Bucket List: Mole’s Easily Attainable Goals #4


I can’t believe telemarketing is still a thing, even the name seems outdated, a relic from the 80s. But, sadly for us, it’s still around. I used to feel sorry for telemarketers. I used to imagine them cowering at their desks while a stern overseer polices the aisles to make sure they’re always either talking or dialing.  Those poor, sallow headset wearing stooges!

Not anymore. I hate how they always fumble with my last name -tripping over Miss, Mr. or Mrs. Hey, you called me, remember?

When the phone rings and I hear the familiar din of muffled voices in the background, I quickly turn into my mother. I overarticulate: “and who is calling please?”  I cut them off,  exhaling “not interested!” as I slam the phone down.

It gets a little tiring, frankly.

Now what I long to do is get a telemarketer to hang up on me.

I hope our conversation goes something like this:

Telemarketer: Hello may I speak to Mrs. Bo–

Me: Mrs.?! Mrs.?! That’s a joke and a half. Honey, I’m single. Actually sugar, I’m divorced. Where did you get the idea that I was a Mrs.?! Baby, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a man? Do you know that at my age the men are all bald, paunchy and dressed in pleated shorts? Who is this anyhow?

Telemarketer: My name is Damian–

Me: Like the devil? Damian Omen I? Is your name three syllables or two, like that Wayans brother? What do you think happened to him anyway? Last thing I heard he was in a movie where he was a grown man acting like a baby. Now that’s a family of brothers. I like Kenan myself…

Telemarketer: Excuse me ma’am, but the reason…

Me: Oh sweetheart, I liked you better when you called me Mrs.! Ma’am? Do I sound that matronly to you?

Telemarketer: No, not at all. I am just trying to be polite–

Me: I appreciate that. I just got back from a trip to the South and I couldn’t believe how polite the people were down there. I feel that we’re really missing that up here. Do you know what a nightmare it is to take the bus and have people poking and jabbing at you, shoving their bags in your face. I cannot stand this lack of courtesy. I simply cannot stand it. How do you feel about it? Oh…wait… can you hold on a second, something is coming to a boil on the stove–

Telemarketer: If this is a bad time, I would be happy to—

Me: No, no! Just hang on a second. I’m trying this new recipe. There.

Telemarketer: Ma’am?

Me: I put you on speaker phone. You’re going to have to speak up. Can you hear me?

Telemarketer: Yes, I can hear you. The reason for—-

Me: Oh yes, you were going to tell me the reason for your call. Darn it. This is not looking good. The girl at the shop said this is an “Anicent Peruvian grain” I don’t know about these–

Telemarketer: So, I want to ask you if you’re satisfied—

Me: Oh Damon, the smoke alarm! Hang on, would you?

Telemarketer: Hello? Ma’am?


Dial tone

End scene.

This could take a while, but this is something I’m desperate to accomplish before I check out.

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