Road Apples by Tim Sanders
May 27, 2013
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Phone Phrustrations A few days ago I walked into the kitchen and noticed that Marilyn was on the phone. She was talking, but not making much sense: “Weather,” she said. She paused, and then said it again, only louder. “WEATHER!” (pause) “Go back.” (pause) “GO BACK!” (pause) “Weather.” (pause) “WEATHER! WEATHER!” (pause) “Alabama.” (pause) “Centre.” (long pause) “All right then, GADSDEN!” (pause) “GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK!” (pause) “NOT A BUSINESS! WEATHER! WEATHER! WEATHER!” Then she pressed the “Cancel” button and tossed the phone down, very gently. On the floor. She had a malicious look in her eye. I was curious, to say the least, so she retrieved the phone, dialed a number and handed it to me. Apparently the old 800 number she used to call to check on the weather had been discontinued, and instead people who wanted weather information were given a different number which offered a very long Comcast Business Class Light Speed Internet and Crystal Clear Phone bundling service advertisement, followed by a not quite so long list of categories from which the caller could choose. It was voice activated rather than button activated, and you could select from things like “Government, Residential, Business, Weather, Medical, Professional Wrestling, Livestock Neutering, and Holidays Only Celebrated in Guam.” I said “Weather,” very slowly and distinctly, into the receiver, and was immediately, with lightning speed, connected to the crystal clear “Business” category, and told to say “Go back” if that was incorrect. I did, and so it went, back and forth, and pretty soon I was hopping up and down, screaming “WEATHER, DAMMIT, WEATHER FOR CENTRE, ALABAMA!” into the phone, along with several bad words, which caused the automated voice to say, and I quote: “I'm having trouble with that! Could you select a larger nearby city?” When I selected “GADSDEN,” in tones that could've been understood by the recently deceased, the voice asked what type of business I was looking for. At that point the phone stopped working, because I dropped it on the floor and somehow, through no fault of my own, stomped on it. Several times. I'm not sure, but I believe I heard that little automated voice say “OUCH!” just before the connection died. I do not like telephones much, and I especially dislike answering machines which are designed to confuse and exasperate normal people until they finally give up and allow whatever receptionist is sitting by the phone at her desk to continue applying another coat of makeup while she texts her boyfriend Randy on her cell phone. I also dislike the telemarketers; particularly the ones who call and then ask you to please remain on the line for an important message, and then put you on “hold” for ten minutes. You're never quite sure that they're telemarketers at first, even if you have a Caller ID readout on your phone, because when they call it always reads “Unknown Name, Unknown Number,” just like your cousin Larry's calls always read. The other day I got an unknown name and number telemarketing call. It came at the usual time, when I was in the bathroom. It was a young lady, and although she'd interrupted some very important business, she didn't make me wait. She spoke right up, and as soon as she asked me if I was “TIM-OH-TEE,” I knew she was selling something. I decided to have some fun with her. TELEMARKETER: Is this Tim-oh-tee Sanders? TIM-OH-TEE: That depends. Who's calling? TELEMARKETER: This is Sherry with the Oh Joyous News for Seniors Discount Tropical Holiday– TIM-OH-TEE: Could you speak up a little? TELEMARKETER: This is Sherry with the– TIM-OH-TEE: What's your last name, Sherry? TELEMARKETER: Uh, this is Sherry with the Oh Joyous News for Seniors Discount Tropical Holiday Cruise Plan– TIM-OH-TEE: Are you sure that's your last name? TELEMARKETER [after long pause]: Am I speaking to Tim-oh-tee? TIM-OH-TEE: You tell me your last name, and then I'll tell you my first name. TELEMARKETER [another long pause]: Uh, Smith. My last name it is Smith. TIM-OH-TEE: You just made that up, didn't you, Sherry? TELEMARKETER: Oh no sir. My mother is Filipino, and my father is American. Is this Tim-oh-tee? TIM-OH-TEE: In that case, yes it is. Where are you calling from, Sherry? TELEMARKETER: I am calling from the Oh Joyous News for Seniors– TIM-OH-TEE: I am not a senior. I was held back in the third grade. Twice. TELEMARKETER: Not a senior citizen? TIM-OH-TEE: Of course I'm a citizen. Speaking of which, where are you calling from? TELEMARKETER: I am in (pause) Utah. TIM-OH-TEE: What town? TELEMARKETER (after a really long pause): The city with the Lake of Salt. Could I speak to your wife? TIM-OH-TEE: My wife? She's a mean woman. Yesterday she threw Carl over the back fence, and I haven't heard from him since. TELEMARKETER: Did anyone call police to find your friend? TIM-OH-TEE: Carl's not exactly my friend, only my tomcat. She was jealous because I pet him sometimes, but never pet her. Once she got our parakeet off the curtain rod with the vacuum cleaner, and there were feathers all– TELEMARKETER: Sir, are you interested in our Oh Joyous News for Seniors Discount Tropical Holiday Promotion? TIM-OH-TEE: Commotion? We've got plenty of commotion going on around here, what with my wife and the cats and– TELEMARKETER: No sir, that is “promotion.” TIM-OH-TEE: AHA! PROMOTION! Well Sherry, if anyone ever deserved a promotion, it's you. Let me tell you about the time my snake Leonard swallowed my wife's brand new Bostitch stapler and how she used a Deluxe Gopher Extension Tool and a bucket of ice water to get that stapler back before Leonard's digestive juices went to work and– I would have continued, but Sherry Smith, or whatever her name was, hung up. She obviously had other prospective Joyous Seniors sitting on their commodes, just chomping at the bit to take one of her Tropical Holiday Cruises. My theory is that when you tell them not to call again and they persist in calling anyway, your best move is to waste enough of their time so that they'll make a note not to ever call your number again because time is money, and when they waste all that time on the phone with you, they're losing it. Money, I mean. |