How to deal with Telemarketers

There’s nobody in the world that I hate more than telemarketers (apart from homophobes that is).  Telemarketers are a special breed of persistent fuckers who invade your privacy always trying to sell you shit you don’t really need OR want.  Having had to deal with a telemarketer just yesterday who tried to sell me a second cell phone contract, I can honestly say that at that exact moment I would not have minded if they all caught a hideous disease and died.  But, not being a bad person I believe that not anyone, not even telemarketers (with the exclusion of Robert Mugabe who is a dick), should suffer a protracted painful death from pestilence.  So, instead I thought of sharing with you a few creative ways on how to quickly and easily get rid of that irksome telemarketer.

People always look at you funny if you have two cell phones.  I should know as I carried two cell phones for well over five years.  People automatically assume that you are either busy with some dodgy business dealings or cheating on your husband.  In my case it was neither.  So when a telemarketer tried to sell me a second cell phone contract yesterday I decided to have some fun with it.  “Is the phone I am going to get traceable?” I asked.  “What do you mean with traceable sir?” the telemarketer wanted to know.

“I mean can the coppers find out where I am through my phone?  Can my calls be intercepted and traced?” I answered in an inquisitive but restless voice.  “Uhm… uhm…” the telemarketer pondered.  “You see I frequently make calls from my various methlabs and I also pimp whores with my phones, and when I need to ship my heroin from Afghanistan and Pakistan I need to call Al Qaeda to confirm payments. I CANNOT afford to have a phone or contract that can ruin my businesses!  Do you understand?” I zealously explained.  An uncomfortable silence followed and the telemarketer hung up without saying a word.

We are far too nice to telemarketers in my opinion.  I don’t know why we just don’t hang up straight away after a telemarketer identifies himself.  Why do we always think that we owe it to a complete stranger on the other end to hear them out or be polite to a person that clearly is invading our privacy?  Why do we need to explain ourselves or explain to a complete stranger why we don’t want to buy the shit they’re selling?  We do this because unlike telemarketers we are not robotic leaches who are thick skinned and work off a set script designed to break people down and mind fuck them into submission.  But don’t fret, I am here to help.

I have thought about some anti-telemarketer techniques long and hard over the last few years and thought it’s time to share some of my tried and tested methods with you here today.  One of my favorites is the “I place your ass on hold forever” trick.  Look they phoned you, not the other way around.  The next time a telemarketer phones you politely ask them to hold the line, place them on hold without hanging up and go about your business.  If you get bored, pick up the phone again and say “Sorry about that.  Oh darnit, please hold again” and repeat until they hang up.

Another technique I love using is the “I am super paranoid and probably a serial killer” trick.  This usually throws the telemarketer off their game.  It is really simple and consists out of asking the telemarketer a series of question.  You simply need to ask the telemarketer where he got your number, how he knows your name, whether he told anyone he was phoning you, if he’s going to tell anyone that he spoke to you, what he looks like, how he’s build, how much he weighs, where his office is, what car he drives, where he lives, whether he lives alone and if he has any pets like big dogs.  Also don’t forget to ask him if he has any fava beans and a nice chianti at his house or if you should bring your own.  It is guaranteed to freak them out every time!

If you are in the mood for a little telemarketing yourself you can always use the “Want to buy my shit?” technique.  It is straightforward.  Counter sell to him and give the telemarketer a bit of his own medicine.  Use the opportunity to promote your company’s products (if you have any), try and get rid of that old treadmill you never use, your neighbors’ dogs, your old S&M swing, your kidney or even try and sell your sperm to him and let him explain why he doesn’t need or want it and then convince him that he’s wrong.  It really is fun and you should try it at least once.

Then there is the “Free psychotherapy” technique.  We all sometimes need to talk to someone about our crap day at work, the last fight you had with your husband or sibling, so why not share it with a complete stranger.  “I am so glad you called.  I have been waiting all day for someone to ask me how I am doing” and then let it rip, off load all your problems and don’t be shy.  I promise you he really wants to know about your premature ejaculation, erectile dysfunction, incontinence and bowel movement as much as you want to know about whatever he is trying to sell you.

When you are alone, bored and feeling a little frisky you can always try the “Let’s talk dirty” technique.  Telemarketers never know how to handle this and like some men in the sack this will not last longer than approximately three minutes.  You can start off by telling the person on the other end that he has a really sexy voice and then proceed to ask him what he’s wearing.  Heavy breathing is optional and remember even if he doesn’t ask you what you are wearing tell him anyway because deep down you know he really does want to know.

