NO! NO, I’M NOT ASKING YOUR BROTHER IF HIS SON CAN COME DO IT! NO, I DON’T CARE! DO IT YOURSELF!” *To my father* “I’m sorry, [Father]. Have a good night and feel better. I’ll deal with your idiot sister.”

Father: “Thanks, Mom. Good night.”

My father made a full recovery with no adverse effects from the illness. I was reminded of this story because just this week my aunt called my father in the middle of a snowstorm asking him to run to the market for her because she needed cigarettes. You’ll be happy to know my father refused.

This story is part of our Best Of August 2021 roundup!

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I am a network engineer on a navy base. I was hired to take the place of another engineer who moved to a new building on base. I sit at his desk and use his computers, I have his desk phone, and I ate his leftover cough drops. I also have his old phone number, which has occasionally caused some confusion with people who haven’t checked the directory for updates.

The phone rings.

Me: “PAC Fleet Support, this is [My Name].”

Man: “Hi, I’m looking for [Predecessor]?”

Me: “He moved to a position in the NOC; I now have his former position. Is there something I can help you with?”

Man: “No, I was told specifically to talk to him. Do you have his number?”

Me: “He doesn’t have his own desk phone anymore. His team at the NOC shares one phone. I can give you their number and you can ask for him if he is not the one who answers.”

Man: “Oh… Wait, what about [phone number]? That’s what I was told was his number.”

Me: “That… that is now my number. It’s the one you just called, which is why you are now speaking with me.”

Man: *Pauses* “Oh, yeah… What’s the number for the NOC?”

I’m in my first year at university, living in a shared house that belongs to the campus. The house has a phone number that’s one digit different from a local travel agent, so we occasionally get people calling by mistake.

I’m just heading out of the door for lectures. Since the house is next to the campus, and my first lecture is in a building by the gate, I have perhaps five minutes to get to the university. The phone rings, and I answer it.

Caller: “Hello, I have a booking number for you.”

Me: “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number. This is a student house, not the travel agent.”

Caller: “I have a booking number!”

Me: “Madam, this is not the travel agent.”

Caller: “Won’t you take my booking number?”

Me: “Madam, this is not the travel agent; you have the wrong number.”

This goes on several more times, until I sigh and say:

Me: “All right, let me go and get a pen and paper.”

Caller: *Surprised* “What? You’re not the travel agent?”

Me: “No, madam, I have been trying to tell you that for the last five minutes.”

I was late for my lecture.

It is 2014, and same-sex marriage has been legalised in England, so my fiancé and I are planning our wedding despite having little money and, to be honest, even less of an idea of what we’re doing. I have been given a card with the number I have to call to book our ceremony at the registry office.

I have ADP — auditory processing disorder — so I struggle to hear properly on the phone, so when I don’t hear the answer of the man who answered, I just assume he introduced the registry office and immediately say.

Me: “Hello. I need to book a wedding, please.”

There is a pause.

Man: “I’m sorry?”

Nervous, I start to ramble.

Me: “I was given a card with this number on it? To book our wedding, I mean. And, um, they said they couldn’t do it in person, I had to call, and—”

Man: “Whoa, hold on. You’ve got the wrong number.”

This doesn’t quite sink in at first and I pause.

Me: “I have?”

Man: “Yes.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

That’s a stupid question, I know.

Man: “Very sure, mate, yeah.”

Me: “Oh. Um, where have I called?”

Man: “[Hometown] crematorium.”

Me: “Oh. Oh. No, that is definitely not where I wanted to call!”

I start laughing, which sets the man on the phone off, too. For a few moments, neither of us can get anything coherent out. Eventually, I get the card back out and read the local number back to him; it’s definitely correct. He starts to say something when I suddenly yell:

Me: “OH! Oh, I am an idiot!”

Man: “Nah, no, it can’t be you. You’re not the first; we’ve had a few people call about weddings!”

Me: “No, no, it’s me. I put in the wrong area code!”

The area code for a nearby town — who I actually needed to call — was very similar to the area code of my town! The man was glad to have that mystery solved, and I have been amused since then at having called the crematorium of all places to try and book my wedding.

And if you were curious, yes, we did somehow manage to pull the wedding together, minus cremations, and remain happily married to this day.

My coworker is on the phone with a customer.

Coworker #1: “This line is really bad. Could you call me back in a moment in case it fixes it?”

They call back.

Coworker #1: “Hey, guys, the phones here are really quiet. Is there a button that will adjust the volume?”

Coworker #2: *Without looking up* “Yeah, there is one somewhere, but they are already set to max and none of the rest of us are having any issues with them.”

I look over and see that [Coworker #1] is wearing a thick, wooly hat in the office, with a thick edge where it is rolled up. Our workspace AC is dysfunctional — it always puts out cold air instead of heat on cold days like today — so the hat is totally reasonable. Except…

Me: “Maybe you could try putting the phone under your hat to your ear instead of on the outside of the thick brim of your hat?”

The edge of her hat has to be almost an inch thick of layers of wool and it’s sitting directly over her ear.

Coworker #1: “No, that wouldn’t affect it. The phones here are just really quiet.”