Thursday, 10 December 2009


Okay, so I'm fully aware that some of you out there are still slap bang in the middle of Wednesday or, if you're in the UK like me, probably fast asleep but it's the early hours of Thursday morning and therefore I feel I can post my TMI Thursday now. 'Kay???

TMI Thursday

So I mentioned last week about how I used to work for directory enquiries and give out phone numbers to the public. It was booorrrriiiinnnng, and I used to take between 900 - 1200 calls a day. Usually closer to the higher figure as I was extremely good at my job, a very fast typist, and my boredom led me to treating each call like an opportunity to better my average time.

Amazingly I lasted there for nearly a year and a half before my patience gave out, but early on in my employment, I experienced a particularly memorable call . . .

It was just another normal, dull day when, approximately 500 calls into the day, I picked up this call. "Directory Enquiries, which name please?" I droned into the phone. It was always the same. At the beginning of the day, I would do my best to be perky and upbeat, injecting enthusiasm into those five words. By about midway through, I had lost the energy to even try anymore, and my voice was starting to hurt. Hence the monotone.

There was a silence in response to my greeting. "Directory Enquiries, which name please?" I repeated, more sharply. I didn't have patience for someone slow - that would TOTALLY drag down my average call time.

Once again, no one replied. But suddenly I heard, on the other end of the line, some very heavy breathing. And then the caller - clearly a male - started to make loud groaning noises.

Okay, so I'm a little naive. But I had a mild suspicion that this was a dodgy phone call.

On the other hand, I was also reluctant to hang up.

Mainly because I was worried the dude was actually groaning in PAIN and had phoned directories instead of the emergency number in his panic. It HAS happened before and given that the 999 team were on the other side of the building, I would have never forgiven myself had I hung up on someone who was having a heart attack or something like that.

But also part of me wanted to see what happened. Because I'm sick like that.

So even though the guy wouldn't speak to me, and kept moaning and groaning, I stayed on the line. Every so often, just to check, I would say "Sir? Are you okay? Do you need me to put you through to the emergency number?" but he wouldn't reply. Just kept moaning. It got to the point where I started to wonder if he had actually sat on his phone or something and didn't even realise I was there.

After about two minutes of this, he let out one last gasp. Then there was a pause.

And then, in a Northern England accent, he finally spoke.

"Thank you, pet."


Yup. I had been victim of a dirty phone call where the guy had been - ahem - pleasuring himself down the phone to me. And he had evidently really enjoyed it.

And secretly, I think I had known all along. I just had really wanted a good anecdote to tell my colleagues, and that was why I had stayed on the line.

I can't help but think I should have got a much better rate per hour after that call though... ;)


I don't imagine LiLu's TMI post will be up for a while given that it will still be Wednesday in her world, but why not pop by later on today to see what other awesome TMI's have been served up this week . . .


  1. Ahhhh... you got phone sexed!! I'm a little jealous, I have to say. I have definitely never been phone sexed!! Yeah, you definitely should have been paid more for that one!

  2. You dirty phone sex operator, you ;)....

  3. Is that really phone sex, or is that more like phone rape?

  4. Ew gross. But I would have stayed on the phone too! It's just the mystery of what is actually going on on the other side of the phone. I'd have to know. I love that he called you pet. Is that a normal term of endearment there? Too funny!

  5. "But also part of me wanted to see what happened. Because I'm sick like that."

    We are two peas, my dear. Two freakin gross peas.


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