I Hate You, Brian Maxie.
I don't know Brian Maxie personally. But, I know his old phone number.
I know this not because I stalk random people in the 585 area code, but because, for reasons unexplained, when I changed my cell phone number a few months ago, I got Brian's old phone number, whoever Brian may be. I know I got his old phone number because, for the last few months, I got calls asking for him.
I accepted the first couple as a simple wrong number. Maybe he's got a lot of friends who aren't too bright and who mix up phone numbers. Hey, I've got friends like that, too. Then I got a phone call from Sprint. Then another, and another. I would have been less bothered by this if: a. they weren't calling about a delinquent account, b. Sprint was actually my cell phone carrier, and oh yeah, c. the phone call was for me. Nope, it seems Brian owed Sprint some money, which they repeatedly, despite clear instructions to the contrary, called me in a feeble attempt to collect.
My friends do not know me as a patient man, though I believe they would agree that I very rarely lose my temper. Yet, perhaps because my sister once worked as a telemarketer, I displayed the patience of Job with these hapless individuals. One day, I lost it. I lost it because, just 3 hours after I had been assured I would never receive another phone call from Sprint for the ne'er-do-well Mr. Maxie, I received another, from Sprint, attempting to collect. My voice rose several octaves, as did my decibel level. I may have dropped a few F-bombs, and at least one threat to contact the Better Business Bureau and maybe the FTC.
(This is a major reason I don't lose my temper. See, I have a very nasal voice, so when I start to shout or scream, it's somewhat hard to take seriously because of its nasal, somewhat high-pitched quality. My buddy Alex has a much better "angry voice". It's not on par with Clint Eastwood's or anything, but it's quality. I envy it, quite frankly. Back to the story...)
That ended the calls from Sprint. And so, I hoped, would the saga of Brian Maxie. Alas, once in a blue moon, I'd get a call, and politely point out that "no, this isn't his number and no, I don't know how to reach him." I still got a few more wrong numbers that I couldn't identify, and then a few more people asking for Brian. The phone calls would slow down, and then the last few weeks, they became greater in number. Finally, I gave up. I went to my wireless carrier to ask for a new phone number. It was a sign of defeat, really.
I can only assume that Brian fled town on the heels of a warrant. In his haste, he neglected to contact his friends and loved ones. (Not to mention the good people at Sprint.) I like to imagine he's adopting a new identity as a Jeffers-worshipping bigamist in Utah, or a fluffer for a B-level pornographer in Southern California, or perhaps a Cherokee hair tampon producer in Colorado. We'll never know.
So Brian, if you're googling your name, and happen to be reading this, you're a lousy friend and a deadbeat. But, I wish you all the best on your new life, wherever it might take you.
I know this not because I stalk random people in the 585 area code, but because, for reasons unexplained, when I changed my cell phone number a few months ago, I got Brian's old phone number, whoever Brian may be. I know I got his old phone number because, for the last few months, I got calls asking for him.
I accepted the first couple as a simple wrong number. Maybe he's got a lot of friends who aren't too bright and who mix up phone numbers. Hey, I've got friends like that, too. Then I got a phone call from Sprint. Then another, and another. I would have been less bothered by this if: a. they weren't calling about a delinquent account, b. Sprint was actually my cell phone carrier, and oh yeah, c. the phone call was for me. Nope, it seems Brian owed Sprint some money, which they repeatedly, despite clear instructions to the contrary, called me in a feeble attempt to collect.
My friends do not know me as a patient man, though I believe they would agree that I very rarely lose my temper. Yet, perhaps because my sister once worked as a telemarketer, I displayed the patience of Job with these hapless individuals. One day, I lost it. I lost it because, just 3 hours after I had been assured I would never receive another phone call from Sprint for the ne'er-do-well Mr. Maxie, I received another, from Sprint, attempting to collect. My voice rose several octaves, as did my decibel level. I may have dropped a few F-bombs, and at least one threat to contact the Better Business Bureau and maybe the FTC.
(This is a major reason I don't lose my temper. See, I have a very nasal voice, so when I start to shout or scream, it's somewhat hard to take seriously because of its nasal, somewhat high-pitched quality. My buddy Alex has a much better "angry voice". It's not on par with Clint Eastwood's or anything, but it's quality. I envy it, quite frankly. Back to the story...)
That ended the calls from Sprint. And so, I hoped, would the saga of Brian Maxie. Alas, once in a blue moon, I'd get a call, and politely point out that "no, this isn't his number and no, I don't know how to reach him." I still got a few more wrong numbers that I couldn't identify, and then a few more people asking for Brian. The phone calls would slow down, and then the last few weeks, they became greater in number. Finally, I gave up. I went to my wireless carrier to ask for a new phone number. It was a sign of defeat, really.
I can only assume that Brian fled town on the heels of a warrant. In his haste, he neglected to contact his friends and loved ones. (Not to mention the good people at Sprint.) I like to imagine he's adopting a new identity as a Jeffers-worshipping bigamist in Utah, or a fluffer for a B-level pornographer in Southern California, or perhaps a Cherokee hair tampon producer in Colorado. We'll never know.
So Brian, if you're googling your name, and happen to be reading this, you're a lousy friend and a deadbeat. But, I wish you all the best on your new life, wherever it might take you.
posted by Phunwin at 5:21 PM
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