Cheap Entertainment

If you were to ask, most people would agree that uninvited sales calls should be a federal offense, the penalty for which would be listening to rap music for 36 hours straight at a volume that would make the noise from a shuttle launch sound like a Lawrence Welk concert.

Now, I know we have the “no call” list and in my opinion it’s one of the greatest things government has done since raising the speed limit back to 70 mph on the interstate.

But where’s the fun in being on that list? Besides, being the sneaky little boogers that they are, “cold” callers continue to find ways around the law: “survey” calls—they tell you they’re taking a survey, which somehow mysteriously winds up being a sales call by the end of the survey; the “This is so and so with such and such company, returning your call (of course, you’ve never heard of the company let alone called them),” or they call you on your cell phone, which evidently isn’t covered under the “no call” list.

But I have an amusing way of striking back that can provide many a fun filled minute of entertainment. I call it my annoy the annoyer strategy, and it’s so much fun because for them time is money--the faster make a sell the more money they make per hour, and wasting time on a call that’s going know where is like digging a dry well, it’s nonproductive. Think about the following scenario for a minute and I’m sure you’ll get my drift.

You’re dozing away in bed, in the middle of one of the best dreams you’ve had in a long time, when suddenly you’re rudely jolted awake by the ringing of your phone.

It’s a sales call, and 0nce you finally get the guy’s name and the company he represents out of him, do what I do.

“Hello,” I say in a tone of voice that gives the caller more than a hint that he’d just awakened me from a deep sleep.

“Hi Doug [don’t you hate it when they call you by your first name, as if you’re life-long buds. It makes me want to stuff mini-Tootsie Rolls up his nose]. “How ya doing this morning?”

“Uh. . .”

“This is Phil Potlicker with the ALMOST A DISASTER HOME IMPROVEMENT STORE. The reason I’m calling is we’re offering 20% off all of our products this month to all homeowners because we care.”

“Yeah, that’s nice. I don’t need anything right now. . .”

“Are ya sure? We’ve got. . .”

“Say, you ought to call my uncle Tuck. Really his name is Tucson, but we call him Tuc for short.”
“Good for him.”

“Yeah, actually he’s owned several homes, all on the same lot, what with the fire, the tornado, the floods and all.”

“Hmmm. That’s interesting. But what I need to know is do you. . .”

“Say, you don’t sell insurance too do ya? Uncle Tuck could sure use some. His last insurance company dropped him. They told him. . .”

“Well, that’s all very interesting, but the reason for my call is to. . .”

“You know, you really should contact my uncle. After hurricane Happy Bottom, I mean Gladys—little family joke there—he needs all the home improvement stuff you have.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Of course, you’ll have to wait ‘til he’s allowed to leave the asylum. Poor guy, the last disaster just broke his spirit all to pieces.”

Click!

Works like a charm.

Yes, sales calls are annoying, and they seem to always come at the most inconvenient time (as if there’s ever a convenient time for them to come), when you’re sleeping, reading, half way out the door and running late, hovered over the commode regurgitating breakfast due to the flu, or when you’re about to use the bathroom because your bladder is so full your back teeth are floating. And I’ll admit I’ve been tempted to put my name on the “no call” list like so many people have done, but that’s like taking Beano before participating in a chili eating contest. It takes the fun out of the whole experience, and hey, a guy’s got to have a little entertainment now and then, doesn’t he?