Two Slashes

For everyone else, there are prank calls.

Alright, so maybe I don’t have the cleanest record when it comes to telephony.  I’ve been the silent listener in a few prank calls (though I’ve never placed one myself, and if you’ve ever met me you can probably figure out why), and I’ve done a bit of manual wardialing.  Technically, that doesn’t make me a troublemaker, at least no more than most of the people I’ve met.  And at no point did I overstep past slight annoyance into genuine mischief.

On the other hand, there are always people willing to cross that boundary without any thought at all.  Usually it’s for a laugh, but there will always be times where there seems to be some further motive driving these people, a reason you know they’re going through the trouble to mess with your head.

If you thought that I was giving you just such an example, you won’t be disappointed.

Last Saturday, I got a phone call around 2 A.M. from one of my friends.  Such late phone calls themselves aren’t unusual or even unexpected, but when the first words you hear are inquiring about whether you’re contemplating suicide, you know something is up.

After I reassured my friend that I was not dangling from the ceiling, he proceeded to tell me that someone had called his home only a few minutes before, and that one of his parents had answered.  This unknown caller (who I have no way of identifying) proceeded to tell my friend’s parents that it was me calling them, and hinted that I was in a depressed state and considering suicide, or at least something around those lines.  Naturally, as soon as they hung up, they did what any responsible parent would do:  flipped out.

My friend was out and returned home minutes after the phone call, at which point he immediately called me to verify that the story was, as he believed, false.

Between the two of us, we took what little information we could put together and realized that someone (we don’t know who) was trying to screw with both of us, and that it had to be someone with the resources and enough brains to use fake caller ID information (or use this…*ahem*).  After all, who else would think to spoof their phone number as 212-666-1337?  (For the uninitiated, 212 is an area code in New York, 666 should be instantly recognizable, and 1337 is a “hacker” designation for someone with “elite” or “advanced” (a truly skilled person wouldn’t brag) skills.)

I’m not writing this because I have a guilty conscience for my past actions and thought a story would be a fun way to clear them, or even because the events that transpired over the weekend are weighing on my mind.  This post is, like so many others, a reminder that there are people willing to screw with your thoughts, willing to overstep social boundaries simply because they’re bored one Saturday night.

Sure, there are times where we want to break from the mold, times we want to be just the slightest bit darker than we usually are.  While indulging these desires isn’t a problem, just make sure you do it in a manner that doesn’t hurt other people.  There are constructive ways to channel that energy; I suggest you find one.  Especially if you’re the mystery caller.