I rarely answer my home phone anymore. And with good reason.
For starters, I am sick to death of the political recordings. In fact, when my curiosity gets the best of me and I answer one of these calls, I press buttons and yell into the phone like a crazy person. Not that any of that does any good, but it sure makes me feel better. And after hanging up, I always make a mental note NOT to vote for that guy.
I am equally aggravated about the PTA Fundraiser people who call my house week after week even though I have made it abundantly clear that our school makes approximately $13,000. profit on cookie dough and unless they can beat that figure they should QUIT CALLING me.
Seriously, it is maddening.
This past Saturday, I received a different type of call.
Only I didn’t answer it.
But Stevie did.
His part of the conversation went something like this…
“Hello… Uh, do you want to speak to my mom?… Her name is Julie…. May I ask who’s calling please?”
And then he said, “Here mom, it’s your co-worker”.
The only problem with that is, um, I don’t have a job. Not that I don’t work all kinds of hours, mindyou. It’s just that I’m not on a payroll anywhere.
I said hello and waited for the caller to respond.
The caller immediately said, “You better show up at work today at three o’clock, you and your daughter or there’s gonna be trouble.”
And I think to myself, Um, I don’t have a job or a daughter.
I excused myself to the basement so that the kids wouldn’t hear me and I got all loud with this crazy cat letting him know that I had no idea who he was trying to contact, but I didn’t have a job. Or a daughter. Or a lot of patience for his call.
He did not let up and the longer I stayed on the line, the madder I became.
The caller insisted that I knew who he was and why he was calling. He was angry. He was insistent. And he was rude. I became louder and more irate. I tried to listen very carefully to his voice to see if I could remember it from jail. (Which seems like a longshot unless you know my flair for the dramatic and a good story).
I’d be lying if I said the caller didn’t rattle my cage.
Just seconds after I hung up the house phone, my cell phone rang. I jumped out of my skin and quickly answered my cell phone thinking the caller was now calling me on my private line. Instead, it was Stevie’s coach telling me our game was cancelled. When I answered the phone, I began telling Stevie’s coach about the call. Less than two minutes later, the caller called the house again.
I told the coach to hold on and I answered the phone.
The Caller started in again. Only this time, he threatened that “He was coming here and he was bringing a gun” continuing on with “He knows exactly where I live so I better be ready.” I was flip, hoppin’ mad, and I wanted to reach through the phone and grab that friggin’ thug.
I could hear Stevie’s coach on my cell phone telling me to hang up. Yet, the caller continued to threaten and belittle me. Plus, I am way to nosy to hang up the phone anyway.
Before hanging up the second time, the caller told me he was “armed with heavy artillery and that he would be here in 45 minutes”.
After hanging up with him, I filled the coach in on the conversation. He told me I shouldn’t answer the phone if he calls again.
Less than a minute later, McDaddy called. I quickly told him what happened and he told me he was turning around and coming home and that he’d be here soon. I didn’t think it was necessary for him to come all the way back home, and he reminded me that if this cat had our phone number, it wouldn’t be hard to find our address.
When McDaddy arrived home, he grabbed the house phone, went to our bedroom, dialed the caller’s number on his cell-phone and spoke in a voice I did not recognize. Of course the person answering the phone would not own up to being the caller, stating that the caller was actually his cousin, DeAndre, who “was at Krogers or something”. I stood there shaking my head as my husband, my sweet McDaddy, told the cousin to tell the caller “He isn’t the only one with a gun.” I took a quick inventory in my head trying to figure out if McDaddy was referring to my vintage majorette rifle, because as far as I know that’s the only gun in this joint.
I was in awe of my man.
I might have even done a fist pump. And a dance.
When he hung up that phone I stood there, eyes wide, trying to figure out what I had just witnessed.
I witnessed my sweet McDaddy defending his family. Defending his home.
And I learned that there is a side to McDaddy I had never seen before that day.
Now, what did YOU learn?