The other day I reported that when I turned on my cell phone I had a text message from an area code in Virginia, obviously a wrong number.
Yesterday I turned on my cell phone and got the jangle telling me I had a message, a voicemail. When I listened it was a man's voice, in an exasperated tone:
"Look, Wayne's locked out again. I'm really sorry to bother you, but could you run over there and let him in?"
I don't know anyone named Wayne, so it was another wrong number. It was a call from the local area code. I don't know where Wayne was, but at least the caller was in my part of the state. The message was also from the preceding night, about 12 hours before I turned on my phone and listened to it. I pictured Wayne by a locked door, shivering through the freezing night, waiting for someone to unlock the door.
Wayne, in the one-in-ten-zillion chance you read this, have you learned something? Can you pass it along to the person who called me for help? I've left a very clear message on my phone. It gives my name. I just listened to it and it sounds good to me, so whoever it was that called for help on whatever you were locked out of, your car, your apartment or house, just ignored my message and went ahead and left his own.
I also have to say he sounded pissed off. He's tired of you being locked out, Wayne. Next time put on your thinking cap. "What do I need before I leave the house? Oops! Better take my house key." Of if it was your car, get in the habit of taking the keys out and putting them in your pocket as you exit your vehicle. You don't know me, but you'll silently thank me if you just take elementary precautions to avoid lockouts.
Believe me, Wayne. I've been there.