“Aloha! This is Paula Bender. If you’re looking for someone else, SORRY! This is my number now.”
When I got my new iPhone4 back in March, I also got a new Verizon telephone number. I don’t blame Verizon. How would they know? Maybe when a telephone number is disconnected, it should stay dormant for a 90-day period so new phone number owners like me don’t have to clean up the slop left by their former owners.
Apparently, this number belonged to a guy named Daniel. Apparently, Daniel was into retail recreational pharmaceuticals. Apparently, Daniel was into it 24/7. How do I know? Apparently, Daniel did not leave a forwarding number.
I don’t work for Daniel, but it feels like I do. I get calls and text messages all the time for Daniel. It’s annoying. I’d like it to stop. I would like all of Daniel’s friends to stop trying to reach him. He’s gone. I have no idea where he is. I do not know if he is in the witness protection program, has amnesia, fell off a boat, moved to Costa Rica, or is in prison.
It’s true, I really do not know whether these people reaching out to Daniel are looking for drugs. Maybe they miss him. Maybe they just wanna hang out, shoot some pool, or down a few beers. I don’t know if Daniel is into guys or into girls. The text all have a ‘boy feel’ to them if you ask me. I could be wrong. He might be a psychoanalyst available to those in distress. When my phone rang last night at about 12:20 a.m., John answered it. He thought that might help put some teeth into the “this isn’t Daniel’s number anymore” message.
Let’s agree that people who call each other at 12:20 a.m. are basically dumb shits and leave it at that. And, yes, those are the phone numbers these calls came from.
Please hang up and try again.