A second lieutenant I work with was transferring jobs within our building, and needed to clear the switch at an absurdly high level, which involved him making several phone calls a day to Air Force Personnel Command headquarters in San Antonio, Texas. Some other LT's in the branch, realizing that he had no idea exactly who had the authority to sign off on his form, left him an inscrutable note in cryptic handwriting. All that was legible was "AFPC headquarters -- Colonel Sanders -- (210)-366-4827". The lieutenant, relieved that someone was actually taking the initiative to return his calls, but terrified because it was an O-6, didn't think twice, and called the number.
"Hello?"
"Hello, San Antonio {garble garble español}?"
"Hi, can I speak to Colonel Sanders? This is Lieutenant name withheld."
"{unintelligible}?"
"Colonel Sanders, please? I'll talk to your supervisor--maybe he can help."
"One moment."
NEW VOICE: "Hello, how can I help you, sir?"
"I'm trying to get a hold of Colonel Sanders, please."
"Sir, do you mean the manager?"
"Well, I'd like to speak to the Colonel. Colonel Sanders, please."
"Ah... well, um. I'm the manager here. Colonel Sanders is our, um, founder."
{{light bulb goes on}}
"I see. Thank you."
{{click.}}
He spent the next ten minutes swearing loudly up and down the aisles of the cube farm while we all had a good laugh at his expense. He was quite the good sport, and between the "God Damn!"s and the "Piece of..."s, he kept saying, "Okay, you got me. You got me good."
Phone numbers have been changed for my own completely capricious purposes.