Rude Telemarketers Rant #1

It's finally happened. A rant. But I can't help it; this just pissed me off!

So it's 9:30 in the morning. I've just woken up, I sleepily turn on Star Trek: Voyager as a procrastination method and I'm trying to ignore how much homework I have. I settle in on Facebook, enjoying my episode and the phone rings. And I'm thinking, "Of course, I get settled in, so the phone rings."

"Hello?"
"This. Message. Is. For. [we'll call her Stacy Bouqet]. If. You. Are. Stacy Bouqet. Please. Press. 1. If. You. Are. Not. Stacy Bouqet. Please. Press. 2." I hate telemarketing machines. I press 2.

Before I go on, here's something you might want to know. I've been a telemarketer. I worked in my private, christian high school (for $10.75--GOD, I miss those days--dinner was provided too...) calling alumni and "friends" of the school to ask for money and I got shouted at, screamed at, and told priest molestation stories. I don't think my high school actually has any "friends" and most of the alumni hate it too. And now, in college, I work in Admissions, calling prospective students and telling them how awesome it is here and I get yelled at by angry, over-protective parents, or asked awkward questions about our policies on the "Muslims and the homosexuals" (bashes head against desk). So I feel telemarketers. I still don't like them, but I try to be nice, because they have one of the shittiest jobs on the planet.

Back to my story: I FINALLY get a person on the line to tell them, no really, I am NOT Stacy Bouqet, which I have told you before, and I would really appreciate you taking me off your list.

The FIRST thing I hear on the phone is, "...probably the only white person working here."
"Hello?" I say
"Can I talk to Stacy Bouqet?"
"She doesn't live here." Okay, yeah, that could have been nicer, but I'd just woken up, and it takes me about fifteen minutes to be a nice person in the morning. I was still at minute 5.
"....you're not rude." She says.
I couldn't believe it. I'm thinking, "Does she know I can hear her? Well, let's find out!"
"Thank you!" I said a bit louder, "I'm sorry, but you've called here before and--" And she hung up on me.

Seriously? Why must people be rude? Maybe I wasn't the nicest I could have been, but I didn't start the conversation off with "probably the only white person working here." I don't care if you hate your job; the nicer you are to people the nicer, most of the time, they are to you. It's common sense.

I cannot wait for them to call back again. 'Cause they will. And I will be ready.

AJ
P.S. A review of "A Storm of Swords" is forthcoming within the next month or so, hopefully. It will depend on how busy school work gets!