Life Lessons for Pistachio: Don't be a Phone Stalker

On Sunday afternoon, Joshua and I were in the car talking about a certain creep totally lacking in any social graces. This particular creep happens to be the subject of many of our conversations and often said conversations end with one of us saying, “What an [INSERT UGLY AND/OR PROFANE NAME].” During the latest conversation, we wondered out loud: How do tiny little babies evolve into such cretins? Do their parents wholly fail to instruct them about common courtesy? Do they just “come by it honestly” as we say in Creek County? In short, is social retardation nature or nurture?

Although I will not begin to speculate about whether Pistachio comes by his or her future jerkiness honestly (after all, his mother is a lawyer), I believe I can say with confidence that we will do everything possible to instill in Pistachio a few manners in the fleeting hopes that one day he or she will behave with some level of decorum and/or social grace. Today is a Monday at my office, and I am already prepared to offer Pistachio his or her first life lesson in manners: Don’t be a phone stalker.

During my life, I have had my fair share of phone stalkers. I remember one quite vividly: I was in the 6th grade. He went to a local charismatic mega-church. His name sounded like a sneeze. His name was supposedly biblical-You know, one of those names that appears one (1) time in some long list in Judges in the Holy Reformed King Charles Spaniel Unified Revised Canadian Charismatic Version of the text? Although his mother may have believed his name was rooted in the Holy Word, I maintain its origin rested soundly in a sinus infection. I used to imagine the nurse standing over his mother in the delivery room. “What name will be given to this child?” she asked. His mother sneezed, and it stuck like…..well, I digress. This particular phone stalker decided he liked me, and he called my parents’ home telephone number at least twenty-five (25) times in two (2) hours. Each time, he had nothing new to report. He just wanted to see “what was going on.” I loathed him after about two (2) hours and one (1) minute. My feelings were so strong that even as I started writing this column, I shuddered and then laughed at his expense…fourteen (14) years later. The sad thing, however, is that he really was a genuinely nice young man, but after all those phone calls, the recipient thinks you are either a total stalker or moderately retarded. I suspect he was a little of both. Regardless, neither seems conducive to making a good impression on girl.

On my way to adulthood, I encountered several phone stalkers. Many seized upon modern technology (i.e. text messages, instant messages, e-mail) to compound the level of contact with me. I even had one creeper that saved all my e-mails and instant message conversations with him, particularly the last ones when I was telling him rather emphatically never to call me again. When I became a professional, I discovered that physical maturity does not necessarily weed out the teenage phone stalkers. In a professional setting, however, they up their game. First, whenever they call, it is ALWAYS an emergency, and they must speak with me directly. They are distrustful of my assistant, because after all, I admittedly do not return each and every one (1) of the thirteen (13) calls they placed to my office yesterday. It must be that she is failing to give me the message. It certainly could not be that I am absolutely not interested in hearing about how your former spouse sent you a “mean” text message about your dog after you told her that her cat looked overweight. A phone stalker never truly needs a lawyer. They need a baby-sitter.

During a moment of total stupidity on my part, I once gave a potential phone stalker (not a client, mind you) my mobile telephone number. He called me seven (7) times on Sunday afternoon to tell me that his child was throwing up at a local amusement park, and he wanted to know if I was going to hold the child’s mother accountable for his physical condition. The child ate two (2) baskets of chili cheese nachos and an entire package of cotton candy before jumping on a roller coaster in 100 degree temperatures, but phone stalker thought mom was to blame for a little upset stomach. Frankly, if the child eats all that garbage before hopping on an amusement ride, he sounds just like a chip off the old block, as we say in Creek County. Give him a few years….he’ll be calling me every fifteen (15) minutes after his baby mama gets a protective order against him for stalking. He will become one of those folks that appear on the Caller ID, and I literally cringe.

I was watching The Office last night on my laptop, and in this particular episode, Michael Scott gives his assistant, Pam, a list of excuses to give people if they call him. For example, “I’m sorry Michael can’t come to the phone. He’s at a Civil Rights Rally” or “Michael isn’t available. He’s having a colonoscopy.” I am thinking about starting my own list for phone stalkers, a list of items that might make the phone stalker feel as uncomfortable and/or astonished as I feel while on the line with them: “I’m sorry Lauren isn’t available. Her goldfish died last night, and she is taking a bereavement day.” Perhaps, “I’m sorry, Lauren is out of the office today for her annual pap smear” or “I’m sorry, Lauren had a nervous breakdown and lost her ability to hear last night because of all the stupid people that called yesterday. If you have a message for her, submit same in Braille.”

So, Pistachio, one (1) call per day is acceptable. If the call is romantic in nature and you end up being a girl, never, ever call him first. If you call, you need not text, e-mail, and IM as well, and if I catch you, I’m taking your phone away. It’s for your own good. Your mother does not want you to be a social moron.

Ok, life lesson over…..My phone is ringing. And I just got a text. Creeper.