The butt dial of destiny.

Someone called me on my cell phone yesterday.

Yeah, it surprised the hell out of me too. Do people still talk to each other on those? Is that a thing? “My phone is buzzing, but it’s not a text. I DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS.”

Anyway I didn’t pick up because I was at work and regardless I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize. So I just let it go to voicemail. I thought that would be the end of it, but to my further bemusement, the caller actually left a message.

Sort of. It was ten seconds of silence.

I was pretty sure it was a junk phone call, but I don’t like blocking a number unless I’m absolutely certain they’re up to no good, so I did my customary Googling to check if the caller was a known spammer. No spam reports came up in the search results. But a résumé did. Someone in the film industry listing a bunch of assistant director credits.


Curiosity and boredom compelled me to click the link and begin stalking my mystery caller’s work history. Nothing too impressive, a couple of campy films, a DVD feature or two, a few obscure TV shows…

Wait a minute. I know that TV show.

I was on that TV show.

Shit just got real.

Ten years ago, I spent one extremely lucrative day as an extra after being tipped off by a friend about an open casting call (my friend would later suffer some minor butthurt over the fact that I got hired and she did not, proving no good deed goes unpunished). The episode I appeared in was in the third season of the show…the very season on which my mystery dialer had been working as second assistant director.

Getting a random call from the 2nd AD of a show you were involved with for a mere 16 hours a decade prior would be strange enough in itself. But you have might have figured out by now that when it comes to strangeness, my life never strives for just sorta strange – it makes a beeline right for absurdly strange.

Because it occurred to me several hours after the fact that I don’t even have the same phone number anymore.


Option 1: Mr. 2nd AD developed a mad crush on me during my 16 hour stint on set, but it took him ten years to work up the courage to do anything about it. Upon learning that my old phone number now belongs to someone else, he went full stalker until he finally tracked down my new number.

Option 2: Mr. 2nd AD was so captivated by my stellar performance of drinking a cup of flat Coca-Cola coffee in the background of a cafe that he absolutely had to have me back to reprise the role in the new project he happens to be currently working on. Upon learning that my old phone number now belongs to someone else, he went full stalker until he finally tracked down my new number.

Option 3: Fate is fucking with me.

I’m 99% sure it was Option 3, but 1% of me thinks that’s still one excessively coincidental butt dial.

Why can’t I have this kind of luck with the lottery?

11 thoughts on “The butt dial of destiny.

    • History shows that I use up all my random chance on stuff that makes a good story, not stuff that makes me rich. If I ever actually did win the lottery I’m pretty sure that would be Fate’s cue to burn down my apartment with the winning ticket inside before I had the chance to claim it.


      • …and then that would make a good story too! (probably a better story than “just winning the lottery”)

        Has he contacted you again since? Would you ever call him back? This could totally work in a TV drama!


        • Precisely.

          No, he hasn’t called again, and I definitely don’t have any kind of inclination to call him back (telephoning strangers is #2 on my top 10 list of social anxieties). But I know at least a couple of people who totally would, and you’re right, it would probably make for some pretty good entertainment.

          Liked by 1 person

  1. Today a local CT number showed up on my cellphone but since I’m at work and didn’t recognize the number I didn’t answer. I was disappointed they didn’t leave a message since I’m currently on the hunt for new employment diggs… :/


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