So I got this weird phone call a couple of night’s ago. I was cleaning at the time – more accurately, I was fixating on some unusual spots on our kitchen floor – so the call caught me off guard. Slightly shaken, I picked up the phone with the usual, “Hello?”
“Hi, David. It’s [some name I don’t remember]. Blah, blah, blah…”
“Um, I think you have a wrong number. I’m not David, and I don’t recognize your name.”
Now, at this point, I expected the usual apology for a wrong number, and I was getting ready to hear a hasty “good-bye.” Only, it didn’t happen. The lady kept talking. I don’t even know what she was saying – nor did I at the time – I was so knocked out of kilter by the fact that her voice was still going.
“Can I speak to your lovely wife?” My wrong-number-who-wouldn’t-shut-up asked.
“Wife? She’s out of town.” At this point I should mention that I have a high-functioning ASD and was having a hard time making heads or tails of the situation. I didn’t know why this person was still talking, clearly ignoring the fact tat I was not – nor am I now – David. I didn’t know if I had perhaps misheard her name. After all, I had been fixating just prior to the call, so my brain might not have caught up with the auditory information I was receiving. All I could do was answer her question.
Presently, the woman went on to explain that my (David’s?) wife had been invited to some party, and she had not RSVP’d. Things were still not adding up, so I ask for the woman’s name again. She tells me, and I answer, “I don’t know that name.” By now, frustration was beginning to creep into my voice.
“Okay, whatever,” my masked caller responded. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up the phone, mildly confused, and wondering what the kitchen floor thought of the whole ordeal. I crouched back down with my Lysol and 409, getting back to my obsessive scrubbing when it suddenly dawned on me that the lady on the phone had thought I was lying to her. It made perfect sense – the way she kept going on after my first attempt to disengage, the “whatever” and the “I’ll talk to you later.” She must have thought I was just trying to avoid her! I couldn’t clean for the rest of the night … well, except for some dusting and vacuuming…
Now I’m sure there is some moral to this story, but I haven’t figured it out yet. It was so strange, though, that I had to tell someone about it!