Happy St. Patrick's Day!
We telemarketers have had a pretty sugary holiday so far. When we got in to the "office" there were green balloons hanging from the ceiling, and we had a little pot o' candy at our desks. There was also a green balloon which I promptly blew up, drew a couple of creepy faces on, and hung from the ceiling above my desk.
We also have lots of yummy treats. I made Blarney Stone Kissed Cookies last night in preperation for the holiday, and Jamie made green Rice Krispy treats. (I didn't know what a Blarney Stone was until yesterday, aparrently you're supposed to kiss it for good luck.)
But the BEST thing, is that at noon there was a PARADE! We thought we were going to miss the whole thing since we didn't get off for lunch until 1:00, but it was still going. Whew. I've never seen a St. Patrick's Day parade before, so it was pretty exciting. We heard the parade for an entire hour, all the sirens and music.
By the time we finished up our lunches and got down there, the parade was starting to wind down. We were just in time, however, for the "Irish" belly dancers.
Holy stink. They were....extremely plump. Well, maybe they weren't as plump as they looked, but their belly-baring shirts really made them look a whole stinkin' lot jigglier than they really were. One lady even painted her stomach green. It looked like flubber, from the Absentminded Professor. You know, green and jiggly? Really disturbing.
I waved at the Irish Republicans, simply because they were Republicans, and the gentleman in the car threw a whole ton of Tootsie Rolls at me.
We really had a hard time getting candy because nobody threw it at the "adults". I had to nearly sacrifice my entire life getting this piece of Dubble Bubble from beneath the wheels of a big trailer pulled by an big truck. Jamie thought it was a shame that the gum might get squished, so I snatched it real quick like.
Good thing the driver didn't decide to drive off, he'd have taken my arm with him. (Well, maybe not quite that bad.)
The absolute highlight was the truck that threw...SALT WATER TAFFY!!!! And they threw it right at me! It's like they know it's my favorite or something. There was even a piece of cinnamon.
Yummy to my tummy.
On the way back in, Jamie tried to piggyback on Tiffany's part of the spinny door. Tiffany smashed her a good one. Spinny doors make me nervous. Jamie survived to telemarket another day, though.
And that's how telemarketers celebrate St. Patrick's Day.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Weird Stuff I've Heard Lately As A Telemarketer
1.) "Ilene left in the car and Martha is at work." I called asking for Ilene and the guy, very seriously, replied with that statement. I wasn't sure if he was insinuating that Ilene had died while she was in the car, or if she really did just leave in the car. (She hadn't died.)
2.) "I got a new Social Security Number. The one I verified with you is wrong, I was just trying to trick you." Yeah, right. You don't just get a new Social Security Number. The guy was lying and it was so, so hard to not be all sassy to him. If you're going to lie to a telemarketer, don't lie about getting a new Social. They'll be on to you like white on rice.
3.) I said to the loan officer, "This guy wants the $20,000 to substitute his payroll for his business." And the loan officer actually laughed. (Loan officers don't usually laugh, no matter how ridiculous the customer's request sounds.)
4.) "Yeah, it doesn't have many miles at all, just 120,000." Said a customer to me, regarding his 4 year old truck. He was serious. (How do you put 120,000 miles on a truck in four years?!)
5.) My loan officer said regarding credit scores, "Oh, a 550 isn't bad at all." We'd had a rash of really, really low credit scores and at the time, 550 must have been lookin' pretty good to him. (It's not. It's pretty horrible since 450 is the lowest.)
6.) "Oh, I don't want a loan. I want to refinance my vehicle/get a line of credit." Usually the ones who say this are girls who are probably blonde, but I had an older man say this to me this morning. What, do they think the money they're going to borrow is free and they don't have to pay it back? (I hastily inform them that yes, this IS a loan.)
7.) "I want $1,800 to pay my bills." Oh, if only it really were that easy.
1.) "Ilene left in the car and Martha is at work." I called asking for Ilene and the guy, very seriously, replied with that statement. I wasn't sure if he was insinuating that Ilene had died while she was in the car, or if she really did just leave in the car. (She hadn't died.)
2.) "I got a new Social Security Number. The one I verified with you is wrong, I was just trying to trick you." Yeah, right. You don't just get a new Social Security Number. The guy was lying and it was so, so hard to not be all sassy to him. If you're going to lie to a telemarketer, don't lie about getting a new Social. They'll be on to you like white on rice.
3.) I said to the loan officer, "This guy wants the $20,000 to substitute his payroll for his business." And the loan officer actually laughed. (Loan officers don't usually laugh, no matter how ridiculous the customer's request sounds.)
4.) "Yeah, it doesn't have many miles at all, just 120,000." Said a customer to me, regarding his 4 year old truck. He was serious. (How do you put 120,000 miles on a truck in four years?!)
5.) My loan officer said regarding credit scores, "Oh, a 550 isn't bad at all." We'd had a rash of really, really low credit scores and at the time, 550 must have been lookin' pretty good to him. (It's not. It's pretty horrible since 450 is the lowest.)
6.) "Oh, I don't want a loan. I want to refinance my vehicle/get a line of credit." Usually the ones who say this are girls who are probably blonde, but I had an older man say this to me this morning. What, do they think the money they're going to borrow is free and they don't have to pay it back? (I hastily inform them that yes, this IS a loan.)
