The Wrong Number
March 24, 2025
Last November, my phone rang. As it was a number I didn’t recognize, I let it go to voice mail, which is what I normally do in such circumstances. It’s among many reasons why I pay for caller ID. I find it strange that so many people feel obliged to pick up the phone when it rings or answer the door bell. I don’t. Unless it’s someone I recognize. Otherwise, leave a message. If it’s legitimate, you will.
And this person did just that. So I listened to the message.
“Hi, it’s Fred Smith [not his real name], one of your regular patients. I think I’ve got a cracked filling or a tooth . . . anyway it’s on the left side upper pre-molar. Wondered if I get in to see Dr. Jones [not his real name] soon. My number is [number redacted]. Thank you.”
Obviously a wrong number, I thought. Not surprising since my number is so close to that of Dr. Jones. This is also someone who doesn’t pay attention to the greeting. I just have a standard greeting, whereas Dr. Jones’ office has a much wordier greeting. I know because I’m one of his patients as well.
I thought nothing of it at first. He’ll figure it out soon enough, I thought. But then he called back. And he called back again. Then a third time, in which he left another message.
“Hi, it’s Fred Smith again calling about that tooth. If you could call me back at [number redacted]. Thank you.”
Wow, I thought. Fred’s a little slow on the uptake. But I thought that might have been the end of it. Surely he’d have figured it out by now. Either that or he’d give up and try another dentist. But an hour later, he called back again. The guy is persistent, I mused.
Finally, the calls stopped. And I just kind of forgot about it all.
Until my phone rang this morning.
I didn’t recognize the number, though I figured it was something to do with the election. Chris Bittle’s office called last week and I missed an opportunity to give him an earful. So I took my chances and picked it up.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to get you,” the caller said.
Who did you think you were getting?
“It’s Fred Smith.”
“Who are you?”
“Is this Dr. Jones?”
“No.”
He seemed surprised.
“You left me a bunch of messages some time ago,” I said. “You must have got the wrong number.”
“OK, glad I was corrected.”
You mean you didn’t figure it out before when Dr. Jones didn’t return your calls?
Poor Fred. It must be tough to be that stupid. And for all I know, he might still be having problems with that same tooth.
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