Human Stupidity: An Example

Part of my official policy re: workplace relationships is "the less info, the better." So when my new coworkers ask where I'm living after relocating to town, my stock response is to cite a particular bridge well known for its extensive and diverse homeless population. The reality is, though, that I'm renting a room from a longtime college friend.

Now, said college friend has her own set of quirky sensibilities that lead to some rather interesting behaviors at times, one of which is that when the yard man whacked the telephone wires on the side of the house with a WeedEater(tm)-brand lawn trimmer, she left her home phone in a non-working state for some nine months while continuing to pay her home phone bill. Too lazy to call the phone company to come fix it—and precious little incentive in that direction when her overly generous employer pays for all her personal cell calls.

Being the good roomie that I am, though, a couple of weeks ago I pulled out a screwdriver and the wire strippers (my very least favorite kind of stripper) and reconnected the phone line. Total time investment: 4 minutes. Money paid to phone company for nine months of non-existent phone service: $576. Stupidity of homeowner: Priceless.

However, the downside of reconnecting the phone is that, well, now it has this annoying habit of ringing—and of course we know in advance that it can't be anyone she actually knows, since all friends have long since abandoned use of the dead-end landline number and simply call her cell. What to do when every call you receive is a telephone solicitation? (I should point out at this point that the brilliantly designed Chinese-made phone she owns has no "ringer off" setting, since apparently phones are so new in rural China that people haven't yet imagined a scenario in which they would not want the phone to ring.)

I struggled with the ringer dilemma for a more than a week—but then a few days ago I impulsively decided to try a new tack. Rather than ignoring the phone, which seems to only cause it to ring again an hour later, presumably with the same persistent party on the other end, I now answer the phone and say hello. The person on the other end then proceeds to identify himself or herself as representing some widget distributor or timeshare company or police charitable organization du jour. My response is, "I'm sorry, you've reached a non-working telephone number," followed by silence.

Number of calls so far: 12. Number of people who've said, "I'm sorry," and hung up: 12. A front-row seat for the parade of human stupidity: Priceless.