Why are people so reluctant to believe that they have the wrong number?
I got a call today from a man to say he was on his way with the plasterboard we had ordered. Which was exciting, as we hadn’t ordered any plasterboard, considered ordering any plasterboard or even discussed the need for any plasterboard. I mean, saying all that I was still quite hesitant as I had to rack my brains in case we had ordered plasterboard for something. Not that I could think what the something would be, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have happened.
It hadn’t happened. We have not ordered any plasterboard.
So I told the man so.
And instead of accepting that, he started to kind of passively argue with me. Explaining that it was plasterboard from Myers, and he was on his way with it. All of which I understood from his first sentence in which he said “I’m from Myers, I’m on my way with the plasterboard you ordered.” The same sentence to which I replied, “I think you have the wrong number.”
So, again, I explained that it wasn’t me he wanted.
And there was a pause. And I thought he’d got it. And then he asked me if I was at an address which wasn’t ours. Presumably, although record keeping doesn’t seem to be their thing, the address to which the plasterboard should go.
Now, given that I had already said he’d got the wrong number, it was unlikely I lived at that address but hey, he seemed to think he had to give it a go. Although quite how he thought that conversation would play out baffles me.
“Oh yes, that is my address. Oh the plasterboard! Right. Sorry, I didn’t understand you at first when you said you were delivering plasterboard. But now you have said an address to me it clearly makes a lot more sense. Yes, yes, the plasterboard is for me. I shall await your arrival with a cup of tea and a bun.”
Even if I did live there, in order to save face having denied all knowledge of the plasterboard I’d have said I didn’t. And then maybe put on a voice when the man delivering the plasterboard came along. Or made myself scarce or something.
As it wasn’t our address, though, I confirmed that I was very much not there. Which then led to further muttering as the mental cogs span in his head. Because it’s the height of bad manners to turn up to a place with a van full of plasterboard when you haven’t told them you’re coming. It must be, because he seemed genuinely gutted that I wasn’t the droid he was looking for.
And, after several long minutes of discussing the plasterboard dissemination service he agreed that he must, indeed, have the wrong number. Something which I pointed out at the start of the whole affair, but it’s nice to get a second opinion.
Had I been in a more playful mood, I would have chosen that moment to go “Haaaaaaaaa! Just kidding!” But that seemed cruel. And I have no idea what I’d have done with that plasterboard anyway.