When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take
it
out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on
someone you don't know.
Years ago, I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd
forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered,
saying
"Hello."
I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn
Carter?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right f***ing
number!"and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that
anyone
could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call
her,
I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an asshole!" and
hung
up. I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put
it
in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or
had a
really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!"
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced in Virginia, I thought my therapeutic
'asshole' calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said,
"Hi,
this is John Smith from Bell Atlantic. I'm calling to see if you're
familiar
with our new Caller ID Program?"
He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back
and
said, "That's because you're an asshole!" and hung up.
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot.
Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had
patiently
waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that
spot,
but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back
window, so
I wrote down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had
his
number on speed dial,) I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole,
too.
I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
He said, "Yes, it is." I asked, "Can you tell me where I can see it?"
He said, "Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax. The car's parked
right
out in front."
I asked, "What's your name?"
He said, "My name is Don Hansen,"
I asked, "When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
He said, "I'm home every evening after five."
I said, "Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
He said, "Yes?"
I said, "Don, you're an asshole!"
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when
I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.
Then I came up with an idea. I called asshole #1.
He said, "Hello."
I said, "You're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.) He asked, "Are you
still there?"
I said, "Yeah,"
He screamed, "Stop calling me,"
I said, "Make me,"
He asked, "Who are you?"
I said, "My name is Don Hansen."
He said, "Yeah? Where do you live?"
I said, "Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax. I have a
black Beamer parked in front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start
saying
your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole," and hung up.
Then I called Asshole #2.
He said, "Hello?"
I said, "Hello, asshole,"
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
I said, "You'll what?"
He exclaimed, "I'll kick your ass,"
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right
now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived
at 34
Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, and that I was on my way over there to kill
my gay
lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree
Blvd.
in Fairfax.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just
in
time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front
of
six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news
crew.
NOW I feel much better.
Anger management really does work!
