Lou Pickney's Online Commentary
The Message
Friday
April 12, 2002
"I'm a gecko, not to be confused with Geiko, which can save you thousands on car insurance. So stop calling me!"
-Geico Insurance TV commercial, circa 2000
"It's all your fault I screen my phone calls..."
-No Doubt "Spiderwebs"
It's been one of those weeks. Make no mistake, strep throat sucks. I found out last night that my brother Matt also has strep throat. Tough way for him to go into the weekend of his 21st birthday, for sure.
But there is something to be excited about: the return trip to Huntington is booked for two weeks from now. It's been more than a year since I moved down to Tampa, and it'll be nice to see some of my old crew up there.
If you read my March 30th commentary, you read about the party at Bar Tampa from two weeks ago. Now I don't like to talk about the girls I meet and date and what not on here, but I mentioned the story of meeting Juli at Bar Tampa because it was such an unusual situation.
Anyway, I'm a busy man, so I didn't get around to calling Juli till the following Wednesday night on my drive in to work. Ring, ring, ring, ring etc. No answer, no machine. No biggie, it was a low priority. My parents were in town, and I had the big trip to Mississippi, etc. in the works.
So following the Mississippi adventure, and the strep throat haze, the following Tuesday night I called Juli up. Ring, ring, answer---Click. One of those pick up the phone and hang it up deals. I thought: maybe it was a mistake. Wait two minutes, call back. Ring, ring, answer---Click. That was no mistake, not twice in a row. But I took some more Robitussin-DM and went back into a state of semi-consciousness.
I waited another two days, and then last night, Thursday night, I figured okay, one more try. I wanted to at least find out what was up with those hangups. I called from my house line this time, where "L Pickney" pops up on the caller ID, not "wireless". Ring, ring, ring, no answer, no machine. So from there I grabbed my cell phone and went out to my patio, where I talked with a bunch of friends via cell and watched the rain fall lightly on a warm Tampa night. Very nice. There are so many little things about living in Tampa that are wonderful, like being able to enjoy an early April evening on the porch without freezing. It should be noted that I did this in lieu of watching Survivor, which is a topic for another time.
As 9 PM approached, I came back inside... and saw the light blinking on my answering machine. I had left my patio door open a crack, but I hadn't heard the house phone ring. So I went to the machine and hit play. And what did I hear but this:
"Hi, this is Juli. Please stop calling me. Please, my husband is back with me. I want things to work out. Please stop calling my house. Thank you."
Her husband?!?!?! Now what am I supposed to think when I hear something like that? I mean really. When I talked with Juli at Bar Tampa, she had told me she went to the University of Wisconsin and that she'd worked at the ABC affiliate there in college and that she was interested in getting back in the business. I told her that they weren't hiring at Channel 10 right now, but that I'd see what I could find out, and that I'd like to talk with her again sometime. So we exchanged numbers. She didn't mention any husband. She most definitely didn't have a rock (engagement/wedding ring) -- I learned my sophomore year of college to always check for that first. But like Jeannie mentioned to me at work this morning when I relayed this story to her, sometimes women take off the ring before they go out and hit the bars.
It would've been one thing if I had actually talked with Juli on the phone or on a machine or voice mail at some point before. But her reaction, based on zero communication, was surprising to say the least. What if I had been calling to offer her a 6-figure salary as head of some department at 10 News? Women are insane.
This brings up a whole different issue -- Caller ID. My, how that has changed the dynamics of telephone communication. I finally joined the world of Caller ID in December 1999 when I moved to Huntington. It's nice to know who's called when I've been out, even if they didn't trouble to leave a message. Or if it's the goddamn St. Pete Times calling for the 80 billionth time to hassle me for a subscription (though 99% of telemarketers come up as "unlisted" or "unavailable"). But think about the ramifications of Caller ID in a case like this. Communication without communication. Or something like that. I know some people who refuse to get Caller ID, not because of the cost, but because they like a surprise when they answer the phone. Me, I'm just trying to keep up in this land of jumped conclusions.
The NFL Draft is the weekend after next. I've been working on a mock draft, but those things are tough to keep up-to-date. Think you've got it figured out, and then Kansas City signs WR Johnnie Morton to a long-term deal and you have to re-do your entire board. But that's part of the fun, gotta jump in some time and take some guesses...
|
