Question: could this be a sign the NSA is listening in on my actual phone calls…
…and maybe even has me under direct surveillance?
I don’t want to come across as paranoid, or be accused of being part of the black helicopter crowd, who we know believe that the Jews, in league with extraterrestrials, are using advanced joint Israeli/otherworldly technologies to keep the Palestinians in poverty, run the world banks, control the world media, and corner the global markets on gold, precious metals, and Avril Lavigne CDS (not to mention, artificially drive up the price of falafels: I mean, they’re made from freaking chick peas. You mean to tell me an order of ground up and fried chick peas costs $7? Bullshit!). Therefore, let me just spell out the facts and let you decide.
So. It’s dinner time last night and my wife is away on business. The youngest has been running me ragged all day, so I don’t feel like cooking. I figure I’ll order a couple pizzas for me and the boys.
What follows is a transcript of my call to BlackJack Pizza (from memory):
BJ lady: “Thank you for calling Black Jack, will this be for takeout or delivery.
Me: “pick-up, please.”
BJ lady: “Okay. Can I get your name and phone number please?”
Me: “Jeff, [xxx-xxx-xxxx]”
BJ lady: “Thank you, Jeff. How can I help you this evening?”
Me: “I’d like two medium 2 topping pizzas, the first with sausage and mushroom, the second with pineapple and ham.”
BJ lady: “Will that be all?
Me: “Yes, thanks.”
BJ lady: “Your total is $12.49. Give us about 10 minutes.”
Me: “Thank you.”
Unknown voice: “– Wait. Who puts fruit on a goddamn pizza? What are you, a queer? Listen: 86 the pineapple, honey, and throw some pepperoni on that bitch. Pineapple. For chrissakes, what the hell has happened to this country…?”
Bj lady: “So you want pepperoni and ham instead of pineapple and ham, sir?”
BJ lady: “Sir? Hello? Is that pepperoni and ham instead of pineapple and ham?”
Me: “Better do as they say, yes. Mutherfuckers have, like, neutron guns and nano-encased super aircraft that can’t even be picked up by radar and is invisible to the naked eye. Plus...look at the price of falafels…”
BJ lady: “10 minutes. You can pick it up at the counter. Thank you for calling BlackJack!”
Now you tell me. Does anything about the BlackJack pizza lady’s demeanor seem, you know, off to you?
Because I hate to be an alarmist, but she did seem a little intrusive.