The phone rings and when you answer some gorilla on the other end asks:
"Is Bob there?"
"No, I'm sorry." (There's our first mistake. Why should we be sorry for them dialling the wrong number?) "You must have the wrong number."
"Aw shit, you sure?"
At this point you feel like yelling down the phone that of course you're sure, it's your fucking house, and that you know that there is no one called Bob fuckin' livin' here.
Instead you say:
"I'm sorry (again). Maybe you have the wrong area code," and hang up, only to be interrupted five minutes later by the same asshole who's convinced you're in the wrong house.