Phone-Sex Snafu

The other day, I accidentally put my boss’ name and a phone-sex phone number on one of our Web sites at work.

This isn’t one of those passive-agressive things, like Oops! I “accidentally” watered all my annoying roomate’s houseplants with beer — this was an honest, if exceedingly unfortunate, mistake.

The Web site read: “For questions, contact [my boss] at 1-800-[number very similar to our 800 number]”.

If you happened to have questions last week, you called and a recording of a woman answered: “For some stim-u-lating conversation, call 1-900-[some sex line].”

My boss is a woman. Like the woman on the recording. Well, most likely nothing like the woman on the recording, but you, a customer with questions, wouldn’t know that. You could easily be confused. And much more confused after the phone call.

God forbid some dunder-headed somebody took the next step, oblivious, and called the 900 number, and will soon sue us for phone-bill damages. “But I had questions! It said to call 1-900 . . .”

The wrong number was up terrifyingly for about four days. That’s a whole nother story, about how our IT department is in New York while we’re in Minneapolis, and about how you have to send painstakingly detailed e-mails explaining changes to the Web site. Rest assured I asked, requested, encouraged, and demanded them to change the number every ten minutes or so.

Luckily my boss is super cool and understanding. Even if she’s not reading this right now: still cool! She actually found it funny. Funny and disturbing. We’d called the number a couple of times: we’d call, and she’d laugh heartily, and then I’d laugh a little, and then she’d stop laughing and say: “This has got to change.”

“Definitely,” I said, nodding vigorously. Then we’d listen to the recording and laugh again, etc.

7 Responses to Phone-Sex Snafu

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