I’ve dialed a wrong number or two in my lifetime, as I’m sure everyone has. I’ve even called the wrong person by mistake when trying to reach someone else. But I can honestly say that I’ve never dialed a wrong number that turned out to be someone I knew. Or at least I hadn’t until yesterday.
I spent the first part of this week in Albany with the Chenango County Farm Bureau. It was all part of the New York Farm Bureau’s annual Lobby Days. (I promise you’ll get to read all about it between my column and a few articles this week.)
The trip was coordinated by Bradd & Rainy Vickers, who head up our county chapter of the organization. Naturally, I ended up calling them a time or two. So often, in fact, that I committed Bradd’s cell phone number to memory. Or so I thought.
The number I actually committed to memory, and at which I left several messages, actually belonged to someone else entirely. I didn’t find that out, however, until I gave the number to another member of the Chenango County contingent, Sue Evans from Evans Farmhouse Organic Creamery.
Sue tried the number and came back laughing. You see, the number didn’t belong to just any random stranger. It belonged to a guy I went to high school with. He graduated a few years before me and now lives down south. I haven’t seen or thought of him in nearly a decade. And I’m sure he hadn’t given me a thought in at least that long.
I can’t imagine what he thought when he started getting voicemails from me. Thankfully, he was a good sport. (And yes, he did actually remember who I was.) We all laughed about it afterwards, me probably more than anyone. I mean, how entirely random, right?
Sorry for all those calls, Scott. It was good talking to you.