Let me preface this true tale with the following facts: I scored over 1100 on my SATs, I’m a college graduate, and I once ran a well-oiled corporate machine of an Art Department – somewhat impressive resume, no? I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but not the dullest either. I also like to consider myself a trusting person – eager to find the good in all intentions.
Some might call that naive.
I believe the technical term that dear Hubby uses is Sucker.
So the phone rings – it’s a number I don’t recognize (386-736-8732 for the record, in case the police need to know. I dialed it back by the way – it’s a disconnected line. Nice.), but the city is in Florida. All sorts of scary thoughts flash through my head – my parents live in Florida. Surely they’ve been in a head-on collision, and some EMT found me referenced as their ICE on the cell phone number list.
Nope, recorded line – “We have been trying to reach you with important car warranty information. This is the last time we will try to contact you. Press 1 to speak to a representative about the recall information. Press 2 to be permanently deleted from our records.”
Permanently deleted?! Hell no. I’m so not pressing 2.
Now mind you, I know there is a voluntary recall out on my SUV. We have yet to receive information, which is actually making me quite aggravated with GMC, but you can see why I thought this might be legit. Right?
I can hear my husband in my ear – “hang up the damn phone!” Yet, I do not. Here I go, in slow motion, pressing 1.
A somewhat quick, but pleasant sounding woman comes on the line. “Please tell me the make and model of your vehicle so that I can look up the information.” Sounds nice enough – she must be trustworthy, right?
Here’s the kicker – I tell her!!!
Then I hear this … click.
Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t give out personal information. Hang up on marketing calls. What was I thinking!?
First scenario: (picture a GPS sequence on “24″). Right now, a chop shop is zeroing in on my garage thanks to Google Maps, and it’s only a matter of time before the flatbed shows up out front with masked thugs jumping out of the cab, guns blazing, here to steal my beloved Yukon.
Second scenario: A car jacking is in my near future.
Third scenario: I just gave my phone number to some terrorist who at this moment is using it to place an untraceable call to Osama bin Laden (and now that I had to Google his name to get the correct spelling, I’m going down on counts of conspiracy and treason for sure).
I jest, but it’s that nervous laughter. I actually called Verizon to place a watch notice on our account. I’m sure sweet, understanding Nick will have a couple of good laughs over beers tonight at my expense.
And in case the authorities are reading this, please tell my husband he was right (that should comfort him in his grief), and that I’m truly sorry he married an idiot.
