DOUBLE-FINGER-PRESS-PRESS

I didn't know I had so many friends who want to call me all the time.   Apparently, I have friends in all states, friends who want to make sure I win a cruise or donate to some charity or pay some bill I don't even have or change my cable company or date someone I've never met.

It's amazing the friends I have!  And none of them has caller ID.  They are all either random states or blocked callers.  Yes, those are definitely the kinds of friends I would have.

So, imagine, if you will, the great disappointment of tonight's caller from Lansing.  He makes the mistake of ringing me at 8:47 p.m.  My usual modus operandi is to answer the phone with one finger then hang the phone up directly using a second finger.  I never, ever speak. 

Until tonight, that is.

To be fair, 8:47 isn't horribly tardy, but I'm in kind of a pissy mood.  When the phone rings, I start the double-finger-press-press routine, but, for some inexplicable reason, I decide to speak.

I do not say "Hello."

I do not ask the caller to identify himself or herself.

Instead, I speak forcefully into the receiver: "DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS?"  And then, I do something I never do.  I hesitate, waiting for a response.

The shocked voice on the other end stammers, "I'm ... oh ... sorry ... I --"

Click.  The double-finger-press-press routine is complete.  Goodnight, telemarketer; goodnight, telephone; goodnight, annoyance.

Note to real friends -- I will speak to you after 9:00 p.m., but you've got to show up on my caller I.D. to make it worth my while to stay up past a toddler's bedtime.  I'm just saying.