7.) "I want $1,800 to pay my bills." Oh, if only it really were that easy.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
For a telemarketer, I have an awful lot of trouble with the United States Postal Service.
First, they lost my Social Security card with my new last name on it. Arg. Riles me up just thinking about it. Some dingbat out there better not have it. I hope it just got stuck in the machine.
Second, they lost the title to my car! Hosers. We should have had it back in December, but half of that is the bank's fault. I called and asked them to expedite the payoff papers, but the lady proceeded to forget. A month and a half later, I called again and the lady felt real bad. It all worked out OK, though, because I got the payoff papers in the mail from the bank.
And yet all was not well.
Two more months later I still haven't received the title. Hmm, I think to myself, Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. So today I called down to the Polk County Administrator's Building. Sure 'nuff, they mailed that thing on February 15.
It's lost. Poor little thing. I hope it isn't scared.
So I ran (mostly just walked really fast) the 3/4 mile to the Polk County building, waited for 15 minutes while the lady printed me a new title, and then I ran back to work. Fortunately it was a pretty nice day out, sunny and brisk, or it would have been a pretty miserable hike.
I wonder if all telemarketers don't get their important mail, or if it's just me. Hmm. Who knows!
First, they lost my Social Security card with my new last name on it. Arg. Riles me up just thinking about it. Some dingbat out there better not have it. I hope it just got stuck in the machine.
Second, they lost the title to my car! Hosers. We should have had it back in December, but half of that is the bank's fault. I called and asked them to expedite the payoff papers, but the lady proceeded to forget. A month and a half later, I called again and the lady felt real bad. It all worked out OK, though, because I got the payoff papers in the mail from the bank.
And yet all was not well.
Two more months later I still haven't received the title. Hmm, I think to myself, Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. So today I called down to the Polk County Administrator's Building. Sure 'nuff, they mailed that thing on February 15.
It's lost. Poor little thing. I hope it isn't scared.
So I ran (mostly just walked really fast) the 3/4 mile to the Polk County building, waited for 15 minutes while the lady printed me a new title, and then I ran back to work. Fortunately it was a pretty nice day out, sunny and brisk, or it would have been a pretty miserable hike.
I wonder if all telemarketers don't get their important mail, or if it's just me. Hmm. Who knows!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Here's my advice for the day. DON'T ANSWER YOUR PHONE.
When it rings, don't answer it. Get Caller ID or something so that you never, ever answer when a poor telemarketer calls you. This way the telemarketer can do other, more fun things like read books, sew finger puppets, color pictures, throw stuff, or jump around while still wearing their headset.
When people answer their phones, it prohibits us from doing things like that.
We got a new campaign today. We're trying to convince people to take cash out on the vehicles they just paid off, and doing consolidating or going on vacation or something. Nobody's wanting to take stuff from me. (Surprise, surprise. I wouldn't want to go back in debt on the car I just paid off, either!) We're also trying to get them to refi with us, but I haven't been getting very many of those.
So here's the advice for the day: Leave the phone on the hook. Either that or just get cell phones so that the evil telemarketers can't get to you.
When it rings, don't answer it. Get Caller ID or something so that you never, ever answer when a poor telemarketer calls you. This way the telemarketer can do other, more fun things like read books, sew finger puppets, color pictures, throw stuff, or jump around while still wearing their headset.
When people answer their phones, it prohibits us from doing things like that.
We got a new campaign today. We're trying to convince people to take cash out on the vehicles they just paid off, and doing consolidating or going on vacation or something. Nobody's wanting to take stuff from me. (Surprise, surprise. I wouldn't want to go back in debt on the car I just paid off, either!) We're also trying to get them to refi with us, but I haven't been getting very many of those.
So here's the advice for the day: Leave the phone on the hook. Either that or just get cell phones so that the evil telemarketers can't get to you.
Monday, March 13, 2006
On Saturday I brought Joey down to see how stinkin' far it is from my office to the parking lot. (It's 3/4 of a mile, for those of you who care to feel sorry for me.) I also wanted to show him the floor in one of the buildings down here. They've been redoing it for months and it's the oddest process. I thought he'd think it was cool. He probably did.
On Friday, though, I saw a mouse. (It was on the 3/4 mile walk from the car to the desk.) Tiffany and I were walking up the steps outside the telemarketing parking garage (we don't even get to park in the parking garage yet--just the overflow lot) and there, lying on one of the steps, was a very cute little mouse.
He was very, very dead.
I don't really know how he got there because he was about 9-10 feet off the ground and he was in the middle of the staircase; maybe he fell from one of the garage levels, maybe he just had a little heart attack, maybe a cat dropped him.
I almost touched him because he was SO cute. Then I thought, "OK, Jenna, that's nasty, not to mention that you're old enough to know better than to go touching dead animals in public. You can't do an autopsy on this one." (I did that once when I was a kid. I used a couple of sticks. It was really...gross.) Anyway, I decided to scoot poor mousey off the steps lest some unwitting soul crunched him on their way down the stairs.
Now THAT would be gross. (But it would be kind of funny if it was some prissy, stilletoed woman...)
So I slid him, with my foot, over to the edge of the stairs. Thunk. He was extremely hard, musta been dead for awhile. He was cute, though.
On Friday, though, I saw a mouse. (It was on the 3/4 mile walk from the car to the desk.) Tiffany and I were walking up the steps outside the telemarketing parking garage (we don't even get to park in the parking garage yet--just the overflow lot) and there, lying on one of the steps, was a very cute little mouse.
