The Day My Phone Became a Towing Dispatch
Have you ever experienced that surreal moment when you realize you’ve been sucked into some strange alternate reality? For me, it happened about three weeks ago, courtesy of a ringing phone and a very confused woman on the other end asking for “Tony.” Now, I’m many things – a writer, a coffee enthusiast, an expert at misplacing my keys – but “Tony,” the proud owner of a towing company, I am not.
At first, it was just a trickle. A call here, a text there. I’d politely explain that they had the wrong number, maybe offer a sympathetic “good luck with the car troubles,” and go about my day. But the trickle soon turned into a steady stream, then a raging river of inquiries about towing fees, service areas, and – my personal favorite – requests for a “jumpstart on a rusty old Ford pickup, preferably within the hour.”
After the tenth call in as many minutes, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. Finding Tony’s Toe Truck online proved surprisingly easy (turns out misspelling “tow” isn’t the best business strategy). One slightly panicked voicemail later, I eagerly awaited Tony’s response, imagining him as a gruff but well-meaning man who’d be mortified by the inconvenience he’d caused.
Tony and the Missing Apology
Reader, I regret to inform you that my imagination, as it often does, got the best of me. Not only was Tony not mortified, but he also seemed thoroughly unconcerned by the phone number fiasco. “Yeah, that’s the old number, haven’t used it in months,” he drawled, his voice thick with disinterest. “People figure it out eventually.”