In the spring of 2020, a couple of things were happening: I had moved to teaching piano online due to this thing called COVID and my phone had stopped working. I dealt with the first thing by wearing a mask everywhere, but the second thing required a trip to the cell phone store.

After selecting my first ever iphone, I was asked if I wanted to bring my number over with me. I said no (I can’t remember why). They said, “Here’s a new one.”

I went home and sent one of those text messages that everyone sees and then either forgets to respond to or has a wisecrack response for.

“Hey. This is Rachel’s new number.”

“Hey! This is Caleb’s old number.”

For a while, all was well. And then one day, it wasn’t.

Ring. Ring.

“Hello. This is Rachel.”

“Hey there, Rachel. We’re looking for Scott.”

“Scott doesn’t use this phone any more.”

“Okay, thanks, we’ll take you off the list.”

This could have been funny had it been the one time, or a few times. Even ten times would have had a certain humor to it.

After four years, though, I’m not sure what it is.

I have learned things about Phone Scott over the past four years. He is a lot older than me, he used to have a business a few hours south of where I live, and he frequently uses my number (our number) to set up an online account with different companies. He can’t answer that number, though, so I feel a bit like I’m owed some secretarial pay.

For a while, I was in denial. When the phone rang and people asked me about Phone Scott, I just got angry and annoyed and said, “No!” and hung up.

Then I went through a period of just being annoyed and explaining to them in a very annoyed voice that I was the one WITH THIS PHONE NUMBER NOW. PLEASE STOP CALLING ME.

As time has passed, though, I have developed a sense of compassion for these haggard human voices. They’re looking for Phone Scott. They can’t find him. They have information for him about his business and money that he can collect (could be related to the pandemic). I am the last known phone number. What could I possibly gain from being angry with them? It’s not their fault.

Now, when the phone rings and it’s for Phone Scott, I do my best to be entirely sweet and charming. My goal is to have that poor, haggard voice on the other end smile a bit or even laugh. Even if I can’t help them find Phone Scott, at least I can make their day a bit better.

Phone Scott has led to some interesting moments, for sure. I will never forget the time when I was cleaning a bathroom and answered a phone call from a collection agency. They were looking for Phone Scott, of course. As I picked up a roll of toilet paper with the Scott logo emblazoned on it, I told them that I couldn’t get ahold of Phone Scott. They were very understanding about Phone Scott and we laughed a bit before I went back to stocking Scott toilet paper while listening to a bass player named Scott. There’s a word for that many little things coming together in one moment: serendipity.

And it wouldn’t have happened without Phone Scott.

Aside from my last dating relationship, Phone Scott has been the most consistent man in my life over the past four years. We don’t talk, obviously. I still haven’t found him. But every month or so, his name comes up and I wonder about him. He’s a part of my life and my story, even though I don’t want him to be.

Sometimes I wonder, does Phone Scott wonder about me? Does he sit there in the dark because the electric company never got a hold of him, cursing that girl who stole his phone number during the pandemic? Have I inadvertently ruined this man’s life because of that one doctor’s appointment they called to reschedule? Am I the villain in a long line of attempted phone calls?

Who knows?

I bet you Phone Scott does. Do you want to give him a call?