Today's tremendous telemarketer call

[Starman]

RING RING.

ME: Hello.

TELEMARKETER DORK: Are your parents home?

(BTW, my voice does NOT sound anything like a little kid's, or a teenager's ??? :. )

ME: No.

TELEMARKETER DORK: When do you expect them back?

ME: No time soon.

TELEMARKETER DORK: Can they call me back?

ME: I doubt it. They're dead.

TELEMARKETER DORK: Uhhh....they're dead?

ME: Yes. Dead. As in deceased, passed on, no longer with us, assumed ambient temperature, yadda yadda.

TELEMARKETER DORK: Well, the reason for my call is to tell you about a great new offer we have for cable TV...

ME: Fine. I'll be sure to tell my parents when they come in.

TELEMARKETER DORK: Would it be better if I called later?

ME: No.

SLAM.

: :

 

[Starman]

PS: Tried to delete, and move to "Anything Goes." While amusing, I doubt this story has much journalistic value. : :

 

[leo1]

i pity anyone who has to make a living as a telemarketer.

 

[colonelmustard]

Pre-caller ID and while in college, I worked for one of the well-known polling companies (not in sales of any kind). Wasn't terribly bad for a part-time job (some people were courteous, some were rude, whatever), but I too pity the poor souls who have to sell **** for a living over the phone.

The spawn of satan Collection agencies, though, I have no pity for.

 

[Monday Morning Sportswriter]

I get a call every day at 4 p.m. from NCO Financial systems, looking for the person who had my phone extension before I did.

Every day. They don't understand that the person doesn't work here anymore.

 

[Breakyoself]

i love ****ing with those people. make them sell it good, and then play dumb.

 

[John]

The best are the telemarketing calls you get from your own newspaper.

Are you interested in subscribing to the Podunk Press?

Sir, I work one floor above where you're sitting right now.


Before I got rid of my home phone a few years ago, I got two calls a day from people looking for the person who had the number before me. That dude must have owed people a lot of money.

 

[markvid]

I love doing Jerk Boys for them.
Saul Rosenbeg is a personal favorite to **** them off.

 

[WillieButch]

"Oh, my word. I lost my shoes and my glasses."

 

[HeinekenMan]

For our first nine months in Florida, my wife received about five calls per week between midnight and 5 a.m. from someone in another city who, I assumed, was looking to score some crack. I told her at least 20 times that she had the wrong number. It was a woman, and she was absolutely out of it. She kept asking for some guy with a name like Big Al or Little Mac or some ****.

After a few months, I told her that I was going to report her to the police if she called again. The calls stopped for weeks, but we still received an occasional call for several more months.

 

[Hank_Scorpio]

I get a call every day at 4 p.m. from NCO Financial systems, looking for the person who had my phone extension before I did.

Every day. They don't understand that the person doesn't work here anymore.

I used to get phone calls from Arrow Financial Services every other day on my cell phone. And I REPEATEDLY told them this person is not a part of this cell phone number.

I even talked to a supervisor (instead of the peons). They insisted that my number was off their list for this person, YET I continued to get calls.

The calls finally stopped when I said the next call I would make, wasn't going to be to them, but to a lawyer for them to cease and desist. Haven't got a call since.

 

[Cape_Fear]

The best are the telemarketing calls you get from your own newspaper.

Are you interested in subscribing to the Podunk Press?

Sir, I work one floor above where you're sitting right now.

We had that happen one night only we found out that they outsourced the new subscriber calls to a company in Florida instead of our East Podunk midwestern office. After about four calls we finally found out where they were but for the next 10 minutes it was just a constant ringing that we ignored as the list worked through the extensions.

 

[markvid]

"Oh, my word. I lost my shoes and my glasses."

Ok, honey babe...
That Doctor Rosenthal, he's an asshole

 

[DyePack]

I once parlayed a telemarketing call from a bubbly young Canadian woman into quite the conversation about her life. Apparently she had been in some sort of minor vehicle accident and had won a huge judgment against the person at fault. So she was working part-time as a telemarketer while she collected the judgment payments.

She wouldn't share details of her sex life, though.

 

[Smallpotatoes]

There's a telemarketer in California named Jerry who calls me at work by mistake every now and then, thinking I work at an auto body shop in Oklahoma. It seems that auto body shop has the same seven-digit number that the phone on my desk has and the area code is one digit off.
Jerry (or Jerry The Tool Man, the Hobo with a House, as he once called himself) always sounds wasted and after a few minutes he usually figures out that he called the wrong number. We usually talk a little about baseball, the Red Sox, the Dodgers, that sort of thing. Then he goes on his way.
I actually enjoy talking to the guy and I get a few laughs out of it.

 

[HeinekenMan]

I was a telemarketer for two years in my college days. I primarily answered calls from people wishing to tour Chicago. But we also helped Illinoisans plan weekend getaways to other parts of the state.

Now those were some great calls. We had one dude from California who often called in murders and UFOs and such. He was calling in on an Army recruiting line and wanted me to send some tanks and troops over. And he wasn't just playing a joke.

I once had a 30-minute conversation with a crazy lady from Zion who told me that the neighbor's daughter was dead and that the firemen and the policemen and everybody else in her town were crazy. Since we were monitored and hammered for breaking from our loosely scripts responses, I planned her a picnic on the shore of Lake Michigan. I think that she appreciated the fact that I acted as though she was completely sane.

I also had a 30-minute call from a lady living in a penthouse near Lincoln Park. She was drinking hot toddies and telling me about the wonderful artists that she brought from Europe to live with her and do commissioned works.

I was offered two jobs during calls, one was as an entry-level newspaper reporter.

I had one lady scream at me because I kept insisting that Chicago wasn't a state. Another lady requested to speak to a supervisor and told them I was wonderful after she had asked what the job market was like in Illinois and I had responded with "I don't know. I make about $6 an hour. I might not be the best person to ask."

We also took the ****ing calls for Hairclub for Men. Good god. I heard it all on that one. One lady wanted to grow hair on her beaver, ditto for guys and their junk. We weren't allowed to tell anyone about the "procedure." But that didn't stop them from asking whether it was glued, implanted, a wig, regrown with magic beans.

As soon as I told people what they wanted to know, they routinely slammed down the phone without a thank you, goodbye or hail mary. But I had secret weapon. Our computers were capable of sending a fax. So I'd enter their phone number into the system and laugh my ass off throughout the night as I received notice after notice that the fax wasn't going through because someone was answering the phone.

 

[Armchair_QB]

My wife got a call from a telemarketer offering subscriptions to Gourmet magazine.

Problem was hee pronounced it Gour-met, not Gour-may. When my wife corrected him he got so embarassed he just hung up.