Plight of Little old Ladies

Plight of Little Old Ladies

by

Mary Fahey

I meet weekly with a group of women I met when we danced in the Central Coast Follies. We take in a movie, have lunch together or just go for coffee. One Sunday, we went to the SLO Little Theater to see “Singing in the Rain”. Eight of us car pooled in two cars. Penny and I volunteered to drive.

            I picked up Dixie in Arroyo Grande then Dolores in Pismo Beach before Bette in Avila. I told each that I would call when I picked up the previous woman to let them know I’m on my way.

            All went well until I tried to call Bette. A man picked up. I thought maybe her son visited her.

            “May I speak to Bette?”

            “There’s no Bette here. You have the wrong number.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I thought I must have pushed a wrong button. The cell phone sometimes puzzles me. So I tried again and got the same man.

“Oh, is this the Bette Calkins residence?”

“No, you have the wrong number again.”

“Oh, I’m so very sorry, I must have the number wrong in my phone.”

So I decided to call her cell phone instead of home number. I found it in my directory and punched the “call” button.

“Bette’s not here,” a man answered.

“Oh did she leave already. I’m on my way to pick her up.”

“No, there is no Bette here. You keep dialing the wrong number.”

After profusely apologizing again I decided to drive directly there without calling. When I arrived, Bette stood at the end of the driveway with her cell phone to her ear. After she got in the car she said, “I just called you.”

“Well if you called my home, I’m not there.”

“No, I called your cell,” she said.

“Funny, it didn’t ring.” I went on to tell her about trying to call her three times and getting the same man.

“On the third time, he didn’t say ‘hello’, he just answered ‘Bette’s not here’.” We all had a good laugh and continued on to meet up with the others in SLO.

When I returned home after the show, I had a message on my answering machine.

“Hi, this is Bette, …oh, here you are,” followed by three and a half minutes of conversation from my car.  Bette had obviously not cancelled the call on her cell phone.

It’s not easy being old.