The Caller ID said "cell phone."
The phone rings.
Wife: "No. That's the third time today. It's been happening all week."
I hate when the madame of the local brothel just calls and hangs up.
Jesus, woman...you have my Visa number.
WHY MUST YOU STALK ME?!?
Maybe it's not her.
The phone rings again.
Caller ID: Cell Phone
This time...there are people talking.
They're on speaker phone.
We sat there listening with our phone also on speaker...trying to figure out who this asshole was.
The call was all broken up. But we could tell it was a guy and some woman talking.
Me: "Is that Rob?"
If it was Rob, we'd probably be listening to some weird threesome or orgy or some male experimentation with anal beads.
I was jealous of Rob...
...up until that last point.
We listened for five minutes, until I heard the guy say:
"..this one has all the same features..."
My daughter, Payton.
This was her fault.
I'm in the middle of switching jobs. My old job provided me my own cell phone.
My new job does not.
On Sunday, I took Payton to the Verizon store to get a new one.
(Verizon Store Motto: "Can you wait an hour? Good.")
About 45 minutes into our wait for the next available Sales Representative making minimum wage...
...I noticed that Payton was playing with the cell phones on display.
Deftly entering our phone number into their memories.
This is going to go on 7 days a week until the store f*cking closes.
I need to call Verizon and have them wipe the numbers out of the phones.
But I might let them keep my in-laws' number in them...
...because Payton entered that one, too.