The following anecdote should forever

The following anecdote should forever clarify my relationship with phones. Summary: it’s not good.

When my friend Kelly moved a while ago and I memorized his new number, I thought to myself: “Oh, we have the same prefix, 238.” The last time Webvan delivered, they said they tried to call me, but couldn’t get through. I figured it was them. A few days ago, my friend Janie said the same thing. I was a little worried, but figured it was a glitch.

Then Anna called this morning: “I tried to call you a while ago,” she said, “but you gave me the wrong number. I had to call my mom.” Her mom had wisely taken my number back in the days before I lost the piece of paper where it was written.

“No shit!” I replied, kind of amazed. “So what is my number?”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I really have no idea. I don’t call myself.”

“You got the first three digits wrong. It’s 243.”

“Oh. Wow. I guess I’d better write that down. Thanks!”

For those of you who now think I’m a complete idiot, I’m really not. I’m Fred Murray.

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