I don’t sell wigs, really I don’t.

Just got a phone call a little while ago asking me if I sell wigs. It was an older lady with a strong accent, and she found it hard to believe me when I said that I don’t sell wigs.

I just chalked it up to one of those wrong number things and went about my day. Fast forward a half an hour. There is a knock at my door. Little old lady with the accent (who I recognize from my building) asking me where she can buy these wigs. Which wigs, I ask? She holds up a Paula Young catalogue, with my name and address on it. Light bulb in my head flashes on. It had been in my oversize mail slot, I guess, and somehow made its way into her hands. I doubt she took it out of the slot.

I patiently explained to her that it is a catalog, and that you have to call the number and give them a credit card number so that you can order the wigs from THEM. She thanked me and left. But I wonder if she just thinks I won’t sell to her. She seemed very confused.

Lesson to be learned – if there is ever anything in your mail slot that you don’t want, rip it up, or tear off your address and identifying details. Luckily for me this was a harmless old lady, but she had my phone # and my address. You don’t want those things falling into the wrong hands.

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  1. Yikes! Especially after being stalked at work by a man who was in love with my headcovering…I understand!

  2. Yonit says:

    So I’d like a reddish brown pony sheitel, you have those? ;) *ducks*

  3. Y Kohn says:

    I think something else is going on, try contacting relatives of this lady.

    She might be having first symptoms of dementia. Confusion comes first. I know from personal experience.

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