Ah…the Telemarketer’s Life
December 16, 2004I get a call today. My caller ID says I have no clue who this number is. What the heck, I answer it anyway.
Legion: Hello? It’s your dime.
Voice: Hello, Michael?
Legion: Yup, that’d be moi.
Voice: I’m Samantha calling from publishers. I’m not calling to sell you anything or to ask for any information but I just wanted to let you know that the subscriptions on your magazines have been extended for 60 months and no one has told you yet. Our computers let us know that you are a special customer and it tells us to extend all your subscriptions for 60 months…”
Legion: Hold on a minute. What subscriptions?
Voice: The subscriptions for your magazines.
Legion: What magazines?
Voice: All of the one’s you receive in the mail.
Legion: Wait, I get all of my subscriptions extended? Which subscriptions?
Voice: All of them.
Legion: Ehhhhh, wrong answer. What magazines specifically. Tell me what magazines I’m getting.
Voice: All of the one’s you receive in the mail.
Let’s pause here, shall we? Aside from the obvious, I started feeling sorry for this ‘Samantha.’ I mean, here she has to make a living and do her job just like everyone else in the world and yet the maudlin, laconic primates at her company give her a script that thinks innuendo is the greatest marketing tool since television. Seriously, look at it. Everything is pathetically vague. She can’t even give me the name of one of the magazines! And the company is just called ‘publishers.’ Not Publishers clearing house, just publishers. Not Star Publishers or Moon Publishers or anything, just publishers. My new business I’ve decided is going to be ‘hot dog stand.’ Not Legion’s Hot Dog Stand. Not Legion’s Massive Hot Dog Stand, just ‘hot dog stand.’ That way, people like Mindcri…er…C.J., the artist formerly known as Mindcrime will shop there.
Legion: You know, the script they gave you is garbage. You’re trying to snag me on something and you can’t give any specific. You wanna try again?
Voice: Sir, the other department can tell you the magazines.
Legion: The…other…department? Oh for crying out loud.
Voice: Yes, sir, they have that information.
Legion: What department?
Three guess what she says here and the first two don’t count becuase you’re now on the Island.
Voice: The other department.
Legion: Okay, ma’am, sorry to drop this bomb on you becuase I’m sure you’ll find it comes as a complete surprise but whatever you’re selling or pushing, I ain’t interested, comprende?
Voice: Thank you very much, sir.
Click.
Whoa, wait, back up there. She just hung up on me? SHE hung up on ME?
I haven’t had a telemarketer call in forever. I was actually trying to be relatively polite in turning her down and telling her she wasn’t going to make her paycheck quota with me and then she hangs up on me.
I feel sorry for the next telemarketer who calls.
bwahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!
“Legion’s Hot Dog Stand.”
Fuck acting, man. Screw all that WWF muscleman shit you’re into now. Sell hot dogs on a street corner in downtown Durham!
I like to sing showtunes to the hapless telemarketing drones. I urge them to sing along. They never have.
A lot of times, their system prevents them from hanging up on you themselves and they must get a supervisor to hang up for them. What I’ll do is say:
“Hang on a minute,”
then set the phone down and walk away. Check back every 10 minutes or so.
“Still there?”
“Yes sir, can I ask you…”
“Oh, hang on a minute.”
Repeat until either they manage to hang up or until adequetely amused.