Margie
Brrrring, brrrring.
unknown caller: Hello, is this Lauren Reilly?
me/Becky/Lauren: Yes. Who is this?
unknown, about to be known caller: This is Soinso Soinso calling from Someplace, Ohio, where it is really cold.
We'll call her "Margie" because I can't for the life of me remember her name, which is no doubt an alcohol induced type of amnesia or aphasia.
Margie: How are things where you are, Lauren?
She did not just try to engage me shooting the breeze about the weather.
me: Oh, really cold here as well, Margie.
She had opened the door to first name familiarity, kinda the tu/vous thing. I was gonna roll with it.
The whole weather thing irritates me somewhat because I actually really do enjoy talking about all things meteorological. I think it plays a huge role in people's everyday outlook, attitude in general, whether or not I decide to venture outdoors for a ride or hide under the covers while my S.A.D. tightens its grip. So when absolute strangers inquire, it amounts to, well, just talking about the weather. And I take it personally. I know. It's a head case thing. I need to lighten up.
She announced herself as a representative for Wine Enthusiast, a periodical I have gotten off and on for a few years, and it wasn't much of a mental jump for me to realize her call was a re-upping attempt which I had no interest in whatsoever. I'll spend my 39.99+tax another way this year, probably on 5 more bottles of wine; 750 ml for 8 bucks is pretty good. I'm simply in the wrong tax bracket for any other sort of mind altering substances, and really, heroin probably doesn't complement pasta as well as a bold red.
Anyhow. I assured her I had very much enjoyed the magazine, found it informative and most helpful in some purchases. This is actually not true because really I'm just not all that picky, even found a very acceptable French red that comes avec screw top. I don't know why I felt the need to make her believe her product had been so useful to me. Maybe I was sympathizing with the dismal telephone relatedosity of her cold call job. Dunno.
At this point I politely declined her offer for me to pay W.E. four easy installments over the next 12 months. You buy your house paying in installments. A plasma TV. Repay school loans. Contribute to your kid's college fund, etc. I can't imagine why this would be a selling point. If my cash flow is so much at situation critical that I have to amortize a wine mag, I really shouldn't be spending the money there.
Still, not wanting to seem rude or make her crappy job feel crappier, I told her I had indeed been a very enthusiastic Wine Enthusiast, but I was going to have to pass this time. She told me she understood.
We both thank you'd, wished each other warmer days and ended our brief, yet well-mannered phone solicitation experience. Margie even chuckled upon hanging up. Whew, I hadn't been a bitch. It's always a crap shoot.
Coulda been much worse. On really dreary, cloudy days, I'm downright carnivorous. Phone rings, and at the instant I see where the call is going, with ample tone in my voice, I ask how they got my number because I am supposedly on the "no call" list, the efficacy of which apparently leaves a lot to be desired.
It's a sucky job to have - calling absolute strangers and hoping to overcome every objection they throw out, and somehow win over a person with a fork in their mouth mid meal. Yes, a super sucky job. But this morning I was just drinking tea and updating the blogiverse, so I wasn't at all in hostile-lady-crouching-tiger-hidden-dragon mode. Sure, I was more or less ambivalent about the mag, but I shouldn't be part of Margie's crappy day of calling folks.
Have a great day, Margie. Cheers
unknown caller: Hello, is this Lauren Reilly?
me/Becky/Lauren: Yes. Who is this?
unknown, about to be known caller: This is Soinso Soinso calling from Someplace, Ohio, where it is really cold.
We'll call her "Margie" because I can't for the life of me remember her name, which is no doubt an alcohol induced type of amnesia or aphasia.
Margie: How are things where you are, Lauren?
She did not just try to engage me shooting the breeze about the weather.
me: Oh, really cold here as well, Margie.
She had opened the door to first name familiarity, kinda the tu/vous thing. I was gonna roll with it.
The whole weather thing irritates me somewhat because I actually really do enjoy talking about all things meteorological. I think it plays a huge role in people's everyday outlook, attitude in general, whether or not I decide to venture outdoors for a ride or hide under the covers while my S.A.D. tightens its grip. So when absolute strangers inquire, it amounts to, well, just talking about the weather. And I take it personally. I know. It's a head case thing. I need to lighten up.
She announced herself as a representative for Wine Enthusiast, a periodical I have gotten off and on for a few years, and it wasn't much of a mental jump for me to realize her call was a re-upping attempt which I had no interest in whatsoever. I'll spend my 39.99+tax another way this year, probably on 5 more bottles of wine; 750 ml for 8 bucks is pretty good. I'm simply in the wrong tax bracket for any other sort of mind altering substances, and really, heroin probably doesn't complement pasta as well as a bold red.
Anyhow. I assured her I had very much enjoyed the magazine, found it informative and most helpful in some purchases. This is actually not true because really I'm just not all that picky, even found a very acceptable French red that comes avec screw top. I don't know why I felt the need to make her believe her product had been so useful to me. Maybe I was sympathizing with the dismal telephone relatedosity of her cold call job. Dunno.
At this point I politely declined her offer for me to pay W.E. four easy installments over the next 12 months. You buy your house paying in installments. A plasma TV. Repay school loans. Contribute to your kid's college fund, etc. I can't imagine why this would be a selling point. If my cash flow is so much at situation critical that I have to amortize a wine mag, I really shouldn't be spending the money there.
Still, not wanting to seem rude or make her crappy job feel crappier, I told her I had indeed been a very enthusiastic Wine Enthusiast, but I was going to have to pass this time. She told me she understood.
We both thank you'd, wished each other warmer days and ended our brief, yet well-mannered phone solicitation experience. Margie even chuckled upon hanging up. Whew, I hadn't been a bitch. It's always a crap shoot.
Coulda been much worse. On really dreary, cloudy days, I'm downright carnivorous. Phone rings, and at the instant I see where the call is going, with ample tone in my voice, I ask how they got my number because I am supposedly on the "no call" list, the efficacy of which apparently leaves a lot to be desired.
It's a sucky job to have - calling absolute strangers and hoping to overcome every objection they throw out, and somehow win over a person with a fork in their mouth mid meal. Yes, a super sucky job. But this morning I was just drinking tea and updating the blogiverse, so I wasn't at all in hostile-lady-crouching-tiger-hidden-dragon mode. Sure, I was more or less ambivalent about the mag, but I shouldn't be part of Margie's crappy day of calling folks.
Have a great day, Margie. Cheers
posted by becky at 11:30 AM
<< Home