Wrong number?

Joshua's cell number used to belong to some low life named Melissa.  I say low-life, because he is plagued by calls from loan and debt collectors who leave messages on his phone, disturb him during school hours, and in general, make pests of themselves. I've taken a few calls to ask them to remove his number from their database (bad idea, since I am a female, and they don't seem to believe I'm not Melissa).  On our side, I keep offering to change his number, but he keeps insisting that I don't. "No. It's o.k.  Everyone has my number, it'd be a hassle to change it."  Sure I'm Mom, and I could just do it for him, but I also respect his desires to not go through the hassle. If it were more than a large annoyance, I'd change it in a heartbeat. 

In reality, I really should have changed it when he got the phone two years ago, but at the time, I figured it would only last a month or two, and after that, they'd get the hint they have the wrong number.  It usually works that way. But we recently figured out, the scum woman is still giving out the number!  Just after the first round of calls had started dying down, Josh suddenly started getting new onslaught of collection calls from different companies.

Today, we were packing up for our last day to sit on the beach, when he answered his phone in a 'Scottish' accent.  The rest of the family became really quiet, nosy even, as we stood looking at him for awhile while he talked to the person on the other side. "No. I have no idea who this Melissa person is," He said, completely in character.  He listened for a few minutes while the person on the other side apologized, and told him she'd note the number was a bad one.

As he hung up, and I said, "What was that all about?"
"The Scottish Accent?" he asked, tucking his phone into his pocket. "I thought I'd mix it up a bit."