20+ Years of the Same Wrong Number Calls to Date in Kuwait

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What may appear as a harmless store front for a logistics company that specialises in exporting all manner of goods to Amman, Syria, Lebanon and all their provinces, has been a telephonic thorn in my ear for the past 25 years.

For as long as I could remember, I had been receiving “wrong number” calls asking for a stranger by the name of Abu Tareq. I would quickly inform the caller that no such person lives here, and that this number is a residence number, not a business.

Some callers however would be far less gratuitous, and would immediately delve into a vicious assault as to why their items had not been transported, without so much as a hi-how-are-you, much to my utter bedazzlement.

A ringing phone was the harbinger of doom to my ears; for more often than not, 7 out of 10 times, it was a call for this business, apparently very profitable. I would always ignore the ringing phone, citing that if a friend wanted to reach me, they should try my mobile (mind you, back in the day, receiving a call from a landline on a mobile saw you footing the tab as well, but I had had enough).

As a child I used to wonder where this seemingly similar logistics business was, and it was not until a couple of years ago, whilst strolling casually in an area I have inhabited for so long, that I looked up, coincidently, but almost as if by a bizarre twist of fate, and my eyes fell upon the name that had haunted my telephone for so long.

The minute I saw the name, it rang a bell.

As soon as I read the number, I stood still.

It was a mere one digit difference between their number and my accursed home number.

My tormentor was right there across the street from where I stood, laughing in my face as to the thousands upon thousands of wrong calls I had received on their behalf. Taunting me, jeering at me.

I believe I am entitled to a form of compensation, for since then I have started informing the callers of the real number, much like a secretary, just without the desk and fancy title.

Or maybe I could offer to sell them my number, given the frequency with which I had been receiving calls on their behalf.

Decisions, decisions.

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