Wrong numbers

This one actually happened a while back, but I’ve not had the chance to write about it, inbetween doing nothing and going on holiday, I’ve not had the time.

I was in the house, watching TV when the landline went, which is fairly unusual in it’s own right, it’s mostly wrong numbers I get anyways – the reason being that my last 4 digits are very close to the local car garage . I picked up the phone and some ditsy dopey woman started yapping.

Woman: Hiiiiii <about three seconds> is that <NAME> garage?

Me (feeling annoyed): Yes, love. It is.

Woman: Hiiiiii. I wanna boooooook me car in for a quick seeeeervice and an MOT

Me: Ok, when?

Woman: Oooohhhh. Can ye do Tuesdeee, abar haarrrf nine?

Me: We open at 9am, so if you can get in here as early as possible, I’ll make sure it’s done by lunch time for you.

Woman: Arrrh luv dats great, ‘al gerrit in fer abar 9 then

Me: Ok, see you then.


I didn’t ask for her name, number or car make. Seriously. And she sounded like she needed a wash.

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