The Misadventures of Ms. Peepers

Ms. Peepers

Ms. Peepers
Location
Virginia,
Birthday
October 08
Bio
Knitter, belly dancer, aspiring writer. I'll use this space to practice writing whatever takes my fancy. I welcome constructive feedback!

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Salon.com
OCTOBER 1, 2010 11:10AM

Bluestocking Babe’s Open Call – The Pocket-Dial Diaries

Rate: 3 Flag

Kath (at the gay bar): Phil, how did you know I where to find me?

Phil: You butt-dialed me with your cell phone and I heard a 6-minute remix of “Dancing Queen.”

Kath and Kim*

~~~~

Last year, Mr. Peepers worked an early shift, so he would kiss me goodbye around 5am, at which point I would wake up just a tiny bit and mumble, “Ilfyougday.”** On one of these mornings, shortly after he left, the phone rang, which I answered in a mostly asleep state.  It was a hang up, though, so I went back to sleep.  A few moments later, the phone rang again; I picked up – nothing.  I noted it as odd and went back to sleep.  Then it happened again.  By this point, still not fully awake, I was starting to get a little freaked out; it was morning but still dark and I was alone in the house.  Having been to sleepovers in my youth, I’d heard the story about the crank caller who turned out to be a serial killer calling from another room in the house, and I began to worry, especially when the phone rang a 4th, 5th, and 6th time.

                In the light of day, I realized what must have happened – Mr. Peepers’ phone at that time was famous for the pocket dial – but he insisted that his phone had not called me.  I got caught up in the mystery; I’m not one to be concerned about a single hang up, but six in a row could mean a stalker or crazy person.  Would we have to change our number?  Was it someone we knew?  Maybe it was some lovelorn woman who wanted me to think Mr. Peepers was having an affair!  That evening, Mr. Peepers checked his cell phone for calls missed while he was at work.  “Oh, hey, bebe, looks like I called you six times this morning.  That’s odd.”

~~~~

                Once at work, my dad (Papa Peepers) called a colleague and left a message on his voice mail.  Papa Peepers had just gotten a new headset and knew that he just had to hit the “hang up” button to end the call.  So he did this and opened an email, which annoyed him to the point of muttering “what an a$$hole” before writing back.  That afternoon, the voice mail colleague called him back and said, “Hey, Papa Peepers, I’ve got that answer for you.  By the way, did I upset you in some way?”  Yep, the headset wasn’t installed properly and the hang up button had not quite done its job.

~~~~

                Here’s an email story.  Several years ago I worked at a brokerage firm processing securities paperwork that needed client signatures.  One item required the client to sign two different documents, which came in separately with different signatures of the same name.  When I called the broker’s assistant about the “discrepancy,” she said that they were the signed by the same person and that she would fax a document with various signatures that he had done in various stages of haste.  Hm.  Anyway, the document arrived with four signatures, none of which matched the two I already had.  So I called her on it.  Shortly after, I received an email meant for a colleague in her office that said, “Hey, Paula, did you sign John’s name for him on this or did I?”

                Epilogue for the ethically inclined: I did forward this correspondence to my manager and our compliance department, but I never found out what happened.  That said, I can’t say I ever talked to that particular associate again.

                Moral for the children: If you really must complete an illegal action, maybe you shouldn’t put it in an email.  Bonus moral, to quote a friend’s mother: “Don’t ever let me catch you stealing less than you can retire on.”

The names were changed in this story to protect the careless.

~~~~

Here is the original OC: http://open.salon.com/blog/bluestocking_babe/2010/09/23/the_pocket-dial_diaries_an_open_call.

While I was typing this, my cat Mr. Blue (otherwise known as Kitty Peepers) jumped on my keyboard and started backspacing.  Everyone’s a critic.  At least Mrs. Pickles (Pickle Peepers) waits until I print my stories to chew on them.

~~~~

*This is not an exact quotation as the interwebs failed me and I had to go by memory.  Corrections welcome.

**I love you, have a good day.

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Comments

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This was funny about the illegal doings in an email.:)
Rated with hugs
Thanks, Linda! I usually write fiction, but every word of this post is true (unfortunately).
That's awesome, Kate. Mr. Peepers does have a habit of butt dialing my cell phone and leaving long messages when I don't pick up. He sings along with the radio in the car. Haven't heard a conversation with self though - that would be a VM worth saving. Forever. :)
Ms. Peepers, sorry it took me so long to get to this, and thanks for responding to my open call! This is a great example of how people don't use common sense with electronic communication. I sent an erroneous email once to a landlord. I won't go into the details, but it was supposed to go to my roomate. We didn't have the money for rent, so we were trying to come up with a plan to stall the landlord. Long story short--he got the message instead of my room mate. I am much more careful now.