So I ring up this guy I know because he's selling his car and my one's so old the St Christopher badge is autographed, and I get one of those answering machines which I really *hate* because it always mutilates the messages and IF he ever rings back he's usually looking for Mr KDJMSHNMUMMUMM, about the 4 leafed foliage wintering, so this time i just say "SIMON" and my phone number, over and over again till the machine hangs up on me.
Then I go out and put my answering machine on.
A couple of hours later I get home and the little light on the machine is flashing, which either means I've got a message, the power's been off or a multitude of other warnings that I haven't been able to decipher as the manual was written specifically for an english speaking Korean person. In other words "Congratulations buying reliable unit of operation. Placing unit please on marked side A and rewind operation.." etc etc. It mentions something about atomic battery and fatality, but to get it translated costs about $25.00 a page, and I figure I'd rather live in ignorance.
Anyway, I press the "PLAY" button, and I start listening to the messages, but because I've got one of those cheap 1 tape models, all the messages end up joining together, so I get things like "..and if you'd like to come over later for some good, hot sex without lubricant, call me back as soon as you get in on five five five three.. *CSSSST!* HI SIMON! DAVE HERE! NOTHING TO SAY REALLY, JUST RUNG TO KEEP IN TOUCH, CALL ME BACK SOMETIME, BYE" which really pisses me off, because then I have to dial the 999 numbers to see if I can find my true anonymous love. AND, DAVE never leaves his number so I can phone him back and arrange a quiet meeting down at the waterfront, just him, me, a peice of chain and all the cement blocks I can lay my hands on.
And the machine doesn't like "Call-Waiting" either. Obviously one of the internal dip-switches has what the action should be on receiving a call- waiting signal, and at the moment it's set to "Shit yourself and drop the call coming in", so I get "Hi Simon, you never called me back about that hard sex without lubricant, so I'm giving you one more chance, call me back on five-five.. *BEEP!* *BEEP!* *BEEP!* HI SIMON, DAVE AGAIN! THINK YOU BETTER GET YOUR MACHINE LOOKED AT - IT TOOK AGES TO ANSWER THE PHONE, IT SOUNDED LIKE IT WAS ENGAGED OR SOMETHING, BUT NO WORRIES. ANYWAY, RUNNING OUT OF TIME, CALL ME SOMETIME BYE"
Of course I've done all the good things, like change my message to: "Hi, You've reached the home of SimonT. If your name is Dave, piss off and never call me again, otherwise, leave the details after the beep" so that I get "..and you'd better bring a bottle of oxygen for the afterplay, just call on.. *BEEP!* *BEEP!* *BEEP!* HI SIMON, DAVE HERE, GREAT JOKE MAN! UM CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT I WAS RINGING ABOUT..." etc.
So I figure I'll get a more expensive answerphone. With voice recognition and the programmable peizo screamer that makes the callers ears bleed.... And I go down to the phone shop - It AMAZES me that there's a shop that ONLY sells phones - what's the world coming to - and how can they afford to run the place without ripping off customers? I look at a couple of price tags and figure it out for myself - they don't.
I ask to see their answering machines, but the guy says Sorry, it's a phone shop, they don't deal in other stuff. I ask him if they've got a phone with an answering machine in it, so he says he'll look out back.
10 years later he emerges from the back with this shitty plastic thing that was obviously made in the novelty phone era - it's a football phone and it's fucking *huge*. It's not even life size, it's TWICE life size. And always, when you get a novelty phone, the fucking thing NEVER, *EVER* fits your head like a real phone. The mouthpeice is always twisted off at an angle and has an empty moulded cavity right next to the mike so it sounds like you're calling from the middle of a shit filled sewer in Chinatown.
So I buy it, cos it's on special, only $287.00 plus tax, and I get it home and realise it's got NO answerphone in it. I take the thing back, and the guy tells me that it's my responsibility to check that everything's there before I leave the store, because as far as he knows I could have gone to my car and ripped out the answerphone in it. I tell him there wasn't one in it, and there never was one, AND THERE NEVER COULD BE ONE IN IT - IT'S NOT AN ANSWERPHONE - AND WHY DID HE SELL IT TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE? He says he doesn't know, and he'll ask his supervisor.
10 years later his supervisor comes out, and says he doesn't know either, but perhaps we can come to some arrangement. And his voice sounds kinda familiar - you know, like you remember your teachers voice from when you were 5 - but not familiar for that reason. Anyway, this bastard farts about a bit, and goes thru the motions, and says that while they're not an answering machine shop - they just sell phones - and while they can't take back the footy fone, they might - JUST MIGHT, be able to sell me a new one-tape answering machine that they have left over from when they were an answering machine shop and never used to sell phones. THEN I REMEMBER WHERE I HEARD HIS VOICE - He sold me my last one tape machine - and I consider - just for a second - kicking him in the nuts for old times sake. But then I think maybe that's not the only place I heard his voice. What the hell, I tell him about the old machine, and he says that since they're not an answering machine shop any more, they can't fix or replace my old answerphone, besides, the warranty expired 2 seconds after I bought it. So what the hell, I *HAVE* to get this call, so I buy the last model, on the understanding that this is not an answering phone shop and I can't bring it back because they don't sell them.
I get the thing home, and plug the answering phone in, and put the footy fone into the back of it, then think the better of it - My friends are guaranteed to come round, have a few drinks and kick the shit out of it, even though I told them a HUNDRED times it's a phone, not a football.
I switch it on and wait.
Nothing happens.
Then I realise what I have to do. I wind the ring volume up real loud and go for a walk down the drive, and a couple of houses away. The phone rings. I SPRINT BACK home and get to the door just as I hear "..your very last chance, just call.. *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* DAVE HERE MATE, FROM THE PHONE SHOP - JUST CALLED TO SEE HOW IT WAS GOING, EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOT UNDER WARRANTY AND EVERYTHING, THAT'S ALL REALLY, BYE!"
THAT'S WHERE I HEARD HIS VOICE!
.. ...
So now I'm doing 10-20 in the slammer - apparantly footy fones aren't on the list of approved suppositories - I got 6 months off for killing DAVE (The judge had a one taper too) but the AMA prosecutes impromptu medical practicioners real hard....
So if anyone's looking for a couple of one-tape answering machines or a slightly soiled footy-fone, just givvus a call, or if I'm not in my cell just leave a message.. With my cellmate - he forgets everything, but at least this way I don't hope.