One time, we started getting messages on our answering machine from a man named Albert, who spoke in French. I wished I had studied harder in school because I could not understand him at all. Sometimes we were home when he called and I tried to explain that he had the wrong number. It probably sounded something like this to him:
Me: Pardon me, you are soaking in number!
Albert: Who the hell are you?
Me: Thank you welcome mystery and gumballs!
It was a little funny for me, but probably very frustrating for Old French Albert. Eventually I felt bad that I could not make myself understood and I turned to the wisest of sages, Google. Google informed me that just one digit off from my number was a listing for "French lessons". So, I called the number and informed the very surprised man that Albert was trying to reach him. Albert turned out to be his father in law, who apparently has very thick dialing fingers.
Albert calls less and less all the time.
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