The last but most definitely NOT the least is Cut the Call.  You will know it is a telemarketer that called you within the first couple of seconds.  Hang up immediately.  You don’t owe the fuckers anything and remember what he is doing is probably illegal anyway (at least in South Africa it is).  If you wanted to buy whatever the fuck he’s selling, you would have contacted him!  If he calls back hang up again until he gets the picture.

Sure some of the techniques I explained here may lead to the police contacting you, but what the hell, it is fun and you only live once right?  It is not like you are breaking the law or anything.  But if you really do have a methlab, smuggling Al Qaeda’s heroin, illegally operating a brothel or are a serial killer, do me one big favor – please make sure you delete you browser history after reading this because I do not want any trouble.  I really don’t. OK?

Till next time.

My Hell

Every so often, after a tongue lashing by some fanatical Christian group, I ponder what hell must be like. After all that’s where they say people like me are going. Yesterday I needed to do some last minute shopping for a few items I considered necessary for my trip to Europe for which I am leaving tonight. It was during this unassuming outing that I finally discovered what my hell will look like.
Being somewhat anal retentive I like making lists and when going on a trip you absolutely need a check list. When I cross referenced what I had on my list one item was missing. I am also not shy to admit it was an item of make-up. Yes, I sometimes do wear a little miracle powders and creams; after all I was not born an oil painting. Under my eyes I have a slight pigmentation that I find unsightly and frequently will cover up with concealer and it was my concealer that was finished. Pure vanity then drove me and hubby out of the house in cold wet weather to do some shopping.
With the weather being miserable and it being a Saturday I was convinced that the shopping centers would be quiet. The first one we went to was slightly busy but not crowded. However, I was made to stand in queue to pay for an unscheduled purchase. After this little detour I made it to the makeup counter and asked for the concealer I wanted. The sales lady (who needs a lesson in applying her own makeup) looked at me as if surprised. She paused for a moment and then responded in a sarcastic tone that they didn’t carry Yves Saint Laurent products and I had to go to their larger franchise in a larger shopping center. Being a bit taken aback by the woman’s attitude and surprise that a man would ask for makeup and be specific about what he wanted, I decided to let it go so I turned around and left.
Arriving at the second shopping centre the first warning sign was that we couldn’t find any parking. It took me 20 minutes to eventually find an open parking bay. It was in a section of the center I have never been and I also never knew they had a Go Kart track there – the noise was mind numbing. The walk to one of the entrances was more a hike than walk. As we entered the centre it looked like the whole town decided to go shopping and I was slightly overwhelmed. I don’t like crowds and I don’t like shopping centers - combine the two and you have the perfect torture. By now I had a headache and my mood was slowly deteriorating. Kids were screaming and their screams where cutting like knives through my ears. People were rude and navigating my way through crowds of people was frequently hindered with obstacles of trolleys, shopping bags and window shoppers that were stationary and refusing to give way.
After some minor altercations and me cursing a few people in my mind, we eventually made it to the shop. This too was packed to capacity and would be any fire marshal’s nightmare. As we got there hubby said he wanted to go have a look at some belts while I buy my makeup. Horrified at being left amongst this sea of people, memories of me getting separated from my parents in shopping centers when I was small came flooding back. Needless to say, hubby didn’t leave my side. I bought the concealer and I hesitantly accompanied him to the belt section.
By now my headache turned into a migraine. We had got what we came for and it was time to escape this noisy crowed pits of hell. Going back to car proved more treacherous. Again we had to fight the crowds but this time we were going against the stream. Finally making it to the car I had a sigh of relieve, but the torture was not yet over! We still had to get out of the parking area and as luck would have it probably a hundred other cars decided to leave at the same time. Now we were stuck in a traffic jam in the parking lot and it was a race against time. You only get 20 minutes to leave after you paid for your ticket and no cars was moving. My patience was being tested, my head was throbbing and I started to realize what road rage felt like. Going down 5 levels in the covered parking was like watching snails race, we were moving but I didn’t feel like it. With 3 minutes to spare we made it out and I was free!
My hell would be being trapped in a busy shopping centre. I would be forced to walk around aimlessly, not being allowed to sit down. There would be no quiet spot to hide from the crowds. The sound of children screaming and crying would only be replaced by elevator music. Strange people will continuously invade my personal space, bump into me and refuse to get out of my way. This will be my hell and it will be utter torture. Now I have to finish packing and make my way to another very crowed place – THE AIRPORT!

Till next time.

