Me: “Did you see that the city recovered forty-one million dollars in back taxes from the electric company?”
Son: “Now the electric company will charge us a ‘tax recovery fee.’”
It’s the early 1990s, when local telephone companies are still a thing and they charge extra for caller ID — plus you need a compatible phone. I’ve been working nights for several years. I get a phone call one day from a child asking for one of their friends. I let them know they have the wrong number. They refuse to believe that they have the wrong number and start verbally abusing me.
This leads to this kid and other kids prank calling me every few days, using foul language after waking me. I call the phone company.
Me: “I’m getting prank calls from some kids using profanity and harassing me. I’m a day-sleeper so this is a real problem. Can you give me the number they’re calling from so I can talk to a parent?”
Operator: “I can’t give you the number, but I can call the account holder. Let me call you back.”
After about twenty minutes, I get a call from the operator.
Operator: “I spoke to the mother. She works nights, too. She’s been asleep while the kids are making the calls.” *Laughs* “I don’t think you will get any more calls from them.”
And I didn’t. But I would have loved to see the look on the kids’ faces when they had to wake Mom up and tell her that Ma Bell Security was on the line. And I would have really loved to hear what she said to the kids!
Related:
You Got The Wrongest Number, Part 9
You Got The Wrongest Number, Part 8
You Got The Wrongest Number, Part 7
The Wrongest Number Got You
The Wrongest Reply To The Wrong Number
I am the sole scale operator for a waste facility in a small town. Some of my regulars can be… obnoxious. Every now and then, I’m able to call them on their crap.
Customer: *Ranting about politics*
Me: “Okay, you’re all set!”
Customer: “What, don’t you agree? Or are you just not allowed to discuss politics around here?” *Begins to rant about free speech*
Me: “It’s not that, it’s that this place is literally a dump. We deal with enough trash around here!”
The customer shut up and left, speechless.
We have a new hire at the start of our season. He’s one of the worst people I’ve ever worked with. He doesn’t have an entirely awful personality — we get on well and can hold a decent conversation — but his work ethic is poor. He’s always deflecting or making excuses for mistakes, and he doesn’t appear to have much in the way of common sense.
One day, I’m working near him. He has our cordless reciprocating saw out to cut through some tree roots in the way of the trench he’s working on.
He’s in a narrow stance, holding the trigger grip with both hands, manually making a sawing motion while holding the trigger down, and cutting toward himself.
Realizing that this is a worker’s comp claim waiting to happen, I go over and give him a quick refresher. I give him a better stance and grip, showing him to hold it steady and to not cut toward himself.
Me: “…and always try to cut parallel, never toward yourself. That way, if it kicks or binds, it’s less likely to come up and get you.”
New Hire: “Cool, thanks!”
He immediately went back to exactly how he was doing it before.
I moved three months ago and wanted to get rid of my old couch. Fortunately, the local waste station was about 300 meters (328 yards) from my new address. With some help from a friend and his van, we got the couch there. The worker there was a nice and humorous guy and only charged 5€ for the couch. He even joked about how he threw the catalogue away — don’t tell his boss.
A few weeks later, I bought a new bed. The old spring mattress was so worn out that I could roll it up and tie it with some string, so it was easier to carry. I then thought, “Why would I go in a car since it’s such a short distance?” I decided to carry it there.
The worker looked amused.
Worker: “Where did you come from?”
I just pointed toward the row house we could see from the waste station.
Me: “I didn’t feel like driving.”
He helped me throw the mattress into the garbage bin.
Worker: “I’m not going to charge you anything for this since you carried it here on foot.”
Me: “Thank you! Have a good day.”
This morning, a few weeks since the last time, my dog, unfortunately, peed on his bed. Fortunately, it was an ugly, large, and heavy armchair-without-legs-thingy the old tenants had left that I disliked and wanted to throw away anyway, but since my dog had claimed it I had been forced to keep it.
I didn’t want to put it in my car since it was covered in dog pee. So, after some huffing and puffing, I managed to get it in a wheelbarrow, and off I went.
The worker laughed when he saw me. He told me to park my vehicle next to the grey bin and helped me hoist the monstrosity into it.
Worker: “I should have gotten a picture of you so I could show my shift manager that people come to deliver waste in many ways, even with a wheelbarrow!”
He also didn’t charge me anything this time either, for the way I came in. I thanked him again, wished him a good day, and off I went with the wheelbarrow.