He was very, very dead.
I don't really know how he got there because he was about 9-10 feet off the ground and he was in the middle of the staircase; maybe he fell from one of the garage levels, maybe he just had a little heart attack, maybe a cat dropped him.
I almost touched him because he was SO cute. Then I thought, "OK, Jenna, that's nasty, not to mention that you're old enough to know better than to go touching dead animals in public. You can't do an autopsy on this one." (I did that once when I was a kid. I used a couple of sticks. It was really...gross.) Anyway, I decided to scoot poor mousey off the steps lest some unwitting soul crunched him on their way down the stairs.
Now THAT would be gross. (But it would be kind of funny if it was some prissy, stilletoed woman...)
So I slid him, with my foot, over to the edge of the stairs. Thunk. He was extremely hard, musta been dead for awhile. He was cute, though.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
I'm telemarketing today.
I just have to tell you all about this really...dense lady I talked to a bit ago. She's a homemaker so she herself doesn't have any income. That's fine, no problem. BUT, she went to the bank and filled out a loan application for $5,000, stuck her name on it and put her husband's employer and income down as if it was hers.
And she wonders why they denied it.
People like her make telemarketing a lot, lot, lot more confusing. I had to rack my little brain just to figure out how to term that crazy thing! Should I term it "doesn't need money"? Was it a "crazy wife" one? Wait, we don't have a term code for that one. (We could really use one, though.) Or was it more of an "unidentified"? I finally settled on "doesn't need money".
On to brighter topics.
Joey says that if you smashed all the molecules in the entire universe down and took all the air out from in between them, they could smash down to about 2 square inches. That's pretty small. This leaves me with two important questions, perhaps some of you will know the answer and if you do I'd like to hear it.
1.) If there's air inbetween the molecules now, why can't we poke our fingers through things? It makes sense to me...
2.) If you really could smash all the molecules down into a square, what color would it be?
Joey says I missed the point. Did I miss the point? He also says that nobody would be able to know what color the square would be, because everybody would be IN the square.
I just have to tell you all about this really...dense lady I talked to a bit ago. She's a homemaker so she herself doesn't have any income. That's fine, no problem. BUT, she went to the bank and filled out a loan application for $5,000, stuck her name on it and put her husband's employer and income down as if it was hers.
And she wonders why they denied it.
People like her make telemarketing a lot, lot, lot more confusing. I had to rack my little brain just to figure out how to term that crazy thing! Should I term it "doesn't need money"? Was it a "crazy wife" one? Wait, we don't have a term code for that one. (We could really use one, though.) Or was it more of an "unidentified"? I finally settled on "doesn't need money".
On to brighter topics.
Joey says that if you smashed all the molecules in the entire universe down and took all the air out from in between them, they could smash down to about 2 square inches. That's pretty small. This leaves me with two important questions, perhaps some of you will know the answer and if you do I'd like to hear it.
1.) If there's air inbetween the molecules now, why can't we poke our fingers through things? It makes sense to me...
2.) If you really could smash all the molecules down into a square, what color would it be?
Joey says I missed the point. Did I miss the point? He also says that nobody would be able to know what color the square would be, because everybody would be IN the square.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Wednesday on the way home from church I was reminded just how much I hate gondolas. I don't really remember what brought them to my mind, but I totally hate them. Oh, I don't mean the boat gondolas like in Venice, I mean the stupid ski-lift type ones that go up the sides of steep mountains.
So we're in China. Let me preface this with saying that up to that point, we weren't too impressed with the quality of construction over there. (For instance, when we tried to buy a fan for our bedroom the sales lady had to test all the fans to make that the one we bought actually worked.)
Anyway, we're at Snow-Cap Mountain. We went there with a bunch of our students for the weekend and right before we were going to head home, we were scheduled to take gondolas up the mountain to the top.
Yay. I just love heights.
We had already spent 45 minutes in an 8-person gondola the day before to get halfway up the mountain. It really stunk because people kept moving and shaking the gondola. Then I'd get really scared. It wasn't pretty.
So there we are, getting ready to get in the gondola. It's cold and raining outside, I think the sky is just as sad about me having to get in the rickey gondola as I am. Joey and I stand there, in our bright red plastic ponchos, and I'm trying to be brave. I can't let our students know just how badly I do NOT want to do this. The gondola swings around on its axis and we hop in.
I watch the nice, safe muddy ground slip away as we're dragged up into the air on a bouncy cable. The enclosed gondola doesn't do much to keep out the rain. It's cold, wet and bouncy. Some idiot up the cable thinks it's funny to bounce the car. I'm sitting there, stiff as a board. Joey is trying to come up with ways to distract me. None of them are working.
An hour later, we finally see an enclosure up ahead. I know that this only means we have to switch gondolas, but at least it's terra firma! Five minutes later, we're in a colder, wetter, shakier gondola, going up a steeper part of the mountain.
It's so misty outside that we can't see any further than 100 feet or so. Joey's dreadfully disappointed, but I'm pleased as punch. I don't want to know how high up we are.
After 45 more minutes, we're at the top. We have to hoof it 1/2 a mile or so up some wooden stairs (extremely slippery because of the rain and fog) to get to the top. It was entirely anticlimactic, too, becuase of the fog. We couldn't see anything.
And then...we went back down.
