Peerless Television Service and Repair

Mom Calls

    I picked up the phone on the first ring, and, in my professional manner, said, “Peter Leroy.”
    “Hey,” said a male voice, the voice of a man who had some kind of grudge, but not the voice of one of my clients.
    “Hey,” said I.
    “When can I pick up my TV?”
    “You have the wrong number. This isn’t Peerless.”
    “Oh, yeah?” said a male voice now full of suspicion.
    “Honest,” I said.
    “Who are you?”
    “Peter Leroy.”
    “Don’t give me that crap.”
    “Have a nice day,” I said, sarcastically.
    “Hey! Wait a minute!”
    “Yes?” I said calmly, smiling into the phone.
    “Aren’t you the guy who repairs TVs?”
    “No, I’m the guy who gives you that Peter Leroy crap,” I said.
    “Hey, sorry,” he said with audible chagrin. “I guess I was a bit irascible.”
    “You were,” I said.
    “It’s partly your fault, though,” he asserted. “I mean, I’m annoyed with Peerless, so I called Peerless, but you answered.”
    “I don’t see where the part about its being my fault comes in.”
    “Well, I mean, why did you answer the phone if you’re not Peerless?”
    “Because it rang.”
    “Yeah, but it rang because I called Peerless Television Service and Repair.”
    “I see what you mean, and I agree that there is a certain logic to it, but this isn’t the Peerless number any more. This used to be their number, but it’s not now. When I rented this house I got their old number.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Why did I get their old number?”
    “No. I know that. We both know that. The phone company screwed up. Neither of us is surprised by that. What I mean is, why did you rent that house? Renting the house sounds like the beginning of all our trouble, so I’m wondering what induced you to rent that house.”
    “Cost,” I said frankly, “and convenience.”
    “Explain, please.”
    “My wife and I have been away for a while, and we found when we returned that housing prices had—”
    “Skyrocketed.”
    “That’s right.”
    “I could have told you that.”
    “I wish you had told me that before we sold our apartment on East 89th Street and left for New Mexico. We might have kept the apartment and rented it.”
    “I’m not gifted in that way.”
    “Alas.”
    “Yeah. So, when you got back you couldn’t afford to buy an apartment equivalent to the one you had sold when you left the city, and you couldn’t really afford to rent one equivalent to it, either?”
    “Right.”
    “Your lifestyle was under attack.”
    “I wouldn’t put it that way.”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I imagine that you discovered—to your horror—that you really had only two options: squeeze yourselves into a very small apartment in the city or take something more comfortable out of town.”
    “Uncanny. You really do have a gift.”
    “Thank you. I’m hopeless at predicting the future, but I have a knack for unearthing the past, given even the tiniest clue.”
    “What was the clue in this case?” I asked. “Was it something in my tone of voice?”
    “I think it was the word cost.”
    Albertine came around the corner into the room we were using as our home office, gave me a puzzled look, and mouthed, “Who are you talking to?”
    “Your mother,” I mouthed right back.
    “Let me see if I can reconstruct the sequence of events that led to your getting the Peerless number,” said the caller.
    Albertine reached for the extension phone on her desk, but I stopped her with a gesture. “Just kidding,” I mouthed.
    The gifted caller said, “I’m getting the feeling that when you moved in, you contacted the phone company and said you wanted a phone—”
    “This is really fascinating,” I said, “and I’m very impressed by your gift, but I’ve got to get off the line. My wife is expecting a call from her mother.”
    “Oh. Okay. But just let me finish.”
    “Sorry,” I said, and I pressed the off button.
    The phone rang again almost at once.
    “Look,” I said, “I really do have a lot of work to do, and I can’t afford to—”
    “Peter?” said Albertine’s mother.
    “Alma!” I said. “I thought you were someone else. We’ve been getting calls for Peerless Television Service and Repair.”
    She began laughing. I have that effect on her.
    “Here’s Albertine,” I said, and I handed her the phone.