Meeting Potential Spam

Strange as it might sound, I actually met Potential Spam the other day.  All these years his name would come up on my cell phone, interrupting a quiet afternoon with annoying precision.  I’d learned to ignore the ringing by tapping the dismiss function, returning to solitude and quiet.

Yesterday was different. I needed an electrician to solve an issue on our property.  While looking for a locally listed electrician, the search turned up vendor services companies which promised to find the most qualified or reasonably priced electricians according to my Zip-code.  After entering the required fields, the vendor services company informed me that an electrician would be at my property the following day between 8:00am and 11:00am.  The last detail required was my credit card information so they could charge me in advance for 3 hours of promised work.

(Image courtesy of Version)

I requested the name of the electrician and a phone number to contact the individual to assist him/her in finding our rural location.  Some versions of electronic maps we’ve found took folks off on a wild goose chase so it was easier to give them directions we knew would get them here.  The vendor service company was reluctant to provide the phone number of the electrician seeing as how they might lose their portion of a pre-arranged contract.

Fast forward to the next morning when I heard my cellphone go off around 7:30am.  Glancing at the information it was Potential Spam.  Before I could dismiss the call, it quit ringing.  A couple of minutes later the phone rang; again, it was Potential Spam.

Normally I don’t get those annoying calls quite so early in the morning; but my brain engaged momentarily, suggesting that it might be the electrician attempting to call.  He had contacted us via the vendor services company’s switchboard and thought it odd my phone number showed me living in California, as he laughed knowing the address given was near Buffalo, Texas.

Sure enough, it was the fellow trying to find our property, sorting through the various County Roads which weave around this area.  He wanted to let me know he would only be a few more minutes in transit, that he wasn’t too far off the mark.

His service truck pulled into our driveway, and I walked over to greet him.

As he opened the door of his truck, I reached out my hand, gaining eye contact as I asked, “Do you go by Potential or by your last name Spam?”  We got along great from that moment on. He diagnosed the electrical issue and promptly had things working.