People Who Call and Say “Who’s This?”

Would you knock on someone’s door and say “who’re you?”

I understand that Earth is full of morons. I understand it would serve me well to accept that simple fact, rather than harbor resentment. But there is something about the preface “Restricted #” which drives a tiny railroad spike into each of my innocent, unsuspecting brain cells. This particular citizen’s identity must remain shrouded in mystery, like the soldier with the actual bullet in a firing squad. And yet, my audacious phone-answer merits a full-on investigation. What is my name? Why aren’t I the person they meant to call? Why have I allowed them to waste their time?

Should I stop answering these calls? Should I let my voicemail perform the task of educating them that they probably did not remember the digits of that enticing “Looking for a good time?” advertisement on the bathroom wall exactly right? Probably, I should. Nevertheless, until the moment that my hope (of receiving some wonderful, serendipitous news via a restricted call) comes to a halt, this will remain one of the things that I hate.

Thank you for your time.