That's why I hate gondolas. I told Joey I was never, ever in my entire life getting on another gondola, even if it meant missing out on something really cool. Never again. Oh, I forgot to say the word "telemarketer"; so now I've said it. (I gotta say it every time, you know.)
So we're in China. Let me preface this with saying that up to that point, we weren't too impressed with the quality of construction over there. (For instance, when we tried to buy a fan for our bedroom the sales lady had to test all the fans to make that the one we bought actually worked.)
Anyway, we're at Snow-Cap Mountain. We went there with a bunch of our students for the weekend and right before we were going to head home, we were scheduled to take gondolas up the mountain to the top.
Yay. I just love heights.
We had already spent 45 minutes in an 8-person gondola the day before to get halfway up the mountain. It really stunk because people kept moving and shaking the gondola. Then I'd get really scared. It wasn't pretty.
So there we are, getting ready to get in the gondola. It's cold and raining outside, I think the sky is just as sad about me having to get in the rickey gondola as I am. Joey and I stand there, in our bright red plastic ponchos, and I'm trying to be brave. I can't let our students know just how badly I do NOT want to do this. The gondola swings around on its axis and we hop in.
I watch the nice, safe muddy ground slip away as we're dragged up into the air on a bouncy cable. The enclosed gondola doesn't do much to keep out the rain. It's cold, wet and bouncy. Some idiot up the cable thinks it's funny to bounce the car. I'm sitting there, stiff as a board. Joey is trying to come up with ways to distract me. None of them are working.
An hour later, we finally see an enclosure up ahead. I know that this only means we have to switch gondolas, but at least it's terra firma! Five minutes later, we're in a colder, wetter, shakier gondola, going up a steeper part of the mountain.
It's so misty outside that we can't see any further than 100 feet or so. Joey's dreadfully disappointed, but I'm pleased as punch. I don't want to know how high up we are.
After 45 more minutes, we're at the top. We have to hoof it 1/2 a mile or so up some wooden stairs (extremely slippery because of the rain and fog) to get to the top. It was entirely anticlimactic, too, becuase of the fog. We couldn't see anything.
And then...we went back down.
That's why I hate gondolas. I told Joey I was never, ever in my entire life getting on another gondola, even if it meant missing out on something really cool. Never again. Oh, I forgot to say the word "telemarketer"; so now I've said it. (I gotta say it every time, you know.)
Thursday, March 09, 2006
I don't understand it.
I called a guy this morning, we'll call him Bob Hearnot, and said, "Hi, may I speak with Bob?" I get silence on the other end. Someone's scuffling about.
"Who?" Says the man.
Ohhh, I think to myself, another one of these.
"I'm looking for Bob. Bob Hearnot," I say. More scuffling.
"Bob who--Who you say you lookin' for?" Growls the gruff-voiced man.
I sigh. "Bob Hearnot. Is this the wrong number?"
Reluctantly he says, "Uhhh, no....this is Bob."
Seriously. Either Bob is deaf or he thinks I'm a bill collector. This happens ALL DAY LONG. People play seriously dumb when you ask for someone, but if you persist then they eventually come out with "Oh, that's me."
Do they just not know their own names?
Last I checked, my English was pretty good so I'm pretty sure it's not because they just can't understand me. A lot more people must need hearing aids. Either that or they need to quit running up debts and then going delinquent on them. Either or.
I called a guy this morning, we'll call him Bob Hearnot, and said, "Hi, may I speak with Bob?" I get silence on the other end. Someone's scuffling about.
"Who?" Says the man.
Ohhh, I think to myself, another one of these.
"I'm looking for Bob. Bob Hearnot," I say. More scuffling.
"Bob who--Who you say you lookin' for?" Growls the gruff-voiced man.
I sigh. "Bob Hearnot. Is this the wrong number?"
Reluctantly he says, "Uhhh, no....this is Bob."
Seriously. Either Bob is deaf or he thinks I'm a bill collector. This happens ALL DAY LONG. People play seriously dumb when you ask for someone, but if you persist then they eventually come out with "Oh, that's me."
Do they just not know their own names?
Last I checked, my English was pretty good so I'm pretty sure it's not because they just can't understand me. A lot more people must need hearing aids. Either that or they need to quit running up debts and then going delinquent on them. Either or.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Dear fans, loyal readers, and really bored people,
Today it's really busy around here. I've suckered 28 people into taking applications (three of them were real arm-twisters, too. I'm such a bad person) and it's not looking to slow down anytime soon. I really shouldn't even be blogging right now, I haven't got the time.
I just had to mention some really unusual last names I saw today. Telemarketers see all sorts of silly things, you know. My favorite one so far has been "Beaubeof" and that is, of course, French for "Pretty cow". I wonder if that lady knows that's what her name means.
I also talked to a Lesicko (that also sounds French for "The sicko") and then some guy whose last name was Nalchadzyan. He was from Armenia, though, so I guess that explains it. I can't even figure out how to pronounce it!
Well, like I said friends, I need to not be doing this anymore. Telemarketing awaits.
Love,
Jenna
Today it's really busy around here. I've suckered 28 people into taking applications (three of them were real arm-twisters, too. I'm such a bad person) and it's not looking to slow down anytime soon. I really shouldn't even be blogging right now, I haven't got the time.
I just had to mention some really unusual last names I saw today. Telemarketers see all sorts of silly things, you know. My favorite one so far has been "Beaubeof" and that is, of course, French for "Pretty cow". I wonder if that lady knows that's what her name means.
