Hello, Midas?

Customer service tends to be a bit unusual around here. Either I get someone who is SO helpful, or I get people that are worthless. When I was setting up my phone/internet, I got a guy who was above and beyond. He asked me what I wanted my phone number to be. I have never had a preference. I'll just learn it for a year and go on my merry way. But he insisted on something "catchy". I hesitate to put my number in a blog, so we'll creatively say that my number is basically 566 6667. That's a lot of 6's. Apparently, the number 566 6666 used to be a taxi company back in 2000 and we had an extended conversation about if that would be a problem for me. Boldly, I decided not. No one warned me about Midas.

Every morning for the past three mornings, someone has called between 8 and 9 am. I answer with a gruff morning voice to hear, "(pause)... Is this Midas?" I resist the urge to tell them that a gruff American girl with morning voice answers the Midas phone with an irritated "Hello?" Instead, I politely tell them they have the wrong number. I just looked up their number - 566 6676. Grr. Now it's not that I'm not awake at this hour. But it's the hour that I decide to either be productive, rising at 8 on the dot, or be lazy and roll out of bed at 9. These people have stolen my hour. Maybe I should help Midas advertise their number better. You know, put signs up around town.

Maybe then they'll let a girl sleep in a little, guiltfree.