An Open Letter to the Woman Who Thinks She Has my Phone Number

Dear Bonnie Schmidt,

You seem to think your phone number is my phone number. I can understand this because I have a very nice phone number. In fact, I like my phone number very much, and I have bonded with it very much over the past four years I’ve had it.

Unfortunately, I can’t share it though. You seem like a very nice lady who has lots of friends (and some debt, nonetheless), but you can’t use the same phone number as someone else. That’s just not how it works. You get one phone number per person, and they have to be different. You know, like snowflakes. Bonnie, you need to find a new snowflake.

Although I’ve never met you, I know you quite well. I know you are a person very much in demand, by people all over the country. I know you visited Las Vegas last summer because you left your shoes at the hotel. I know you rented a U-Haul from Pittsburgh this spring because they wanted you to rate your experience (Bonnie! How are they going to know if your experience with U-Haul was a 4 or an 8??). I know your cable bill is due the third of every month because they oh-so generously call me to notify me your bill is always late (Maybe if they had the right phone number, this service would benefit you).

However, I do need to thank you for bringing so many friends into my life, like drunken guys calling at 9 AM and the credit card companies urging me to pay bills. I have been introduced to many interesting individuals thanks to your deliberate or non-deliberate phone number mix-up.

In fact, I wish my phone number was your phone number, because then I could reach you and let you know that girl, you need to get your life together, and maybe start making your 7’s look more like 7’s and less like 1’s.

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