When my home phone rang yesterday, I had already decided I was too busy to answer, but I glanced at the Caller ID anyway (as we all do). To my surprise it showed the call was coming from ME, listing my telephone number.
I’ve heard that techno-savvy telemarketers can make it appear that their calls are originating from the number they’re calling into, but I was caught off guard for the moment and I had an odd notion: this call might actually be coming from me—from my higher self (or the voice of my conscience)! Perhaps it had a message I needed to hear, a message I had been ignoring too long.
In nanoseconds my mind raced through the possibilities. Perhaps I was going to admonish myself for being too insensitive in this blog—for my choleric blasts against toothless, unimaginative, pop music pablum (as I did here for instance) and my defense of all-things-Beatles. Or for never passing up a cheap laugh at the expense of beleaguered financial institutions (as I did here when I referred to every big Wall Street investment bank as a “special snowflake” that needed affirmation and support). Or for savaging the benign patriarchy and “Father-Knows-Best” autocracy that masquerades as “servant leadership” in too much of the business world.