“I don’t answer the phone.  I get the feeling whenever I do that there will be someone on the other end.”  –Fred Couples

“I don’t answer the phone.  I get the feeling whenever I do that there will be an androgynous voice on the other end asking for Rodney.” – Jeff Brown

Hello Rodney.  How are you?

This column may be recorded for quality assurance purposes.

You don’t know me and I technically don’t know you.  For instance, I don’t know where you live, what kind of car you drive, who’s your daddy, or even what your last name is.  I am, however, painfully aware of your existence in the universe.

Believe me, Mr. Rodney Whatever Your Last Name Is; this isn’t because I ever wanted to be.  Oh, contraire, this knowledge of your beingness was forced upon me shortly after I got my cell phone number. The first not so subtle clue that you exist and are leading a more exciting social life than me came in the middle of the night, and it went like this:

Phone rings.

Jeff: (Fumbles for his glasses.) Where the heck is my stupid phone?   (Races to the living room and finds it stuck between the couch cushions.)  Hello.

Woman’s Voice:  Is Rodney there?

Jeff:  No, you have the wrong number.

Woman’s Voice:  (Giggles.)  Oh, I’m sorry.  (Hangs up.)

Rodney, from the sheer number of late night calls I received and continue to receive since I was issued my phone number several years ago, I gather you have lots of friends.  You must be pretty charismatic to have such following.  Whether its day or night, whether I’m on a ladder, eating dinner, or in the shower, you’re always in demand.  Sometimes it seems everyone in the country wants to reach out and touch you.

So do I, Rodney, so do I.

I have to admit you have a bigger social circle than me, and I was getting jealous.  That was until the second wave of calls started coming in that went like this:

Hi Rodney, how are you today?  Before I proceed further, I need to tell you this is an attempt to collect a debt, and any information obtained will be used for that purpose.

I explained to the debt collector that I was not you.  He took this information very well.  In fact, he liked my explanation so much that he called me a week later to hear it again.  He still calls occasionally, and each time I have to patiently explain to him that I’m not you, or as I often refer to you now– Mr. Popularity.

Apparently this confusion over our identities has extended to the government because I’ve been receiving messages from an androgynous robot voice that works for the Iowa Department of Revenue.

This is an important message for Rodney.  Please call us back at…

I tried to ignore the weird calls at first, but they came every day for two weeks straight.  Finally, I wore down and replied.

All of our agents are busy.  Please hold.

You’ve got to be kidding.  First they harass me incessantly, then they make ME call THEM, and then they have the nerve to put me on hold.       

How may I help you?

Your androgynous attack dog told me to call.

Is this Rodney?

No, my name is Jeff.  Please remove my phone number from your list.

Sorry for the inconvenience, Sir.

I’ve had this conversation with the Iowa Department of Revenue four times in the past twelve months.

Anyhow, Mr. Rodney, since I have no other way of contacting you, I have an important message for you here right here in this column:

The library really wants you to return those overdue books.