Dear dimwit on the phone

You've been posting on this board for this long only to reveal it was all part of a long con.

 

One thing I've started doing is a small breakout graphic at the end of each preview telling what sport will appear in the next edition. Hopefully readers understand we'll hit each of the sports for the season -- and no, cheerleading is not a sport.

And what part of the country are you in that they've already started playing? We don't hit daily doubles for another week and a half here in Oregon.

 

Great moment in DDOTP history yesterday (names changed to protect the innocent):

"Sports, HanSen"

"Yes, this Joe Shlabotnik the Eagles just signed, did he go to Springfield?"

"Don't know off the top of my head, sir, let me Google up the Eagles' home page ... checking the roster ... no, it says he's from Shelbyville."

"OK, while you're Googling someone up, can you look up Jane Jones?"

"Who's she, sir?"

"She's one of my exes, I heard she was back in town and ..."

"Sir, you'll have to look that one up yourself. Have a nice day."

(click)

 

I shot a bunch of National Night Out parties last week all over town. The photo we ran with the story had a teenage boy in it.

So Monday I get a call asking if I could tell him the location where that photo was taken. I ask him why, he just says "BECAUSE I WANT IT!" Screaming in my ear. I tell him I don't remember because I went to so many places (white lie), and he asks if I can look it up. At this point, I'm just trying to get him off the damn phone. I tell him that I'd have to dig through my email and I don't have the time. He says, "Well, I can wait."

Me: "Well, why do you want this?"
Him: "Everyone else has this information, why can't you give it to me! It's public information!" (No it isn't)
Me: "Sir, sorry, I don't remember and I've got another call coming in. Bye." (Click)

Two minutes later, phone rings. I let it go to voicemail, and it's just him breathing for a few seconds, then hanging up. He calls back five minutes later. I'm waiting for a few other calls, so I figure I might as well answer it, hoping it's someone I need to talk to.

Me: "Podunk Press, this is CAJourno."
Him: "Why did you hang up on me?"
Me: "Sir. I can't give you that information."
Him: "The hell you can't!"

I transferred him up to my editor after that, and he went through the same process. The guy was just flat out creepy. Editor told him to call City Hall.

 

That's f'd up.

 

Sorry, I've been meaning to take your number away from my Uncle Skeevy

 

Refer him to the local police department to get the information.

 

I didn't think he was the confrontational type. Might want to get in touch with your circulation director to make sure the kid isn't one of your paperboys.

 

This happened to me once:

Me: Podunk Press.

Caller: I have a question. Right now, I'm looking at my TV right now, and Local Minor League team is not on it. Instead, they're showing some home shopping show. But in your story on last night's game, it says that Local Minor League team is supposed to be on TV at 7 p.m. tonight. Do you know what time it is now?

Me: 7:15.

Caller: Right, so why is your paper's TV listings saying there's going to be a game when there isn't one?

Me: Uh, sir, do you have a window?

Caller: Yes.

Me: Why don't you look out the window and see what the weather is like.

Caller: Hold on. (Takes a few seconds, comes back) It's raining.

Me: Well, don't you think that may have something to do with it?

Caller: Click

 

My favorite voicemail from a few years ago: "Hi, your NBA stories suck." Click.

I worked in Alaska. The nearest NBA team at the time was Portland. Minneapolis in flight hours, maybe. But yeah, we'll work better on those.

 

You could have cleaned them up and localized them.

I used to work at a small daily where, once a month or so, a drunken old man would come in, demand to talk to me specifically (I wasn't the SE), and then tell me that I need to "reign in" Jenna Fisher because she was sniffing down the wrong path and that we needed to hire a new NASCAR writer, preferably his oldest son, because Fisher was doing nothing to expose the cheating going on in NASCAR. Each month I thought I did a better and better job of explaining what the Associated Press was and that I essentially had no control whatsoever over what she wrote, but each month he would come back as clueless as ever.

 

You should have hired his son...as an unpaid intern