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Live Paradox

A journeyman’s ramblings: He is no everyman, but one who turns a carefully focused eye on the events of the madcap world around him. He aims to point out what others miss and draw attention to the patterns that exist amongst the chaos. 

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

11:09 AM - Reach Out and Phone Freak Someone

Music: Jenny (867-5309) by Tommy Tutone
“I got it! (I got it!) I got it!
I got your number on the wall!”


I had a friend who, back in middle school, liked to pass out slips of paper with phone numbers written on them. They were prefaced with the typical, “For a good time call…”

I’m not sure if anyone ever followed up on the invitation, but if they did, they would be put in touch with the Walt Disney World information desk in Orlando, Florida. You have to admit my friend could never be pegged with false advertising.

I told that story to potentially explain the next. I’m not sure how the number got into the caller’s hands; all we know is that the person didn’t wait to use it.

Friday night was nutty at the paper. Granted, as some can tell from the various quote logs, most nights are a bit crazy, but preparing for the weekend edition always requires a bit more effort.

I was a bit behind compared to where I would like to be, and was furiously preparing wire stories for the jump page. While I am quick to answer the phone during slower moments, during rushed times, I prefer to let one of the reporters pick up the line.

“Daily Rocket-Miner,” I vaguely heard the reporter say, still pounding away at my keyboard. It took a second or two to realize the reporter was trying to catch my attention.

“Caleb. Call for you on line one. There’s a guy who says he can see you through the window and wants to know what you’re doing.”

I’ll admit I didn’t get the full gist of what he had said. My taxed brain had largely focused on the “call on line one” part. My brain was still processing the second half as I tapped the buttons to take the caller off hold.

“Newsdesk, how may I help you?”

“Yes, I’m at a concert and I was curious if you’re the person I can see through the second floor window of the paper.”

Seeing was sitting in the corner of the building next to the only window that was opened, I indicated it was probably me.

“What are you working on?”

“I’m currently removing codes from a wire story about wolves.”

“Wolves… cool….”

Somewhere in my brain, I’d made the decision to concentrate on the screen and not turn around. My co-workers, however, were peering out through the neighboring windows trying to get a glimpse at the guy at the so-called “concert” within sight of the newspaper.

Growing tired of the distraction, who was probably fueled by something both green-colored and alcoholic, I quickly informed him that I was on deadline and unless he had some pressing news, I needed to get back to work.

He told me no problem, and after thanking him for his interest in the journalism industry, I hung up and turned back to my computer screen.

About then the whole weirdness of the situation hit me like a gross of brick-filled sock monkeys.

“Um…. I can’t remember what I was working on.”

The jokes of my co-workers didn’t help, though I can admit I would have joined in the fray had another person been in the window’s spotlight. I had to get up, take a quick walk around the newsroom and get a quick drink before my brain was ready to go back to the grind (“Oh yeah… wolves…”).

Having had a bit more time to digest the situation, I’ve come to a few conclusions.

One, and I’ve said this before, but my autopilot subconscious is hilarious. The fact that my brain went into old Residential Life mode and briefly humored the speaker is interesting. When one is expected to write up reports, sometimes you are expected to initially repress certain jokes or outbursts because you will be expected to recount your actions. It’s better to save the commentary for the write-up, rather than explain why the subject may have been provoked by your sarcastic remark (even when I “thanked” the caller for their “interest,” it was in a calm, neutral voice).

Two, I find it interesting that the caller actually had the paper’s phone number. While we have a bright, light-up sign on the building telling people what we are, the number isn’t listed anywhere outside. This indicates the caller took an extra step than usual in his drunk dialing. Somewhere he called information or grabbed a copy of the paper to call us.

Third, though this was strange, I don’t plan on having it influence my actions in regards to paranoia. This was obviously a random, out-there act. Though the story may have prompted some concern in some of my co-workers, I’m not that bothered. I doubt the person entirely remembers the exchange, let alone will be able to identify me by the shape of the back of my head.

As I left work Monday night, my boss warned me to be watchful for freaks and crazies. I politely told her I would. She called after me, the trick is to act freakier or crazier than them. I’ll certainly keep that in mind, I promised her.

So this is me keeping an open mind, but also keeping the curtains open.

If I disappear one of these nights, you all know to search the phone records; though for all I know the guy simply picked up a scrap of paper that read "For a good time, call the newspaper at 307..."


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ha ha, that is a great story! I too am a freak magnet for some strange, inexplicable reason. Seriously, wherever I go, whatever I do, they are there in a line (sometimes in a semicircle), waiting to pounce on me, much to the amusement of my friends. They seem to think it's because I'm very "approachable" (ie.I generally have a smile on my face and I answer when spoken to, in an uncontrollably affable manner). I've tried many approaches in an effort to avoid this often unwelcome attention, but as of yet I've not managed to come up with an antidote. I might try your suggestion of acting freakier/crazier than them. Maybe this is the right time to test the mwahahahahas to their full extent. What do you say??  


Blogger Caleb Michael said...

I am a fan of fighting fire with fire, though you may want a friend on call to post bail if your audience gets frightened by you turning the tables.

There are few things as entertaining as being called "completely psycho" by a 30-ish bearded man wearing a Girl Scout outfit.  


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