One of the most complicated things about living in Battle Ground has got to be explaining over and over to people about my phone number.

You see, for some reason someone somewhere decided that the new prefix in Battle Ground should be 666. Yep, you read that right. 666.

Now for some people this number carries many connotations, including but not limited to being associated with the devil, the number of the beast, satanic activity, and all sorts of other unsavory things. For others, it’s merely the number some naughty kid had tattooed on his head in an old horror flick. But in either case, it’s not good.

In fact, you can tell how long a person has lived in Battle Ground based solely upon their phone number. Folks who have been here for some time have a 687 number. Those who came after I did have 667. But me, I got stuck with 666.

When I realized this was going to be the case I called the telephone company and asked would I possible be able to keep my old Hockinson number? You know the noncontroversial and completely benign 944 one?
“Nope,” I was told. “Simply not possible.”

“Well,” I asked. “Any chance of getting someone’s old 687 number they aren’t using anymore?”
“Nope, you will have 666 and that is the end of it,” was the reply.

So much for customer service. I have a feeling now that land lines are going the way of the dinosaur, perhaps they might be slightly more accommodating today. Or not.

Before saying goodbye to the unhelpful and if I may say so, rather unsympathetic, telephone employee, I briefly contemplated citing religious objections, threatening to sue, maybe even throwing a hissy fit. But then I realized perhaps this was just a cross I had to bear.

Sometimes I ponder how this ever could have happened — this oversight to the nth degree. Perhaps it was a computer generated idea? Or someone who wasn’t versed in the dark side didn’t realize what they were doing when they made the decision? Or perhaps a disgruntled employee thought it would be funny to see what would happen? I’ll never know.
For the most part people around here have gotten past the initial shock of seeing 666 pop up on their caller ID. Repeated exposure to anything can take away the novelty, I suppose.

But try explaining it to a new business client who lives in San Francisco or New York. It’s truly a bizarre conversation.
First, there’s the audible gasp, followed by the inevitable, “Can you repeat that?” then the awkward silence. At this point I usually clip something along the lines of, “Yep that’s right, apparently I am calling from hell,” or some other semi-humorous explanation. Usually they laugh and that’s the end of it. Every now and then they’ll crack some hell joke back, or maybe even start singing a few bars from that old Motley Crue song that had parents so up in arms during the 80s.

But still, come on phone company. 666? Really? It’s like staying on the 13th floor of a hotel. Or worse, actually, because at least that’s only for one night. Apparently, I’ll likely have this 666 number for the rest of my life, if the phone company has anything to say about it.

In fact, when I caught wind of the possibility of getting a new 667 number after I was several years into this 666 business, I called once again only to be told, “No, that’s only for people who live within the city limits.”
Humph!

I don’t know what to say except Battle Ground really is quite a nice place. I have not noticed any increased paranormal activity, bumps in the night, pentagrams carved into sidewalks, suspicious nefarious activity, or even much out of the ordinary at all.

So I suppose if I look on the bright side, it’s a unique conversation starter and well, something I share in common with many, many others who are lucky enough to live here in Battle Ground. I think I can safely speak for all of us when I say, “Having a phone number that starts with 666 is hell.”

Michele Bloomquist is a contributor to The Voice and a freelance writer who resides in the Battle Ground area. You can reach her at michelebloomquist@gmail.com.