Two weeks ago, at work, I received a phone call. Like any other call a customer service representative might receive while working at a call center, the caller had questions concerning their Prepaid Wireless cellphone. Except, this caller was calling in from Tucson.
We talked for about an hour on the phone with questions concerning her text messaging, what high school we went to, different price plans, where we hang out on the weekends, how to add and delete features on the phone using our website, and what exactly would happen if I wrote down the number she was calling from.
According to FCC regulations, it is a federal offense to write down any information you may come across on a database. Anything, such as a name, an email, the entire credit card information of a customer, could possibly land you in prison, with a cell mate ironically named Smilez, with a "Z".
I didn't have the chance to decide if calling the disembodied voice would all be worth it, because after an hour of conversation, the line went dead. Mid-sentence. And that was it. That was the end. But I couldn't get her voice out of my head. Or her number. It was easy to remember, since I was already familiar with the area code and when sung to Tommy Tutone's 80's hit, well, it just sorta imprinted itself in my brain.
One of my friends thought it was all so wildly romantic, two people meeting, and falling in love, because of a simple phone call. She had just seen an old Dean Martin movie, called Bells Are Ringing, where a telephone answering service operator tries to improve the lives of her clients by passing along bits of information she hears from other clients, and ends up falling in love with one of the clients. But that's Hollywood. Nothing in real life ever ends up like it does in Hollywood. Especially 60's Hollywood, where people stop and dance and sing, mid-sentence to big band numbers.
Then, one night, as I was driving home from a friend's birthday party, John Tesh came on the radio. Normally, I don't take the advice of entertainment reporters turned inspirational radio show hosts who promote their instrumental albums on an hourly basis, but John did make a good point. He talked about why we do the random things we do and the questions he said we should ask ourselves, really made me think. So much so, I actually ran over a rabbit, but that's a whole other story for a much, much later time.
Calling a random stranger from a database wasn't worth it. It simply wasn't. Even if it meant a lifetime of happiness. But using the internet to my advantage, isn't calling. At the suggestion of one of my friend's, I checked the Missed Connections link on Craigslist.com. If my lost caller was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about her, then there was the possibility they may have posted a link. And there was. And I sent an email. And I got a reply. But now...? Okay, sure, I can muster up the courage of an army, like the guys in Full Metal Jacket, but a blind date? Fuhgeddaboudit!
2 years ago
|