lost in phonespace
May. 11th, 2004 06:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deviI lost my phone on Sunday night, somewhere between the restaurant I was at with the Zokutou people and the bus home. This isn't as annoying as it could be - I've got a new one on the insurance already and I had all my numbers written down. But I needed an alarm clock, so I dug out my old mostly-knackered handset and turned it on for the first time in maybe six months.
"Answer Phone message," it said.
This was very strange. I hadn't used that number in a year. I couldn't think of anyone who'd be likely to phone me who would have that number and not my new one. I rang up voicemail, a little nervous, thinking about people I've lost touch with.
The message was left on Saturday. "Hello," said a deep, unfamiliar, kind Scottish voice, "this is Sam, just wondering how you are today. I phoned up [inaudible] but I couldn't get the message out of him. Probably drunk in bed. Anyway [he hesitates] we're meeting at ten-thirty at [Bar Code?] on [George the Fourth Bridge?]. Give me a call when you get this message. 'Bye."
Sam hadn't left a number. Poor Sam. I hope he didn't think she (I presume it was a she) was avoiding him, and that they managed to sort out their communications blip and have their drinks together in Bar Code, wherever it is, looking at pretty lights bobbing in some river.
*
(Edit: Google is your friend, and it seems I was wrong about almost everything. There's no river: George IV Bridge is that lovely elevated street in Edinburgh. It has a Bar Kohl, which is a gay bar, so it's probably not a she.
I love the internet.)
"Answer Phone message," it said.
This was very strange. I hadn't used that number in a year. I couldn't think of anyone who'd be likely to phone me who would have that number and not my new one. I rang up voicemail, a little nervous, thinking about people I've lost touch with.
The message was left on Saturday. "Hello," said a deep, unfamiliar, kind Scottish voice, "this is Sam, just wondering how you are today. I phoned up [inaudible] but I couldn't get the message out of him. Probably drunk in bed. Anyway [he hesitates] we're meeting at ten-thirty at [Bar Code?] on [George the Fourth Bridge?]. Give me a call when you get this message. 'Bye."
Sam hadn't left a number. Poor Sam. I hope he didn't think she (I presume it was a she) was avoiding him, and that they managed to sort out their communications blip and have their drinks together in Bar Code, wherever it is, looking at pretty lights bobbing in some river.
*
(Edit: Google is your friend, and it seems I was wrong about almost everything. There's no river: George IV Bridge is that lovely elevated street in Edinburgh. It has a Bar Kohl, which is a gay bar, so it's probably not a she.
I love the internet.)
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no subject
Date: 2004-05-11 12:13 pm (UTC)As well as homosexuality being illegal there, so too it appears was Orange phone coverage.
Anyway, on my return to Blighty Proper, I had several answer-phone messages. A few were for me, but there were a number of increasingly desperate and increasingly annoyed calls from the first week for Laura from her boss. They started with something along the lines of "We've got a problem, I hope you can make it in today." on Wednesday, going through "Please call the office, we've got a real problem here and need your input!" on Thursday to something like "Laura, you have to call me or come into the office today, it's absolutely vital. We're screwed!" of Friday.
Then there was no more.
If the calls had been in the second week, I'd have phoned to let them know they had the wrong number, but since it was a clear week later I felt it was either all alright, or they'd gone down the proverbial.
Even today, I still hope Laura didn't get into too much trouble.