Answering Machines and Shredding

I left a message on Phyllis' answering machine.  I doubt she gets it and if she does, she won't return my call.  She  always thinks her answering machine is broken. She called me one day and asked if I could take a look at it as the red light would not stop flashing.  When I arrived, I found out Gram had 11 messages.  I tried explaining that to her, but she ended up shutting the machine off.  When the machine is on, she likes the male recording voice as she thinks that will prevent the people tapping her phones from breaking in.  The male voice is so obviously computer generated, but I am happy if it comforts Gram.

Phyllis is very paranoid about bad things happening to her.  She is convinced that her phones have been tapped since the 1970s.  I might ask her a question about a family member, and she will immediately shush me.  "They might hear you," she'll say.  I ask who.  "You know."  I do not know, but she has told me that the phone company messed with her line in 1972 and it hasn't been the same since.  When I ask why they would care what she has to say, she doesn't respond.  That leads me to wonder if Gram was a spy in a former life.

Gram is also terrified of identity theft.  I will call her and she will tell me she's exhausted.  When I ask why she will tell me she spent the day shredding.  She has a $30 shredder in her living room.  She will sit in her recliner and go through every piece of mail that has her name and then place it in the shredder. I gave Gram a book a few years ago for her to fill out.  Under occupation, she listed businesswoman.  She takes her shredding very seriously.

To prove a point, I just called Gram back.  She answered.  "Did you get my message?"  I asked.  "No, the darn phone isn't working," she screamed.  She told me she was on the big phone in her room.   "Maybe when you come home you can fix it," she yelled.  I told her I would.  "I sure hope so."  She told me she had no news.  I told her that I was tired and she said I should go to bed.  At 6:45.  I didn't let her off the hook.  I asked if she ate dinner yet.  She said she did.  I asked what she had and she said, "for what?"  She then told me she has been watching baseball every night.  I asked who her favorite player was.  "I don't know their names, but the Red Sox beat the Jays the other night.  Seven to nothing."  She was right.

There was a moment of silence and she said, "you take care dear.  I look forward to seeing you. Bye now."