I’ve been bored a few times in my life – bored enough at one point to play quarter bounce with coffee at 6 a.m. with a bunch of other people too bored and brain dead to leave the office.

I’ve also compulsively dialed the phone a dozen or more times, usually when some scoundrel had stood me up for a date.

I’m pretty sure, though, that I’ve never called an elderly lady – any elderly lady, let alone my grandmother – 20 times in a span of a few minutes while the police stood in her house after I’d scared the crap out of her all day long.

Angel Marie Rawls’ excuse: She and a friend were bored and wanted to have some fun.

She’ll now have fun facing felonies that include harassment, terroristic threats and stalking, according to the St. Paul Pioneer Press. The charges could carry 10 years in prison.

In all, Rawls called her grandmother 45 times in one day. She said she didn’t know the calls and death threats were illegal. And thanks to the marvels of cellular technology, she didn’t even have to sit waiting by the phone to keep calling – she could do it on the road as well.

The only thing more unusual than the 45 calls in this situation is that the police intervened. Usually phone companies don’t even give a flip – why should they when they can wait until you get frustrated enough to change your phone number, then they can charge you for a new one.

That’s what happened with me about 15 years ago, when my phone number ended in 4355.

“Hey! Did you know your phone number spells ‘hell’ ” a perky teen voice asked about midnight.

At that hour, I really didn’t care what my phone number spelled. I didn’t care the next seven nights when she called, and I cared even less when she started getting crude about it.

Yes, I started turning off my phone after her first nightly call – but that was a solution that meant the burden was on me for solving the problem she was causing.

Can you trace the calls? I asked the phone company.

Sure, if you want to pay a fee.

Can you change the number?

Yes, and that will cost you as well.

I changed the number.

I wouldn’t quite put my bored teen in the same category as the bored 21-year-old Minnesotan. But I wouldn’t have minded seeing the cops knock on her door with a charge or two of harassment.

These are no single-shot “do you have Prince Albert in a can” calls. These are hateful and mean.

Prison time probably isn’t the solution here – there are enough people behind bars for nonviolent crimes as it is – but neither is ignoring bullies.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

Similar Posts:

None Found

Popularity: 1% [?]