Creative voicemail leads to confusion
My name is not Micah. I don’t live with a Micah. I don’t really even know any Micahs. And I have no clue how to fix a water heater.
This did not stop a certain feminine voice from periodically appearing in my voicemail messages asking for Micah to come over and do just that.
I called her back once and explained that she had the wrong number.
If I did come over and attempt to fix her water heater, she would not only be taking cold showers for a few more months, she would be taking those cold showers in a severely flooded and water-damaged house. Simply put, I am not qualified to fix water heaters.
I thought she understood. However, a few months later, I had another call from the same woman, whose water heater was apparently still broken.
It was then that it occurred to me what was happening. “Micah” probably has the same number as I do, only he lives in Moorhead and the woman made an honest mistake and forgot to dial an area code.
The wrong number was not the main problem, though. The main problem was that this woman does not follow European prog concept albums.
Yes, you read that right. If the caller had only picked up Ayreon’s Into the Electric Castle album at the nearest Best Buy, none of this confusion would have happened.
She would have realized I am just a mechanically inept college student who doesn’t know Micah.
You see, when I started college and finally had my own answering machine, I decided no friend, relative or telemarketer would be greeted with “Hello, you’ve reached Cheryl. I am unable to answer my phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep.”
First of all, that’s what everyone says. It’s simply not creative.
Secondly, such messages insult the caller’s intelligence with obvious information.
Obviously, if you reached an answering machine, I am not answering my phone. And seeing as answering machines have been around for awhile now, most people know to leave a message after the beep.
I decided my messages would be fun and original. I got inspiration from my favorite music, TV shows, and my own bizarre imagination.
My messages have included everything from “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” to being held captive by psycho monkeys.
When the water heater woman called, my message was inspired by Ayreon, the main musical project of Dutch composer and multi-instrumentalist Arjen Lucassen.
The message said something to the effect of “You have reached Cheryl, Princess of the Electric Castle,” followed by the usual “leave a message” mumbo-jumbo.
This woman did not realize that the Electric Castle is a fictitious place in an alternate universe where lost souls must fight their personal demons and find their way back to their own dimension.
When she forgot to dial the Minnesota area code and heard something about an electric castle, she came to the understandable conclusion that I was there to save her from her water heater woes.
When I began looking for a job a few months ago, the Electric Castle vanished from my voicemail and reverted to merely inhabiting my CD player.
Strangely enough, when I surrendered my need for uniqueness to the clean cut professionalism I once deemed boring, I was no longer asked to fix water heaters.
Columnists' opinions do not necessarily reflect the views of The Spectrum