Wrong Number… Jessica Patella Doesn’t Live Here

My son, who just turned 25,  is in his third year in grad school at WVU, working on his PHD in Economics. He is so smart. He can thank me for his general intelligence, because I am quite brilliant. I just act dumb every once in a while so people won’t feel so inferior. Tis true. ( I have friends who are chuckling right now because they call me “Blondie” every frickin day).

Adam was a Math wiz.  He could tell time when he was born. His Math skills were unbelievable, really. I guess he gets that from his dad, because I ain’t too swift with math. (My fourth graders are so screwed). But, sometimes he would do something that would make me re-think this whole, “the kid’s a genius, I tell ya,” mentality. Take for example, the following story…

My husband and I were at home one evening when the phone rang. I answered it, and a voice on the other end of the phone said, “May I speak to Jessica, please.”  I replied, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”  And I hung up. It rang again. Same lady. “May I please speak to Jessica, please.”  I told her she still dialed the wrong number and I hung up again.

The phone rang a third time. “Yes, I need to talk to a Jessica Patella.”  Ok, does this woman not understand? “I’m sorry. There is no one here by that name. We have had this number for years. You have dialed the wrong number.” I hung up.  I just stood by the phone, because I just knew we weren’t done here.

It rang again. “Could you please put Jessica on the phone now. I need to talk to her.”  What the hell?  “I’m sorry, but what part of  “There is no one here by that name” do you not understand? There is no Jessica Patella at this number.” And I slammed the phone down.  Sheesh. This is getting monotonous.

My husband (now ex) is Italian and people think that if your last name starts with a P and ends in a vowel, that you can call someone pretty much whatever you want. We would get calls for Perrella, and Pallotta, and even Peluso. They don’t care. I was really getting tired of it. Plus, there was no Jessica in our household.

So, of course the phone rang again. I don’t know how many times I answered the phone. She was as pesky as a gnat.  The phone rang again. I answered it and spoke slowly. “He…l….lo?”  The lady was mad also, which I could not understand. She, after all, was the one who didn’t know who she was calling. “I need to talk to Jessica Patella right now. She called me from this number.”

“Uh, you must be mistaken. There is no Jessica Patella at this number. My daughter’s name is Alex and she is not home right now. My husband, son, and I are the only ones home.” You obviously are looking at the number incorrectly. I’m going to hang up, once again.” And I put the phone down. My husband told me not to answer the phone again.

She called seven more times, all in a row, before I couldn’t take it any longer.  I answered it. “This is the last time I am going to answer the phone. Look, lady, you have the wrong number. There is NO ONE here by the name of Jessica Patella. Okay??”

She tried to be calm, but you could tell she had a bee in her bonnet. “I’m sorry. But someone by the name of Jessica Patella called in. We have the number on caller ID. It is your number. Maybe she made up a name when she called in.”

I was so confused. “I’m sorry. And who are you, if I may ask?”

“My name is _____ ______, and I am answering the phone tonight for the pregnancy hotline.

Pregnancy hotline?  Dear God…

“A girl by the name of Jessica Patella called in from your number and I am not permitted to talk to you about what was said. I can say that the girl was clearly upset, crying and moaning on the phone.”

What the hell? “Pregnancy hotline?”  Again, what the hell?  My husband jumped up and came to stand by the phone. Pregnancy?

I was so confused because we were the only ones home, and Adam was upstairs in his room. …. With the door shut….. Oh shit. I remember Adam making up something one time for school about a patella (which is another name for a knee cap). Jessica Patella must be Adam…Great…

I asked the lady to please hold on for a second, and I called Adam downstairs.

“Adam, were you on the other line a couple of minutes ago?” He said that he was on a three-way-call-conference talking with his best friends, Evan and BethAnn.  “Adam….did you just call the pregnancy hotline and tell them your name is Jessica Patella, and ……moan and hang up?”  I knew it must have been Prank Phone-call night for the tweens. He said no. “Adam. Uh, there is such a thing nowadays as Caller ID. It came from this number.”  He was a terrible liar. He just looked at me. He knew he was dead meat.

I didn’t even know we had something like a three way conference call. I guess they were messing around and called the Pregnancy Hotline and cried and moaned and then hung up.

And then I will cry and hang up...

After I apologized to the lady and listened to her line about calling with false information, I politely told her, “Um, excuse me, we understand the severity of calling a pregnancy hotline and moaning, and we shall take care of this.” And I hung up.

I just stared at Adam. “You are soooo grounded. Go to your room.” I gave him my death stare all the way up the stairs. I mean, seriously, a pregnancy hotline?  In days of caller ID?  Adam wasn’t so smart, after all.  When he shut his bedroom door, I looked over at  my husband.

And we died laughing.