Pondering with P.J.: The terrors of telemarketers

There are times when it is extremely difficult for me to “Just Say No” and most of those occasions usually have one or more grandchildren in the equation. I’m a pushover in most cases, but when I am called by a telemarketer, I go from warm and fuzzy to Attila the Hun!
If I get a call while I’m preparing the evening meal it better be from: 1. A close and devoted relative; 2. A close and devoted friend; or 3. Someone who wants to give me money, devotion not necessary. If it is a telemarketer, it isn’t going to be a very fun time for either one of us.
How many ways can I say, “No, I can’t send your candidate any money? I don’t care if he or she is the answer to World Peace, what part of ‘I don’t want to send you any money, don’t you understand?’” After about the third go around I very forcefully say, “No, thank you,” and hang up.
So, one night last week, the Spouse took a pre-dinnertime call. This is the man who barely communicates with his next of kin. As I’m putting the finishing touches on the night’s gourmet meal by throwing a hand full of shredded cheese over something that resembled a vegetable, he’s chit-chatting. At first I thought the caller was one of our offspring, but he usually doesn’t pace up and down the hallway when he talks to them.
After about five minutes I realized, HE’S TALKING TO A TELEMARKETER!
I almost blew a valve! I felt like yelling, “Your mother says you have to get off the phone now!”
As it turned out he didn’t agree to give them any contribution to their political cause, but he was very sorry he couldn’t and maybe another time he could. That explains why I get those calls from some floozy who wants to speak with Mr. Jaquish. When I say he’s not in and could I take a message, the tramp says there is no message and she’ll call back another time! I just don’t know how much more of that sort of thing I can take.
Oh well, life goes on. It’s getting to be almost as bad trying to get away from a cashier in a department store. They are always very pleasant but can’t they just take my money and that be that? Oh no, now they have a battery of questions to ask and, like a dope, I usually respond with the right answers.
“Could I have your email address, please?” I wanted to say NO, but I gave it to her.
“Could I have your phone number please, area code first?” I rattled it off
“Would you like to put this on your charge card today?”
“No. Don’t have one.”
“Would you like to apply for a charge card today and receive 10 percent off on all your purchases?”
“No, I’d like to pay for this stuff and get out of the store before I need another dye job!”
Again, most of those cashiers are very nice, but I could qualify for a zero-down home mortgage in the time it takes to check out with my case of Depends, month supply of Northern toilet paper and the latest edition of the National Enquirer.
It’s just a sign of the times. I’m always in a hurry, but it doesn’t seem to make much difference in the length of time it takes to get a task accomplished. It almost seems like I’m a replica of that old man Tim Conway portrayed…shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, and barely move, but I think I’m in a hurry.
Life is so uncertain. That’s why I always eat desert first!
As usual, P.J.
Pj646@centurytel.net
Author of “Uncommon Sense”

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Posted by Pauline Jaquish

Pauline Jaquish is the author of “Uncommon Sense.” You can reach her at Pj646@centurytel.net.

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