I also talked to a Lesicko (that also sounds French for "The sicko") and then some guy whose last name was Nalchadzyan. He was from Armenia, though, so I guess that explains it. I can't even figure out how to pronounce it!
Well, like I said friends, I need to not be doing this anymore. Telemarketing awaits.
Love,
Jenna
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
I think today's isn't going to have much to do with telemarketing. (But I did just get some guy's answering machine...and he was singing on it! For shame.) This one's going to be about.... STAGE FRIGHT!
So I'm in Kohl's a couple weeks ago looking for something for Joey's birthday. They had a ton of stuff on sale, so I was browsing through the clearance on the hunt for a track jacket that was priced just right. Suddenly, I saw someone that I worked with for a couple of weeks when I worked for the bank.
I got stage fright.
What do I do? Do I hide or do I say hi? What do I say if I do go over and talk to her? She always scared me when we worked together because she was cranky and mean. Hmm...Did she see me? I couldn't tell. Well, I was a chicken. I opted for "hide behind a really tall clothing rack and pretend I never saw her in the first place".
It worked. Good thing I'm short.
This happens to me all the time. I see somebody I sort of know, think I should go over and say hi but then I get stage fright and go hide somewhere for 5 minutes until I figure they're gone.
I did this at work the other day. I saw some guy that used to work on my team (for a couple months) coming through the doors at the same time as me. I thought, "Hmm, should I say hi or should I just pretend I didn't see him. Maybe he didn't recognize me". Besides, I'd hate for him to think I was, like....flirting or something nasty like that. I hear behind me, "Well, hello, Jenna."
Stink. Foiled again.
I turned around and tried to dig myself out of my hole. It was hard, too, because the hole was super deep. Stage fright is a bad thing to have at this job. Sometimes when mean and nasty people get on the phone I just think, "Oh cool, they can't even see me. I can just pretend I'm not here."
Life's hard for telemarketer.
So I'm in Kohl's a couple weeks ago looking for something for Joey's birthday. They had a ton of stuff on sale, so I was browsing through the clearance on the hunt for a track jacket that was priced just right. Suddenly, I saw someone that I worked with for a couple of weeks when I worked for the bank.
I got stage fright.
What do I do? Do I hide or do I say hi? What do I say if I do go over and talk to her? She always scared me when we worked together because she was cranky and mean. Hmm...Did she see me? I couldn't tell. Well, I was a chicken. I opted for "hide behind a really tall clothing rack and pretend I never saw her in the first place".
It worked. Good thing I'm short.
This happens to me all the time. I see somebody I sort of know, think I should go over and say hi but then I get stage fright and go hide somewhere for 5 minutes until I figure they're gone.
I did this at work the other day. I saw some guy that used to work on my team (for a couple months) coming through the doors at the same time as me. I thought, "Hmm, should I say hi or should I just pretend I didn't see him. Maybe he didn't recognize me". Besides, I'd hate for him to think I was, like....flirting or something nasty like that. I hear behind me, "Well, hello, Jenna."
Stink. Foiled again.
I turned around and tried to dig myself out of my hole. It was hard, too, because the hole was super deep. Stage fright is a bad thing to have at this job. Sometimes when mean and nasty people get on the phone I just think, "Oh cool, they can't even see me. I can just pretend I'm not here."
Life's hard for telemarketer.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Good morning, class. Today we will be discussing a very important topic: answering machines. Now get out those pens and notebooks to take notes. If I ever hear of any of you violating any of the Seven Deadly Answering Machine Sins...what I do to you won't be pretty. (And I'm not responsible because you've all been warned.) Telemarketers hate, hate, hate corny answering machines. Trust me, this is for your own good!
So, without any further ado, the Seven Deadly Answering Machine Sins.
1.) Singing Like You Can
Holy cow. Why do people think it's cool to write songs and then sing them into their answering machines? It really kills me when people try to sound like rock stars and are doing the Beyonce thing when they really just can't. (I wonder if nobody's ever told them that it makes them sound really, really bad.) Even if you have a decent voice, never sing on your answering machine. It will ruin any talent you may have.
2.) Coaching Young Children To Say The Greeting
Oh my, my. If you have a two year old and they're really good at repeating what you say, don't start thinking it would be cute to have them do your answering machine. It's cute the first time, but it really loses it's luster quite fast. Consider the fact that no one but you can probably understand what your kid is saying anyway, and if you want people to leave messages they should probably know who they're calling. And besides, it's not that cute to hear an adult whispering in the background "Hi, this is" and then the kid saying "Ga, ga ga" into the microphone. Oy.
3.) Playing Music In the Background
OK, Muzak has its place and it's definitely not on your answering machine. Every time I get some big tough guy's answering machine and he's got cheesy jazz in the background, I cringe. Can you say "Ladies' Man" any more clearly? Besides, the ladies he's trying to snag are smart enough to know that it's a red flag for "player". Foiled again.
4.) Having An Automated Greeting
Nothing says "I'm running from the cops" more than an automated answering machine, especially one that just says the phone number and not your name. Maybe it's just me, but seriously, if you have your greeting set up to say "We are not home right now. Please leave a message" in a computer voice, you're probably hiding. (Either from cops or creditors, it doesn't matter much.) Or if you just can't figure out how to record a greeting, I suggest you get out the manual. Otherwise telemarketers are going to think you're running from the cops.
