Ring! Ring! Cheapskate Playa Gets Called Out
Being a bit of dectective, and sort of a confrontational girl to boot, I decided to call some of the people who had been receiving calls and returning calls to my phone. I soon discovered that someone by the nickname of "Boo" had been using my phone, and that he'd been calling mostly girls, all of whom sounded about my age.
I took it upon myself to inform them all (17 of them) that if Boo could not afford his own phone, he could not afford to be talking to so many women--and by the way, he talked to one such woman for 120 minutes at 3 am on Thursday night. Oh, and by the way, I told all but one that "that woman was not you".
Within 15 minutes of chatting with Boo's "friends", I made the acquaintance of Deedee, with whom Boo had logged the most phone hours and who was, as she put it, "supposed to be Boo's main girl." She had suspected that something was going on, but trusted him. She's 23, has a young son, is "too pretty to get played" and is going to school to be a nurse. Boo is going to school to get is GED.
We talked for about an hour about everything-- and she might just be my new best friend. I decided to give Deedee the numbers that stood out--the numbers he'd talked to really late at night, the numbers he'd talked to many times, and the numbers he'd talked to the longest. She swore she'd call him soon with an update.
Soon, a man called me on a private number. He claimed not to be Boo, but to know him. Without getting too angry, he let me know that it was totally reasonable to expect that a lost phone will get hours rung up on it. "If you find a phone," he reasoned with me, "What are you supposed to do, throw it away?" He asked me to stop ruining his life. I explained to him overages cost 35 cents a minute, that I work with Autistic kids for godssake, that sometimes our actions have consequences, and this was not my problem anymore. "DEEDEE," I yelled into the phone, "IS TOO PRETTY TO GET PLAYED, BITCH!"
Shockingly, he didn't call back. Maybe, for once, one of my little lectures hit home. Ay me, Ira Glass, where is my phone tap when I need it? Also, I need all of your phone number again.