Margaret Cho - Gay males/Straight males

Hating Christmas

It’s that time of year. Bells, shiny balls, frosted windows, mistletoe, fat jolly bearded men and Christmas trees are taking over our shopping malls, office buildings and family homes. Seasonal jingles and music are resonating in every shop, elevator and accompanies every second television advertisement. If you don’t like it – tough eggnog! We will be stuck surrounded with festive seasonal paraphernalia well into January 2010. After bitching to my husband about feeling harassed by Christmas he annoyingly responded by saying “Well you never did liked Christmas anyway!”. His response made me sound like Ebenezer Scrooge from the Charles Dickens novel “A Christmas Carol”. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas and needs an urgent visit from the three Ghosts of Christmas, I just find some parts of it intolerably irritating.

The first time I was disillusioned by Christmas was at age 5. You see I may have been a small child but I wasn’t stupid. I figured out that Santa Clause did not really exist by means of logical deduction. For him to be real there could only be one of him, yet I saw many of him in malls. Secondly, he was fat so how the hell could he fit down a chimney and manage to emerge clean as a whistle and not make a mess. Thirdly, his elves was suppose to make my gifts and Santa was suppose to deliver them on Christmas day, yet I saw what I wanted in the toy shops and later discovered my presents, a week in advance, hidden away in my parents’ closet.

Armed with these three primary facts I confronted my mother. She fervently defended his existence up to the point when she realized I was not going to budge. She finally asked me "If Santa really didn’t exist would it spoil your Christmas?" to which I responded "Only if that meant I was not going to be getting my presents". A brief further discussion settled the matter and no family member had to impersonate Santa Clause again after this.

I find the fact frightening that Christmas advertisements and decorations start appearing as early as mid November with the full onslaught the beginning of December. It’s like a countdown to one massive shopping spree that is being forced upon me. Naturally I want to spoil my loved ones with something special; I just don’t like the pressure! Being an enormous procrastinator when it comes to Christmas shopping I always find myself in the unfortunate circumstance of having to do my shopping a couple of days before Christmas.

Reaching the mall you never find parking in under an hour and once you have, going into any mall, during this time, is like being dropped in the Amazon River during a piranha feeding frenzy. Not being fond of big crowds and being well aware that I am not the only stressed out shopper, I have noticed that this brings out the worst in people. I once saw two women actually fighting over the last Tickle-Me-Elmo toy which was all the rage for kids that year, it was a vicious fight and at the end of the day neither got the toy and security escorted them out of the shop. I too have done the same. I am not proud of it, but it’s like the demon spirit of Christmas shopping overwhelms you and you just can’t help yourself. The stress of shopping, the background music, the decorations and angst all combines to turn normal people into raging idiots with credit cards.

Christmas is all about the joy of giving, or so they say... Yes, I do enjoy giving presents and seeing the joy of the recipients. However, getting to that point is the annoying bit - I cannot gift wrap anything! In the past I have made some brave attempts but always failed as the gifts usually ended up looking as if they were in a car wreck. If the item has an odd shape never attempt gift wrapping it yourself, one such endeavor took two hours of my life which I will never get back and I can’t recall ever cursing any inanimate object that much in my life before or after that day.

Luckily I am married to a brilliantly creative man who can gift wrap a garden fork and make it look spectacular. The planning he puts into the theme, color scheme and gift wrapping accessories is just insane, and all the presents we give are uniquely branded after he’s done with them and puts all the other gifts to shame no matter what their content.

Food is the one thing I truly love about Christmas and I enjoy preparing it. This is the one thing I can honestly say I am good at during the festive season. Give me a budget, a well equipped kitchen and hungry mouths and I am quite content. Unfortunately this is also the one territory off which I am fiercely competitive and brings out the Martha Steward Bitch in me.

When the family gathers and each member have to bring a different dish, mine absolutely MUST be the best! So screw desert, screw starters and side dishes I will do the main course and it will be bloody magnificent!! Many members of my family have tried to upstage my dishes in the past and all have failed miserably, but on the upside this rivalry always makes for a fabulous feast.

Christmas is a time of joy, giving and spending time with one’s family. Admittedly there are aspects leading up to the actual day that I find tedious and irritating. I don’t like Santa Clause even though he’s not real I still think the fat bastard should go on a diet. I don’t like the fact that I have to spend an hour looking for parking at a mall and then have to fight off other shoppers to purchase the presents I’m looking for. I don’t like gift wrapping or having to stand in a queue to have it done professionally, but luckily I have a husband who does that with flair, enthusiasm and for free.

I am no Ebenezer Scrooge hating Christmas as I actually love it, I just don’t like the technicalities and the buildup. But once the day arrives, all annoyances are soon forgotten and festivity fulls the air with joy and peace.

Till next time.

Jackie Beat-Santa's Baby