5.) Sounding Like You're a Bad, Tough Guy
This one goes along with playing cheesy music in the background, but not always. I got an answering machine once that was something like, "Yo, yo, representin'. If you be coo, show some love and leave a message at the tone." And so on. Can you say "Wannabe" with me? That's what he sounded like to me...
6.) Leaving Your Cell Number
Alright, kids, this one's pretty basic. Don't put your cell number on your answering machine unless you want to get prank calls frmo telemarketers. Seriously, I'm so tempted to write those numbers down and then start calling them and saying, "Your refrigerator is running" or something dumb like that.
7.) Thinking You're Original and Playing the "Hello" Game
Newsflash--You're not. About 3 million people in America also have answering machines that say "Hello........OH HI! How ARE you?.... I'm sorry, speak up, I can't hear you.....GOTCHA, this is an answering machine. You fell for it." Yeah, it's really not funny. Not after you get them 10 or 20 times a day. There should be a Constitutional Amendment about it or something.
OK, right now I'm talking to a guy in Wisconsin who sounds exactly like Red from the Red Green Show. It's weird.
So, without any further ado, the Seven Deadly Answering Machine Sins.
1.) Singing Like You Can
Holy cow. Why do people think it's cool to write songs and then sing them into their answering machines? It really kills me when people try to sound like rock stars and are doing the Beyonce thing when they really just can't. (I wonder if nobody's ever told them that it makes them sound really, really bad.) Even if you have a decent voice, never sing on your answering machine. It will ruin any talent you may have.
2.) Coaching Young Children To Say The Greeting
Oh my, my. If you have a two year old and they're really good at repeating what you say, don't start thinking it would be cute to have them do your answering machine. It's cute the first time, but it really loses it's luster quite fast. Consider the fact that no one but you can probably understand what your kid is saying anyway, and if you want people to leave messages they should probably know who they're calling. And besides, it's not that cute to hear an adult whispering in the background "Hi, this is" and then the kid saying "Ga, ga ga" into the microphone. Oy.
3.) Playing Music In the Background
OK, Muzak has its place and it's definitely not on your answering machine. Every time I get some big tough guy's answering machine and he's got cheesy jazz in the background, I cringe. Can you say "Ladies' Man" any more clearly? Besides, the ladies he's trying to snag are smart enough to know that it's a red flag for "player". Foiled again.
4.) Having An Automated Greeting
Nothing says "I'm running from the cops" more than an automated answering machine, especially one that just says the phone number and not your name. Maybe it's just me, but seriously, if you have your greeting set up to say "We are not home right now. Please leave a message" in a computer voice, you're probably hiding. (Either from cops or creditors, it doesn't matter much.) Or if you just can't figure out how to record a greeting, I suggest you get out the manual. Otherwise telemarketers are going to think you're running from the cops.
5.) Sounding Like You're a Bad, Tough Guy
This one goes along with playing cheesy music in the background, but not always. I got an answering machine once that was something like, "Yo, yo, representin'. If you be coo, show some love and leave a message at the tone." And so on. Can you say "Wannabe" with me? That's what he sounded like to me...
6.) Leaving Your Cell Number
Alright, kids, this one's pretty basic. Don't put your cell number on your answering machine unless you want to get prank calls frmo telemarketers. Seriously, I'm so tempted to write those numbers down and then start calling them and saying, "Your refrigerator is running" or something dumb like that.
7.) Thinking You're Original and Playing the "Hello" Game
Newsflash--You're not. About 3 million people in America also have answering machines that say "Hello........OH HI! How ARE you?.... I'm sorry, speak up, I can't hear you.....GOTCHA, this is an answering machine. You fell for it." Yeah, it's really not funny. Not after you get them 10 or 20 times a day. There should be a Constitutional Amendment about it or something.
OK, right now I'm talking to a guy in Wisconsin who sounds exactly like Red from the Red Green Show. It's weird.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Saturdays are great for one major reason--NO TELEMARKETING!! (Well, every other Saturday that is.)
Today I've been really productive. I cleaned the whole house within an inch of its life, did 45 minutes of Pilates (I'm so, so sore) and been twice to Walmart. I hate Walmart. Sorry, Dad, but it's true.
I'm on my way to grocery shop now becuase I'm going to pre-make some dishes for this next week. It'll be really nice to have a few things in the freezer, especially if I wind up having any interviews. Wow, wouldn't it be great to not be a telemarketer anymore? But I must be thankful for the job I've got, right? I try...
I can't think of anything funny to say, so I'm going to quit now.
Today I've been really productive. I cleaned the whole house within an inch of its life, did 45 minutes of Pilates (I'm so, so sore) and been twice to Walmart. I hate Walmart. Sorry, Dad, but it's true.
I'm on my way to grocery shop now becuase I'm going to pre-make some dishes for this next week. It'll be really nice to have a few things in the freezer, especially if I wind up having any interviews. Wow, wouldn't it be great to not be a telemarketer anymore? But I must be thankful for the job I've got, right? I try...
I can't think of anything funny to say, so I'm going to quit now.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Yay! It's Friday! (Good thing, too, because around here by Friday, all telemarketers are fried.)
We're working on finger puppets right now. We're making one for each of the members on our team. This way when it gets really slow and boring around here we can do little plays. I've got one dress finished and I'm working on another one. It's almost done. I forgot how slow hand stitching is, good thing some guy invented a sewing machine. On the upside, my stitches are really improving. They're much smaller and straighter.
