Wednesday, March 04, 2009

So Cruel

So I’m at home this afternoon, just coming in from walking the dog, and the phone rings. I check the caller ID: the name is blocked, but there’s a number with a local area code, so I pick up. They ask for D.

“She’s unavailable, can I take a message?”

“Is there another number where we can reach her? A cell phone? A work number?”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa—may I ask who’s calling, please?”

“I’m calling from 100.5, the Drive—she entered a contest with us, and if I can’t get in touch with her we’ve got to go to the next name on the list…”

Contest? D never told me about a contest. This seems kind of weird. I don’t know if I want to give out her work phone number—I mean, even I don’t feel comfortable calling while she’s at the clinic. What if she’s with a patient? Wait; she’s got her cell-phone with her. That should be okay.

So I give the muppet D’s cell-phone number, and she rings off, and I almost forget about it.

D gets home four hours later, and I ask her, “Did the radio station people ever get in touch with you? About some contest? I gave them your cell number…”

“My phone wasn’t turned on,” she sez, staring at me with dawning horror.

Because the grand prize of this contest, as it turns out, was a trip to Boston.

To see U2.

With the band that D has LOVED MORE THAN ANY OTHER SINCE SHE WAS 14 YEARS OLD, a band that we both still love despite ourselves, that looms large in our shared history—and now Claire is discovering them, unprompted by us, and getting into them deep as only a 12-year old can. Dawning horror.

On the other hand, her prize might have been just a copy of the new CD. Still, I reckon I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.


Magazine Man said...


I cringe with you, but I just have to ask:

Couldn't you have just said, "Yeah, hold on a sec. She's home sick with strep." And then got right back on and pretended you were her? Actually, you wouldn't have needed the cold excuse. If memory serves, you can do a pretty good falsetto, big guy that you are. Of course, had you known the stakes, I know you would have passed along her work number.

Also, there's that weird personality tic of yours that would have got in the way of such a scheme. You know, that honesty thing.


I feel for you, brother. Here's hoping the prize was just a bumper sticker.

Jack Feerick said...

Well, if we knew the stakes beforehand, we would all of us do things a lot differently, no?