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.
Perhaps I just need to be kinder?
Anyway, I’ll never really know, because in the end I froze and didn't answer the call. Alas, no message was left, leaving me to ponder forever what I wanted to say to myself.
In retrospect, I should have just answered and said, “What do YOU want?” Or maybe, “I’m not home”—which is always at least partly true, according to my friends.
Easy for you to laugh, but would you answer a phone call from yourself?