~*~*~
Some guy named Pedro called me yesterday. He's from the East Coast, like Maryland or something, and he was "following up on my application". I'm confused. I didn't apply in Maryland, or the East Coast, for any position. Particularly not with a mortgage company. I want nothing more to do with money places. I keep trying to get ahold of our pal Pedro...but he's not in.
All I can figure out is that somehow when I took that online class to get certified to do mortgages in Maryland (yes, they seriously had us do it "just in case") my phone number got given to Pedro.
Poor guy. With the name Pedro, all I can think of is the guy from Napoleon Dynamite. He even sort of talks like him, too, so it's really hard to take him seriously! I wonder if he looks like the guy from the movie, too. I guess I'll never know because I'm NOT moving to Maryland to do mortgages for Pedro.
"You should build her a cake or something"
We're working on finger puppets right now. We're making one for each of the members on our team. This way when it gets really slow and boring around here we can do little plays. I've got one dress finished and I'm working on another one. It's almost done. I forgot how slow hand stitching is, good thing some guy invented a sewing machine. On the upside, my stitches are really improving. They're much smaller and straighter.
~*~*~
Some guy named Pedro called me yesterday. He's from the East Coast, like Maryland or something, and he was "following up on my application". I'm confused. I didn't apply in Maryland, or the East Coast, for any position. Particularly not with a mortgage company. I want nothing more to do with money places. I keep trying to get ahold of our pal Pedro...but he's not in.
All I can figure out is that somehow when I took that online class to get certified to do mortgages in Maryland (yes, they seriously had us do it "just in case") my phone number got given to Pedro.
Poor guy. With the name Pedro, all I can think of is the guy from Napoleon Dynamite. He even sort of talks like him, too, so it's really hard to take him seriously! I wonder if he looks like the guy from the movie, too. I guess I'll never know because I'm NOT moving to Maryland to do mortgages for Pedro.
"You should build her a cake or something"
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
My poor husband. I really did him over this time.
On his birthday last Saturday we decided to take a break from watching LOTR movies (our eyes were going buggy) and run by Kohl's before dinner. They were having a ginormous sale, so we got him a couple of sweaters for $5 and suchlike. (I also got a really cozy hoodie toreplace my brown one that's got holes. If I can bear to part with it, that is.) Anyway, Joey saw a rack of khakis for $10 and, since he only has one "official" pair I thought I'd find him his size and we'd get them. Who can beat a nice pair of khakis for only $10?
I have a real hard time with guys' sizes. I can never remember if poor Joey is 30x32, 32x30 or 32x32. Fortunately, Joey was there to tell me that he is, in fact, a 32x30. They had one in his size, so I grabbed it and we were off.
Later, when Joey was trying on his khakis, I noticed that they looked really....tight. Uncomfortably tight. I thought, "Man, how did he gain so much weight so fast? We've really got to put him on some sort of diet. Like now!" Poor Joey, I'm not very good at keeping my thoughts in my head, so I told him that he was probably getting fat. Since his pants were so tight, he thought I was probably right.
Well this morning Joey decided to wear those khakis to work. For some reason, he glanced at the tag and, to his great surprise, noticed that they weren't 32x30s, like I thought I grabbed, but a 30x32!
POOR JOEY!!!
And here I thought he was getting pudgy when it was really just a case of me not being able to read. I should be extremely ashamed of myself. (And I am.) Poor thing, now I feel really bad and I want to go try to find him a pair of pants that fits.
So, do you think it's ethical to return something after it's already been washed and worn, if the wife made a mistake and still can't read men's sizes? I think it's because my eyes are ruined from being a telemarketer.
On his birthday last Saturday we decided to take a break from watching LOTR movies (our eyes were going buggy) and run by Kohl's before dinner. They were having a ginormous sale, so we got him a couple of sweaters for $5 and suchlike. (I also got a really cozy hoodie to
I have a real hard time with guys' sizes. I can never remember if poor Joey is 30x32, 32x30 or 32x32. Fortunately, Joey was there to tell me that he is, in fact, a 32x30. They had one in his size, so I grabbed it and we were off.
Later, when Joey was trying on his khakis, I noticed that they looked really....tight. Uncomfortably tight. I thought, "Man, how did he gain so much weight so fast? We've really got to put him on some sort of diet. Like now!" Poor Joey, I'm not very good at keeping my thoughts in my head, so I told him that he was probably getting fat. Since his pants were so tight, he thought I was probably right.
Well this morning Joey decided to wear those khakis to work. For some reason, he glanced at the tag and, to his great surprise, noticed that they weren't 32x30s, like I thought I grabbed, but a 30x32!
POOR JOEY!!!
And here I thought he was getting pudgy when it was really just a case of me not being able to read. I should be extremely ashamed of myself. (And I am.) Poor thing, now I feel really bad and I want to go try to find him a pair of pants that fits.
So, do you think it's ethical to return something after it's already been washed and worn, if the wife made a mistake and still can't read men's sizes? I think it's because my eyes are ruined from being a telemarketer.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
My dad is cool.
Few people are as cool as my dad. He does cool stuff like fix John Deere tractors for fun and he has lots of cows. I like cows. Cows like noogies, breaking the water tank, and screwing up the sensor on the sprayer.
