An Open Letter to Patricia
(The Lady Who Had My Phone Number Before Me)
Dear Patricia,
Did you write your phone number on a bathroom stall somewhere? Give your number to a Nigerian prince? Share it on Craigslist? Try to claim a free Wal-Mart gift card you allegedly won after clicking a fishy link? Did a scorned ex-lover put your number on a billboard by the side of the world’s busiest highway? Patricia, what the fuck?
I’ve had this number for the past seven years. Since then, I’ve received solicitous calls on a frequent — albeit varied — basis. Sometimes weeks go by and I don’t get so much as a call from fake ComEd. Other times, like in the past two weeks or so, I get multiple calls a day. And all of them ask for you, Patricia.
You might be wondering why I don’t just change my number, as you evidently did. That’s a good question, Patricia, and it’s one that I’ve turned over in my mind for many years. At this point, however, it’s just too late. I’ve applied to numerous jobs with this number. Every financial, medical, and educational institution I’ve done business with has this number. My exes drunkenly dial this number. And so does every fake PC security software dealer on this planet, apparently. I’M TYPING THIS ON A MAC, PATRICIA! A MAC!!!
Now, maybe this isn’t your fault. Perhaps you told your carrier that you were changing this number because of the immense amount of spam it receives, and they failed to pass that knowledge on to me. Maybe you are the victim of a terrible prank. I’ve considered it, but I don’t really know. What I do know, Patricia, is that every time someone from the nameless “credit card company” calls my number, they’re looking for you. One of them even called you/me “beautiful.” What kinds of people are you dealing with, Patricia?
You’ve haunted me for the past seven years. You are the unconcerned (and in-demand) ghost of this number. For fuck’s sake, Patricia. Be careful with whatever number you have now, lest its next owner fall prey to the same fate as I.
And with that, I bid you farewell, knowing that I will hear your name many, many, many more times. Screw you, Patricia.
As the people on the other end know me,
“There is no Patricia at this number.”
