My phone buzzes. I look at the display.“Unknown”. Telemarketers, probably. I accept the call before the ringtone kicks in.
A pause on their end. And then:
‘Oh hello, is Mona there please?’
I sigh a sigh I’ve had much practice with.
‘I’m sorry, there’s nobody by that name at this number.’
My thumb knows where the red button is; a two-toned jingle whispers from the block in my hand and I curse Mona to end this bloody ritual once more.
*Three years earlier*
I have a message on answer phone. I hold “1” and wait for it to connect me. The pre-recorded woman’s voice arranges itself.
‘You have... one... new message... sent... today.’
Her stilted monotone gives way to a man’s voice, no doubt coming from an office.
‘Hi there, this a call for Mona Anderson, it’s Dave from...’
The rest of his monologue becomes a faint chittering as I pull the phone away frommy ear.
This guy’s after someone called Mona. Pfft. He must have the wrong number. I press “7”and the pre-recorded voice cuts him off.