My phone number used to belong to someone called Ms Garcia. I donβt know much about her, other than the fact that she lived in Las Vegas and a lot of people want to buy her house. On average, I receive three spam calls a day. Most are for Ms Garcia. Others are trying to sell me insurance. My favourites are the texts. Not the obvious scams β not the my dear i invite you to join my stock analysis team texts β but the long-play scams. Iβll receive a message like: Hey, my beautiful niece, when is your wedding? Or: I had fun last night, want to catch up again soon? I used to reply with a sorry wrong number, until I learned that each texter had an uncanny desire to strike up a conversation anyway.Β
Are you in Los Angeles? One man replied after I informed him that no, I was not Linda from the Rolex store. I have the opportunity to invite you to visit our companyβs architectural works and invite you to have a cup of coffee as an apology.
Every week I block multiple numbers. Every week new numbers pop up. If I accidentally answer one call, a half-dozen more follow. Offline, my mailbox fills with more junk mail than regular mail. Brochures, take-out menus, discount New Yorker subscriptions. Envelopes with pretend credit cards roll in, all with forms to fill out and the optimistic headline: Youβve been pre-approved!
I ask the mailman if he can stop delivering the junk mail β or if I should get a No Junk Mail sign. He smiles and tells me that he canβt stop, and that he ignores those signs anyway. Itβs how the post office makes its money, he said. The United States Postal Service has been operating at a loss for over a decade. Like YouTube, it needs ad revenue to survive.Β
I let the mailbox overflow with brochures. I forget to check which unknown numbers are meaningful. Architectural-Rolex guy messages me: Honey, did you have a good day? alongside a picture of his dinner. I canβt help but reply.
Looks yum! Add more leafy greens next time.Β
He asks what I am having for dinner, then what I do for work. I tell him that Iβm a meteorologist who provides long-term forecasts for construction projects. He asks me to send a photo of my dinner. I tell him I can help him better understand how El NiΓ±o will affect construction costs, say Hey, youβre an architect, right? then tell him I can cut him a good deal if he gets me on the ground early. He asks if I have started cooking yet, then tells me his name is Kevin. I tell him my name is Kevin too omg??, and that us Kevins need to stick together, say something about this run-in being fate, that he should really think about hiring my services.
He says, Ok Kevin, nice to meet you. I look forward to your sharing your dinner and showing me your cooking. π
I grow bored and stop texting Kevin back. He never gets to the scam part: thatβs my own projection. I donβt know why he wants to see my dinner: location data? A neat segue into adding me to his HelloFreshβ’ MLM? Iβve never gotten far enough into these wrong-number texts to find out what the scam is. Perhaps they are genuine: lonely people reaching toward connection.Β
One man texts How you doing love, then replies to my wrong number with a photo of his face, as though that were enough to make the number right. A woman adds me to her family group chat twice, reminds me that Braxton loves dinosaurs. Another woman called Brittany replies Sorry I entered the wrong number, I think itβs a beautiful misunderstanding, I hope you have a beautiful day, meeting you is fate, I hope I didnβt disturb you.
Itβs been over a month since Iβve texted Kevin. Still, every now and again he checks in with a polite Hi, what did you do for dinner? π