Stop Calling, Stop Calling. I Ain’t Tryna Talk Anymore.

My phone doesn’t ring often these days. The few times it does it’s always one of two factions of people: bill collectors or a friend/relative asking to borrow more money. Either way, vultures waiting to pick away at my dwindling remains circle overhead everyday. Their calls & voicemails, shadows creeping around my path like Nosferatu.

I usually keep my phone on silent, letting the calls rollover to voicemail and delete the messages without listening to them. But I was in a different mindset today.

I was deep into an intense game of Spider Solitaire on a cardgame app when a familiar 419 number popped up on the screen, one I affectionately named “Shart Waffle”.  The conversation went a little something like this:

Me: Hello?

SW: Hi, may I speak to-

Me: What can I do for you?

SW: Well, I’m calling in regards to your de-

Me: I have NO money AT ALL. Zilch. No amount of calls you make to me is going to change that fact. Unless you’re calling to give me winning lottery numbers, you’re wasting both of our time.

SW: Sir-

Me: Actually since I have no money, all I have is time. Time is supposedly money and you’ve been wasting my damn time so technically….you owe me.

SW:

Me:

SW: I’m just trying to do my job, Sir.

Me: Okay, I admit that was stupid. But so is this whole situation. Y’all call me every goddamn day, even when I’ve asked you to stop, because I literally do not have what you’re asking for. Under any other circumstance this would be considered harassment. But you’re getting paid to do it so it’s just a job, right?

SW: I don’t appreciate how you’re speaking to me.

Me: You’re nothing more than a hired goon with a headset. *click*

While typing this post, Shart Waffle popped up on my screen again. I guess my message wasn’t well received around the office.

Maybe I’ll tell them I’m dead next time.

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