I AM NOT ANGEL

[awhyzip]

Geez --- it's been how many days since I re-established my landline's lapsed voicemail? And I ALREADY have a recorded message for Angel Artolozzer*. It arrived Monday. *head-palm*


(I assume "Artolozzer" is the computer-generated voice attempting to say "Ortolaza".)

Comments

[halleyscomet.livejournal.com]

The last time I started getting calls for someone who had the number before me, I ended up telling people she was deceased. This was after a few weeks of getting late night calls from people who were usually drunk. I was also much younger and more impulsive.

The calls tapered off within a couple weeks. A tearful "She was killed in a car crash last month" followed by slamming down the receiver is amazingly effective. A few people would call back and question the accuracy of my statement. I usually shouted "What part of SHE'S DEAD do you NOT understand mother f***er?" as a reply.

I'm not sure what you can do with a recorded voice. I suppose you could call them back at whatever number they left and claim Angel had joined the choir invisible...

[awhyzip.livejournal.com]

It's not his friends calling. It's mostly recorded messages, or drs/hospitals, from past samples. And they'd probably know he's not dead. At least the non-recorded ones.

Actually, I'm starting to think I should just get a new phone number. They can probably do that, and it's not like I give this number out to anyone really.

[yehoshua.livejournal.com]

For a long time my number in Brighton was being used illegally by a couple (Cornelio and Maria Bastos of Coral Gables, FL) to defraud the state of Florida. The scam was that they'd go apply for jobs but give out "his cell number," which the prospective employer would try to call over and over and over to hire them, but of course they'd "written it down wrong," so they kinda met the requirement to actively seek work, except that they'd run like hell if work turned around and sought them.

The whole thing ended with a very long, very interesting conversation one day between me, a social worker for the state of Florida, a Coral Gables deputy sheriff, and the hiring manager for a fudge company who had been calling my house and getting increasingly angry at my voicemail for a month and a half.

But of course, the Bastoses had given out their real street address so they could get their unemployment checks. In hindsight, that may have been a mistake.