Bzz Bzz Bzz
My cellphone is awake. It doesn't like its sleep being interrupted and is vibrating angrily on the wooden desktop. I stare at it for a moment; wondering if I should just let it calm down and go to voicemail. I peer over the LCD, it's a number I don't recognize. The phone, getting impatient, is vibrating towards me; the table amplifies its calls of indignation. I sigh, pick up the device and flip it open.
Sorry, no. You have the wrong number.
Well, I just wanted to say that my ride cancelled and looks like I'll take you up on the offer after all.
Um, you have the wrong number.
What are you saying? You said Irene would let you have the keys.
What? You have the wrong number.
You can't bail on me now, what about my appointment?
Don't mean to sound uncaring, but I really don't care.
You're always pulling this shit! Fine, be that way!
Wha..why...I am not...
I sit stunned, cellphone in hand. I don't know why I feel guilty for letting this irate woman down, but I sort of do. Equally annoying, I think of at least three clever and snappy comebacks that I could have given her when she accused me of being unreliable. As always, the best is reserved for when the opportunity has gone by. Oh well, at least it wasn't some crazy work colleague asking for a powerpoint on a Sat morning.