Telemarketers, Wherefore Art Thou?
by Karen Williams - Oviedo Voice - Jan. 9, 2004
Call me odd. Call me strange. Call me part of the lunatic fringe. (And call me for supper, while you’re at it.) But I confess: I miss the telemarketers. I may be the only person in the civilized world with this desire, but I hope to remove my name from the do-not-call registry.
It seemed to make perfect sense a few months ago: Sign up on the registry via phone or Internet so that telemarketers will be legally prohibited from telemarketing--at least via my telephone. The action was akin to putting signs on one’s phone line: “Do Not Disturb,” “No Trespassing,” and “Beware of Dog-ged Gov’t Officials Who Will Have Your Hide if You Let Your Fingers Do the Walking in My Direction.” There would be no more interrupted meals. No more rushing from the shower at breakneck speed to learn I’ve been approved for a Bank of Bunketsville credit card with a percentage rate of 39.9%
But I discovered, as with so many aspects of life, there are pluses and minuses.
I now find I desperately miss the unbounded, melodic cheerfulness that is the hallmark of the telemarketing profession: “Well, hello there, Ms. Williams! And how might you be today? Wonderful, I sure hope!” Some of us can go decades and never hear a fraction of such interest or joy on the lips of a family member.
I also miss the opportunity to practice my sales resistance AND my manners--to patiently listen to a telemarketer’s spiel and then politely refuse without hanging up early or ripping off a spiel of expletives at the hapless caller. Sometimes it’s fun simply to surprise the dickens out of someone, including yourself.
I miss the daily if not hourly reminder that countless people out there in telemarketer land have a job even more thankless and frustrating than mine. (Raising a teenager, for openers.)
Most of all, I miss the chance to impress guests when a telemarketer phones. One interaction during a dinner party went something like this:
“Hello, Ms. Williams. I hope with everything that’s in me that you’re having a great day! This is Larry with the Cloak-and-Swagger Book Club, and we’re currently offering ten thrillers for a dollar if you sign up for life.”
“Oh, hello, Gov. Bush,” I replied. “Yes, I’d be delighted to attend a ceremony to honor distinguished Floridians.”
“I’m sorry???” the puzzled telemarketer responded.
“Oh, no need to be sorry,” I asserted. “I couldn’t have made it to that previous ceremony anyhow. I was tied up with some international banking issues.”
My guests gazed at me with newfound admiration, even adoration. The telemarketer uttered a frantic “Hello, hello? Can we have the first twenty digits of your credit card puh-LEEZE?”
“My number?” I answered. “Oh, certainly, please feel free to give my number to your brother. And if he leaves a message on voice mail, I’ll try to get back to him in a timely fashion.”
“Was that REALLY Gov. Bush on the phone?” one dazzled guest queried after I hung up.
“What do you think--that I was chatting with a TELEMARKETER or something?” I asked in disbelief.
We all laughed and slapped our knees at such an absurd thought. The telemarketers may not get a lot of respect, but I did, thanks to businesses like Cloak-and-Swagger.
Gosh, I miss ’em.
Copyright 2004, Karen Williams
