Never owned a house in Atlanta - nor was my name Monty

I’ve changed the names in this story so I don’t get hassled by the guy who used to have my phone number.

I’ve been getting phone calls from people in Georgia who want to know if I want to sell my house in Atlanta.

I don’t have a house in Atlanta.

But a guy named Monty apparently has a house in Atlanta.

From what I can gather, Monty is from Georgia and once had a gig out west here with Uncle Sam’s Air Force or some civilian gig at Cannon Air Force Base.

I first discovered this years ago when telemarketers from car dealerships in Georgia were calling me.

“Hey Monty, you want to sell that snazzy pickup truck?” I was asked.

I don’t have a snazzy pickup truck.

And my name isn’t Monty.

I would engage them.

“I don’t live in Georgia. Ever hear of New Mexico? The 47th state? It’s kind of a big square state between Texas and Arizona. Matter of fact Arizona was carved whole out of the New Mexico Territory. Oh, and my name’s not Monty. Take my name off your list,” I’d say.

But the calls still came.

No one cared to remove my number from the telemarketing list.

What I figured out, and I don’t remember how, this Monty guy seemed to be involved with just about every business and government office around here.

And those phones saved his name and his number, which seven years ago became my number.

City hall, Clovis police, Clovis Fire Department, the Clovis-Carver Public Library, the North Plains Mall and more places had all been called by Monty once upon a time.

One time The Lady of the House and I ordered a door from the home improvement store.

“What’s your phone number,” asked the clerk.

I gave it to him.

“Hmmm, this says your name is Montgomery Thomas,” the clerk said.

“Yeah, I’ve had this number for a few years, he had it before me,” I said.

“So you don’t mind if I call you ‘Monty’,” he said.

A good laugh was had by all.

Earlier this year something finally ticked me off about the whole thing, so I called the cell phone company and chatted up with someone on the other side of the planet in India.

“I am so sorry sir, there is nothing we can do about this. Now there is an app that is supposed to take care of this matter,” said the customer service rep.

It turns out the app wasn’t available from the cell phone company and it was not free.

For just $9.95 a month I could have this magic app that would just clean off all traces of this Monty fellow in connection with my phone number.

I found this hard to believe so I opted to not do anything.

I pondered this.

Did clearing my phone serve a function or was it just my personal pride that wanted it cleared off?

I resolved it wasn’t such a big deal.

Sure, every now and then I’d be talking with someone in an office or something, and ending the call, I’d say, “Have a nice day.”

“You too, Monty,” came the response.

I might sit there for a moment after the hang up, think about it then get over it.

For all I know there might be someone out there in the USA who has one of my old phone numbers, tired of people on the phone calling him or her “Grant.”

Grant McGee writes for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him:

[email protected]