I pick up my cell phone and see that I have missed a call. I am unfamiliar with the number. Curious, and lacking anything better to do, I Google it to see if it matches up with a name I know. It shows up as a doctor's office; incidentally, it's on the street where I lived the first 5 or so years of my humble life. Anyway, I have visited no doctors on that street in about 25 years, so I know that it must have been a wrong number. Hence, no voicemail was left.
Remember, I have nothing better to do. So I call this number. Expecting what? I have no idea. A nice female voice answers. The receptionist at a chiropractor's office. I explain that I got a call from there and ask if they were trying to reach me. Instead of blowing me off, she really tries to help. Does she have nothing better to do as well? She asks me my name. She asks me what company I'm with. No matter. It's just my personal cell number. Now, I'm trying to blow her off.
She asks around. To no avail. I thank her for her time and am about to hang up when she asks me one more question.
She: "Are you in the business of bees?"
She: "Do you work with bees?"
Another beat. Hesitation. Pause. Whatever.
She: "OK. It must have been a wrong number. Have a nice day."
I hang up the phone and wonder where in the world that question came from. I wonder how I would have responded had my brain had more time to process that question. I'll just put that down as Surreal Experience #278 (and counting).
So. Beekeepers of Nashville. Call your local chiropractors. One of them might be in need of your services.