Most of you probably remember that I recently got a home phone. I know you remember that because I know that you all hang on to my every word and commit all my posts to memory. Pretty much immediately after it was installed (immediately being 10 minutes give or take), I started getting telemarketer calls. I proceeded to do what any well-adjusted woman would do – no I did NOT call them back and tell them they had called a crime scene and needed to come down to the FBI for questioning. What do you take me for? Some kind of whacko? No, I went online to my state’s attorney general’s website (did I actually get all those apostrophes correct?) and signed up for his famous Do Not Call list. I’m not real sure why I rushed to do it since the website proclaimed that my request would be processed sometime in October. What the heck? 4 months to make the calls stop?! Oh yeah, I forgot. Our state government is too busy regulating microchips that aren’t even invented yet to update the do not call list more than twice per year. It was obvious that, as usual, it was up to me to take matters into my own hands.
I was very annoyed until I realized that this was perhaps my best chance to make a significant contribution to society (besides my blog, of course). That’s when I made my amazing discovery.
Telemarketers are really really fun to mess with. Be careful, we don’t want this to get around or else everyone will start messing with them and they might quit calling. Then how will I entertain myself on a Monday night? It’s not like there’s anything worth watching on television.
Telemarketer: Good evening. Might I speak with Mr. or Mrs. [significant butchering of my last name]?
Me: Why?
Telemarketer: This is an important call for Mr. or Mrs. [significant butchering of my last name].
Me: Well, why didn’t you say so? This is Mr. or Mrs. [last name].
Telemarketer: This is Chris with Honeywell Security. How are you doing Mrs. [slightly better version of my last name but still pretty well butchered]?
Me: Kind of crappy actually. The hot water heater went out last week and I don’t have the money to fix it because my bank account got cleaned out by secret Bush Administration operatives in order to fund the CIA summer ball and soiree’. So, when I went to the bank to get my money back, they told me that they are unable to process my request until October because they have to wait for the secret Bush Administration operatives to re-imburse them and we all know how long it takes the government to do anything. So then I called the Bush Administration to see if the president could perhaps issue me a PO number so I could get paid and he said that he could not do that because my money was being held in escrow so that the government could keep its eye on my blog traffic and … are you still there, Chris?
Telemarketer: Yes, I’m here. The reason I called is that I am working with homeowners in your area. Are you a homeowner?
Me: Why? Are you from the government? Are you infiltrating my phone line? Oh no! I’ve said too much already! Tell the President to give me my money! Good day, Chris!
Telemarketer: No, I’m just calling to see if you would be interested in a home security system…
Me: Isn’t that just like you people? You don’t even try to be sneaky! Now you’re just being so obvious about spying on me that it is plumb insulting! Seriously. Can’t you come up with anything better than that?! Hello? Hello, Chris? Are you there?
Mi Vida Azar 