Calls to Adventure

Calls to Adventure

Owning a landline is becoming seemingly rare these days. It's a bit of an anachronism, something redundant that doesn't quite fit into the digital age with its text messages, video calls, and social media posts. Yet there it is, gathering dust in some forgotten corner of a messy apartment. To be honest, it's basically just a glorified clock, but then I guess even those are a bit of an anachronism these days.

When the telephone rings I usually just stare at the display trying to parse the number. Do I know the person? Do I want to talk to them? What's the area code? Has this number called before? Often enough I'll end up doing a google search and spend the next fifteen minutes reading through the scam reports. Stuff like that. Generally speaking, I'll just ignore anything unusual, which doesn't exactly mean I'd answer if it wasn't. Chances are I won't pick up at all, but maybe... I might call you back later. It's just that unwarranted attention seems... well... instantly suspicious.

Now, there are these weird moments when I end up acting against my better judgment, like some sort of Bilbo Baggins entering adventure mode. So I pick up and bark my name and keep saying HELLO!? At least, if there isn't an immediate response. Then some cowardly call center slave will muster up his courage and cough before he starts talking. My name is Max Mustermann and I... I'm not interested. What do you mean you're not interested!? I'm just not interested. But you didn't... I... you can't just say you're not interested if you haven't even heard what I was going to say! Wrong, bye. Click.

I suppose in another universe some of these dumb calls might lead to wonderful adventures. Things you tell your grandchildren about. Like that one time when I picked up the phone and some confused old man started mumbling incoherently about being lost. Apparently, he was just so desperate he pulled the trigger on a random number, which led him to me. I asked if everything was okay and such, then he talked about standing outside somewhere in the middle of nowhere, not being sure about the where or why. After some back and forth, I told him to sit tight, I would call him right back. I told the ambulance about this old man I didn't really know and found himself in desperate need of help, somewhere unknown. Unable to explain myself they told me in so and so many words about go fuck yourself. Then they hung up. Hello!? Back to square one.

Somehow I managed to get his name and a few other nuggets of valuable information. Turns out he was calling from some sort of health facility for senior citizens, forgotten by his wife who was supposed to pick him up. I told him I was calling him back and started flicking through the yellow pages, looking for his apparent home address. I dialed the number, and boom! An older jovial-sounding woman answered the call and listened to me trying to explain the conundrum involving her husband. She started laughing and promised she was on her way. The man himself was euphoric about the good news and that's about it. Bye!

Another time I was called by some middle-aged women who started asking about some sort of village and if I ever heard about it. No can't say that I do. Oh, but it's supposed to be in this area? Are you sure you never heard about it? Pretty sure, yes. Well, just let me look it up. So long story short I was browsing Google Maps, being kinda remote controlled by this stranger, being lured into some sort of stalker-esque investigation about... the village. You know, my daughter just moved there, with her new boyfriend. He's weird, I don't think he's right for her. Is that so? Yeah, he's weird. He wears a red mohawk. Turns out her daughter more or less broke contact and something something restraining order. How old are you? She asked. Well, ah... In my thirties I guess. Then she went on about me sounding nice and started asking questions about what I was doing for a living. Strange indeed.

Ok, I said, judging from the satellite photos your daughter is living in a single-family house close to the river. I went on to describe the neighborhood and kept answering more stalkerish questions about my private life, feeling a bit like I was being groomed for some sort of undetermined relationship, which might sound like some elaborate setup for a classical porno. No, I don't have a girlfriend. Why not? Ah... so anyway, why don't you just visit your daughter? Her new boyfriend doesn't want her to. This and the restraining order, you know. Why don't you visit her? She asked. Well, ah... I didn't know what to respond so told her something came up and byee, I guess. Oh, ok. And that was it.

The last story is about as anticlimactic as the previous one, but here and there I wonder if it could've been the humble beginnings of my very own detective agency. Or just the prelude to a neat little prison sentence. Me standing in court trying to explain myself again, unsuccessfully, and the judge banging his hammer onto his table.

I guess we'll never know, like what's going to happen when you pick up the phone...

#freewrite