. . . I'll call you!
Last night as I walked into the kitchen after agility class, the phone started ringing. It was 9:15 p.m. At our house, "late" phone calls like this usually mean something is on fire or on the loose. They occasionally mean the renters at our property just up the road forgot to fill the fuel oil tanks and their furnace quit and would The Farmer please come fix it because it's -28 outside. (I guess it never crosses their minds to check the fuel level until it's obvious there isn't any. Whatever.) Since it was 58 degrees and raining, I doubted it was the renters.
Anticipating some sort of impending disaster involving fire or errant cattle, I grabbed up the phone and an obvious non-native speaker of English asked for me. It was a telemarketer.
My blood was boiling! I HATE telemarketers. We're on the no-call list but hey, if you have established a "relationship" with a business they can call you anyway and believe me, they do. My credit card company calls incessantly with this promotion or that offer. Does anyone really want to sign up for a consumer protection plan at 9:15 at night? They win the oblivious award for ignoring the fact I've refused every single one of their offers for years and years but yet they keep calling. Hope springs eternal.
"Where are you calling from?" I asked. What I should have asked was, "What business are you calling from?" because after a moment's hesitation, the telemarketer said, rather timidly, "India."
India? Freaking INDIA?
"Do you have ANY IDEA what time it is here?" I asked.
Pause. Silence.
"No. I'm sorry ma'am. So sorry, ma'am."
"If you want to do business with us, call during business hours. Not the middle of the night!" I hung up. Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly the middle of the night but hey, she didn't know that. And she can call back all she wants during "business hours." Unless Jamie starts answering the phone or The Farmer picks up the extension in the machine shed, she's not likely to get an answer.
Good grief. Whatever happened to calling at a reasonable hour? Of course, I think a reasonable hour for telemarketers is half past never but that's just my opinion.
Grumble. Grumble. Grumble. At least nothing was on fire and no need for a rodeo. I'm going back to letting the machine pick up from now on.
I have the perfect telemarketer deterrent... a gadget from Radio Shack called The Zapper. It plugs in to a phone jack, and when you pick up your phone, it plays that three-toned sound that you get when you call a number that has been disconnected. It foils computer-generated calls because the telemarketer computer is set to automatically take a # off its list when it "hears" those tones. You will have to explain what it is to your human callers but it's definitely worth it!!!
ReplyDeleteDebbie
Oh I HATE that!
ReplyDeleteWhat drives me crazy is that, of course they're calling from India, you can tell as soon as they start speaking.
So why, when they introduce themselves, do they have the most English names you can think of? Do you know how many Mary Smiths must work for these companies?