Last Friday. When I was turning on the ignition, I noticed a paper stuck under the wiper.
It said, “Please call me, it’s URGENT!” together with the phone number.
I stare at the paper for a moment. Was that note really meant for me? I mean if it was, it didn’t even state my car plate number on it. It could be anyone else. Or it could be an anonymous person who happened to step on that note and accidentally or deliberately slipped it under my wiper.
My car was parked exactly a few feet in front of the bank’s main door. So anyone who sits facing out the door would directly stare at my car. My nice-little-old-green-and-slightly-dented-in-the-front car. So it could be someone who really bothered seeing my car parked nicely and securely and get annoyed by it and then decided that it wouldn’t do any harm if that someone play a little peek-a-boo with me, right?
When it said urgent, I automatically reached my phone and dial. Not dialing that number of course. I sent a text to my boss. He called me and we discuss the matter. Who might be left a note to my car? Was there any scratch or dented or unusual or suspicious thing happened or attached to my car? Not that I noticed of. I asked my boss to give that number a call. Instead he asked me to call it myself. Oh come on la boss, you are a man. People might intimidate by man’s voice, so maybe that person will tell you the truth. But he still insisted that I call that number. Ok. I gave up.
Then I took my sweet little time staring at the note again and plan what should I do next. I studied the hand-writing and the spelling. I guess it was a man. An older. Much, much older man. A man with thousands of wrinkles and walking assisted by a cane. But, why would an older, much, much older, with thousands of wrinkles, with a walking cane man tried to contact me? I mean tried to contact my car to be exact. Why?
It really bothered me much. I guess this was left for me to handle this thing alone.
I decided to call that number using a public phone. Since I won’t easily give out my phone number to any strangers, not even in a million years. I drove out the parking lot and search for one, but to no avail. So I drove home.
It dawned to me even if he tried to harass me later on, I could just block his number, right? Thanks to my phone that has such advantage. So I called and found out that it was a bus tickets seller’s number.
What the heck?