On my hike down memory lane, I stumbled across this gem……….


Stalkers are not fun. Neither are those sick people who make heavy breathing phone calls at all hours of the day or night.

One of these disturbed callers got hold of my phone number somehow. Could have been anyone, a stranger who randomly picked my name from the phone book, an ex-employee who had it in for me, or even a friend I had somehow offended. Whoever it was has remained anonymous.
The harassment continued for a few months. The calls would come at any time, as soon as I arrived home after shopping, in the middle of preparing a meal, even when I was in the bath. Those were the worst. Having to climb out of the tub, grab a towel, and run down the passage to answer the call. We didn’t have cell phones in those days.

No matter what the time, I felt compelled to pick up that receiver, especially at night. To me, telephone calls in the middle of the night could only mean one thing, and it wouldn’t be a good thing. There were the times after having had my sleep disrupted, and with heart racing so fast I nearly suffer cardiac arrest, thinking
the grim reaper was reporting for duty, I grab the phone,

” Hullo”,

I can hardly speak, I’m so dreading the reason for the call, and then I’m only met with utter silence at the other end.

Come to think of it. Maybe those bath interruptions were not the worst, perhaps those that ripped me from my slumbers were. The rage that would engulf me on these occasions would be dizzying. I imagined him, or her,
giggling at the other end of the line, absolutely delighting in my frustration and fury.

The calls were beginning to affect my health. The constant interruption of my sleep was tiring me out. I was becoming irritable. All I wanted was to have a good night’s sleep but found even when the phone did not ring, I still lay awake, waiting for, and dreading the sound of its bell.

That’s when my son stepped in to handle things. Sean had heard my going on about the phone calls, but had never been around when they happened. On this day, though, it came about that he was home when I got one of those calls.

In the middle of our conversation, the phone rang. I answered it quite happily, not expecting anything untoward, and then bang!, There it was… The Deafening!

Whoever was giving me that silent treatment was about to discover the power of sound and have more than his day destroyed.

I signalled Sean that it was happening. He quietly took the phone from me, put two fingers to his lips, and let out such a piercing whistle that I stumbled backwards. Somebody’s eardrum must have shattered that day. Mine nearly was, and that was without the amplification of the phone’s speaker.

No more annoying calls after that. I wonder if the caller ever thought what a chop he had been, as he paid the audiologist those exorbitantly expensive fees.

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