Newsletter Issue 40 – January 2009

The Wrong Connection

     I awoke very early one morning, paid a visit to the washroom, drank a glass of water, let the cat out, put the bedside radio on and tried to return to sleep. In my semi-conscious state I listened to a recording of my favourite singers the Three Cantors. At the conclusion the announcer gave a phone number for ordering the CD recording.
     Unfortunately, before departing, the cat had knocked my bedside pencil and notepad under the bed. I staggered down to the sitting room, searching until I found paper and pencil, all the while repeating the number to myself... this being essential as I have always had a mental block with numbers.
     Later that day I decided to order the recording, dutifully dialled the number and heard a pleasant “Good Morning” from the other end. I proceeded to explain what I wanted and pointed out that I didn’t have a CD player, and wondered if they also had cassettes. After a short pause the gentleman said, “Madam, I haven’t a clue what you are talking about.” Well, I thought, he’s slow at the switch, but then I know this new technical high efficiency isn’t all it’s cracked up to be!! So I carefully repeated my whole request and waited. This dialogue followed: –
          He:      “Are you by any chance calling from Canada?”
          Me:     “Of course I am! Aren’t you in Toronto?”
          He:     “No.”
          Me:     “Oh, then you must be the Anglican bookroom in London.”
          He:     “Madam, this is the White House in Washington.”
     I was absolutely gob-smacked, and after an embarrassing pause I proceeded to apologize and explain the whole episode to trying to remember a number and that it was the cat’s fault for shoving my pencil under the bed, and did he like cats?? After a discussion on cats, he asked me where I lived and if it was near North Bay? I said it wasn’t very near but was in the general direction, whereupon he proceeded to tell me about his honeymoon in North Bay! What a friendly guy! I once more apologized and he reassured me that it had been a pleasure to talk to Canada.
     After I put the phone down I kept thinking how funny the whole episode had been, and on recounting it to my neighbour, a retired RCMP officer, I emphasized how nice the White House official had been with his long conversation with me. My friend shattered my romantic slant on the whole affair by saying... “Oh Pat, all that time he was having the call traced and Ottawa contacted to find out if you had a criminal record. Also your mention of tapes struck a Monica Lewinsky cord! What if it had been President Clinton who answered the phone?” I said if it had been, I would have given him a very large piece of my mind about a lot of things!
     As a typical in a small community, word of my escapade travelled fast and soon I was receiving enquiries as the story blossomed, and it was believed that the FBI had surrounded my house!
     Just as my reputation was fading into past tense I was delighted... and apprehensive on hearing the Three Cantors on the radio again a few weeks later. This time I was ready with pad and pencil and dutifully wrote the phone number down.
     Later, with absolute (or almost) confidence I dialled and an authoritative voice answered: – “Madam, this is the Kremlin in Moscow.”
     This is a true story (except for the exaggeration about Moscow!) which happened to me in 1999.

C. Patricia Horner
August 2, 2001