53 Rock Tuff, P.I.: (Telephone) Bells Are Ringing

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Hank and I had just finished our first morning cups of coffee when a couple in their vigorous sixties entered my office.

“We are Spaz and Emma Tick,” said the man, “and we have a problem. We hope you can help us. It’s a common problem.”

“What is it?”

“Solicitation calls,” said the woman, “Many use automatic dialling and when we answer, often there’s no one there.”

“For a monthly fee, the phone company will block five or ten calls from specific numbers, but judging by the accents, they come from all over the world.”

I empathized. I too was tired of people who wanted to service my non­existent computer, clean my air ducts, or pave my perfectly good driveway.

“I have some ideas I’ve never tried,” I told the Ticks, “but I’d be willing to use them on your harassers, free of charge, as an experiment…”

It was early, so I followed Spaz and Emma to their home and we began Operation Confound the Callers. Mrs. Tick gave me a large slice of very good apple pie, with ice cream, and a cup of coffee which I had just finished when the phone rang. I picked it up. “Hello.”

“Mr. Tick! We are pleased to offer you an excellent deal on new shingles for your roof,” said a heavily accented voice.

“Thank you,” I said,”but we are perfectly happy with the sod roof we have.”

“Sod roof?” asked the voice in disbelief.

“Yes. It keeps us warm and dry and sometimes pretty flowers sprout from it.” I hung up on the puzzled caller.

Half an hour later the phone rang again. “Are you interested in selling your house?”

“Yes,” I said, “two million dollars. Take it or leave it.”

“Is it worth that much?”

“Oh,no, not a quarter of that, but that’s what I want for it.”

He hung up.

The next call was different: “Hello, dad?” I gave the phone to Spaz and while they engaged in father-son chat. I hoped we weren’t missing some unimportant calls.

Just before noon, a soft female (recorded) voice with an English accent warned us that “at five twelve this morning we believe your credit card was compromised at Willie’s Warehouse with a bill of $104.62. To approve this charge press 1. To cancel it, press 2. To speak to a person, press 3.” I chose a fourth option – I hung up.

“She didn’t mention which credit card,” said Emma.

“And who buys things at five a.m.?” added Spaz.

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Man screaming in telephone.

author
Gary E. Miller spent 29 years trying to teach English at several high schools in Ontario. In 1995, he made his greatest contribution to education by retiring. He now spends his time in rural Richmond, reading voraciously and eclectically, and occasionally writing stories and poems which do nothing to elevate the level of Canadian literature.
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