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February 11th, 2004


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08:21 pm - No means no.
I know it's a good way to make money between your freshman and sophomore years of college, but fercryinoutloud kids, if I tell you that I'm happy with my long distance service, chances are I'll still be happy with it tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after -- well, let's just say I'll be happy with it every day except the one on which I pay the bill. No, scratch that. We don't even have a long distance service, and we're cancelling our phone service altogether soon, so I'm pretty good with what I already (don't plan to) have.

This doesn't stop SBC from calling us every night to mispronouce Sean's last name and ask if he'd like to switch to their service.

At first I just said that he wasn't home (since he works 2nd shift), hung up, and left it at that. When the calls got more frequent though (such as this week, when it's been every friggin' night), I started getting cocky:

Me: Sorry, he's not home right now. Can I take a message?
Them: Thank you, there is no message. I'll ju--
Me: What, did you get lonely and pick his name at random out of the phone book?

This of course, got nothing more than an "I'm sorry, sir. *Click*" Telling them that he was dead didn't stop the calls either. Back when I lived at my parents' house, I had this scripted schtick that I'd always use on military recruiters:

Me: You know, I'm already going to school, but there is something I'd like to discuss.
Them: Sure. Whatever we can help you with.
Me: I've always had this... I dunno... This silly little fantasy that perhaps you could help me act out.
Them: ...
Me: Yeah, um, I've always loved The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I've always wanted to serenade someone over the phone with the theme song, Science Fiction Double Feature. Thing is, there isn't a, well, the special lady in my life right now doesn't like Rocky Horror, and I just know that you, being a military man, are probably a big fan. So: Michael Rennie was ill the day the Earth stood still...

They ususally stayed on the line through at least the first verse, and once the guy waited until I was done and said "very nice." I didn't know what to do, so I hung up. In hindsight, singing SFDF to military recruiters probably was not a good idea, but this was back in the final year or so of the Clinton administration, so I'm sure my name went into the Potential Nutjob file, and not the Potential Lounge Singer/Terrorist file (note to self: strike "nutjob" and change it to "fruitcake." We're not in the business of making Clinton jokes here).

Anyway, I'm running out of responses for telemarketers. I've already berated them for interrupting my evening of intense masturbation ("MEMO 01/15/04 20:33 : CUSTOMER ENGAGED IN SELF-PLEASURE. WILL CALL BACK ON 02/11/04.") and telling them that we don't have a phone illicits no response at all. What's the next step?
Current Mood: pissed offpissed off
Current Music: The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets -- One-Gilled Girl

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Comments:


[User Picture]
From:devianttouch
Date:February 12th, 2004 04:03 am (UTC)
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Ask them if they've found Jesus. If they have ask where he is so you can kick his ass for the dope he stole from you.
[User Picture]
From:sacredspud
Date:February 12th, 2004 04:17 am (UTC)
(Link)
"Hey, have you found Jesus? I swear... I set that guy down for maybe five minutes, and I told him to stay put, but when I got back out here, he was gone."
No means no. - Garmonbozia for the soul. — LiveJournal

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