I had an utterly bizarre phonecall this afternoon. At around 4:15 the phone rang and I answered it. It doesn’t often ring and it surprised me a bit, but not as much as the nature of the call.
I ended up speaking to some woman with an initially indeterminate accent. It was quite a bad line, but she seemed to be asking about some advert in the Sunday Paper. We have a room to rent in this house, so I thought it was about that, but no, she was enquiring about the coconuts. Apparently we had coconuts for sale.
I was a bit stumped at this point, especially as I didn’t have any coconuts. The conversation carried on for a bit, and it started to dawn on me that the person at the other end of the line was just having some fun with me. They asked if a normal nut cracker could open a coconut. I failed to answer with a witty repost.
The confusing this was that this woman actually knew my name. I didn’t tell her what it was, so she was ringing in the hope of speaking to me! Now, I don’t mind talking about my nuts to strange women, but this one had me thinking. Very few people even know my home number – it was changed a short while ago due to an avalanche of sales calls and it’s not even my name on the bill. I’m also pretty sure that I’ve not offered any coconuts for sale in the Sunday Paper.
As the call progessed it became clear that the woman had an Australian accent. I’m not sure but she may have been faking some sort of Caribbean accent at the beginning of the call. It was a bit crap if she was. Still, it entertained and bemused me for a few minutes. Now, if only I’d offered my hairy eggs instead!