Something quite mortifying happened to me recently and I think I have recovered enough to tell you all about it. Just.

Remember when I was supposedly spending six weeks in hospital on bedrest because I was expecting twins? No? Read about it here. You would have thought I would have learnt my lesson, but no.

Last Friday I was hanging out with some mates at my joint when the phone rang. It was about 3pm. I did not recognise the number and normally I do not answer when I don’t recognise the number because it is always a telemarketer and I hate dealing with telemarketers as I tend to lie to them about not being me. But for some reason, I took the call.

“Hello?” I answered.

Now, a dead giveaway to quickly recognise a sales call is that they tend to not reply straight away. There is always a gap of about 2 seconds because they are usually in shock that a real persona has actually answered. There was the pause in this case. Great. A telemarketer.

“Is that Mrs. Woog?” a female voice enquired.

“No. She is not here right now. Can I take a message?” I smoothly lied.

“Whom am I speaking to?” She asked.

“I am her sister.” Of course!

“Well, it is Regina Felangie* here from Insert High School’s name here. When will she be back? I need to speak with her urgently.” 

I froze for what seemed to be about six months. Adrenaline shot through my body. What should I fucking do now? Is my son being rushed to hospital in an ambulance as I sit here lying to his teacher? Is there some sort of madman on the loose in the school and Horatio had been taken hostage? Was Horatio going to be awarded some sort of prestigious medal at the school assembly and I had forgotten to attend.

There was only one way to deal with this very tricky situation I had put myself in.

“I am so sorry Regina. It IS Mrs. Woog here. I thought you were a telemarketer and I didn’t want to deal with a telemarketer. I really do not like telemarketers. I am so, so sorry that I lied about being my sister. I am mortified actually. And embarrassed. Please do not think any less of me than you probably already do. I am sorry. I am busted.” 100% word vomit flew out of my mouth.

“Well, Mrs Woog, you are not the only one who has been busted today….”

Do you pick up the phone when you don’t know who is calling you?

Is juvenile detention a nice place to spend time in?

*not real name