Can cows outsmart my dad, though? No way, man. He fixes the water tank and the sprayer like it's his job. Conveniently, the cows break that stuff every time I go home. This means that my cool dad needs me to "help" him fix the stuff. Fortunately this just involves me following Dad down there and watching while he fixes it. I'd probably break it worse than the cows did.
My dad dominates real estate. He is so cool that people buy stuff from him just because he's the greatest realtor in the world. They can, of course, tell this by looking at him. Dollar Generals must be good stores, because my dad thinks they're cool. He likes to send Joey and I to take pictures of them. Hey everybody, shop at Dollar General.
My dad is the greatest dad ever because he takes me to the office with him when I come home. He makes me coffee (hyper!) and then we split bagels and I try to figure out how to do stuff for him. I probably don't do it right but he still lets me help.
My dad is so cool that I can't even list all the reasons. So I'll just leave it at that for today. Salutations, Dad! (He likes red, so that's why I made this red today. Red must be the coolest color.)
And that is why my dad is cool. (I bet your dad can't top that!)
Yay Dad!
Few people are as cool as my dad. He does cool stuff like fix John Deere tractors for fun and he has lots of cows. I like cows. Cows like noogies, breaking the water tank, and screwing up the sensor on the sprayer.
Can cows outsmart my dad, though? No way, man. He fixes the water tank and the sprayer like it's his job. Conveniently, the cows break that stuff every time I go home. This means that my cool dad needs me to "help" him fix the stuff. Fortunately this just involves me following Dad down there and watching while he fixes it. I'd probably break it worse than the cows did.
My dad dominates real estate. He is so cool that people buy stuff from him just because he's the greatest realtor in the world. They can, of course, tell this by looking at him. Dollar Generals must be good stores, because my dad thinks they're cool. He likes to send Joey and I to take pictures of them. Hey everybody, shop at Dollar General.
My dad is the greatest dad ever because he takes me to the office with him when I come home. He makes me coffee (hyper!) and then we split bagels and I try to figure out how to do stuff for him. I probably don't do it right but he still lets me help.
My dad is so cool that I can't even list all the reasons. So I'll just leave it at that for today. Salutations, Dad! (He likes red, so that's why I made this red today. Red must be the coolest color.)
And that is why my dad is cool. (I bet your dad can't top that!)
Yay Dad!
Dun duh DUUUUH!
Jenna had an interview! A phone interview. (I'd take just about anything, though.) It's just encouraging to know that yes, there is a possibility of freedom from Telemarketing Purgatory. The interview went pretty good, too, because she's going to set up a face-to-face interview with me next week on Tuesday or Wednesday.
Oh, the glory.
Let's take a few moments to ponder on the loveliness of new job prospects.
1. A new job wouldn't have the scary elevators that we have in this building. Seriously, I don't think they've done a thing to them since 1920. They make me all jibbly jibbly.
2. A new job would likely not have anybody threatening to blow me up with a shoe bomb. While we've all enjoyed laughing at that fool...seriously; he needs to get a hobby.
3. A new job would have a new set of co-worker quirks. (That could be good, but that could be bad, too.)
4. A new job could help restore some firmness to my brain. It's been feeling increasingly mushy lately from all this monotony. I think I'm getting dumber.
5. A new job would completely eradicate the purpose for this blog!!! Now I know that everyone who actually reads this may fall into despair because this is the comedic highlight of your day, but I could probably blog about other, more exciting stuff. Not to worry.
6. Lastly, a new job would be FANTASTIC!
Now let's not all think that I hate everything about telemarketing...just most stuff. I definitely like my two amigos from over the cubie wall. I may even sink into a deep sadness without them. But before I get to hasty...I don't have a new job yet.
But I just had an INTERVIEW. We'll take 'em as we get 'em.
Jenna had an interview! A phone interview. (I'd take just about anything, though.) It's just encouraging to know that yes, there is a possibility of freedom from Telemarketing Purgatory. The interview went pretty good, too, because she's going to set up a face-to-face interview with me next week on Tuesday or Wednesday.
Oh, the glory.
Let's take a few moments to ponder on the loveliness of new job prospects.
1. A new job wouldn't have the scary elevators that we have in this building. Seriously, I don't think they've done a thing to them since 1920. They make me all jibbly jibbly.
2. A new job would likely not have anybody threatening to blow me up with a shoe bomb. While we've all enjoyed laughing at that fool...seriously; he needs to get a hobby.
3. A new job would have a new set of co-worker quirks. (That could be good, but that could be bad, too.)
4. A new job could help restore some firmness to my brain. It's been feeling increasingly mushy lately from all this monotony. I think I'm getting dumber.
5. A new job would completely eradicate the purpose for this blog!!! Now I know that everyone who actually reads this may fall into despair because this is the comedic highlight of your day, but I could probably blog about other, more exciting stuff. Not to worry.
6. Lastly, a new job would be FANTASTIC!
Now let's not all think that I hate everything about telemarketing...just most stuff. I definitely like my two amigos from over the cubie wall. I may even sink into a deep sadness without them. But before I get to hasty...I don't have a new job yet.
But I just had an INTERVIEW. We'll take 'em as we get 'em.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Good news and bad news today, everybody. Let's start with the bad news.
I wanted to get a new headset that just sat over my ear. (The over the head ones, like I currently have, really make it hard to have any sort of decent hairstyle.) I spent the first 45 minutes of work today trying to situate that crazy headset onto my ear. My ear is too small to even fit the headset. I finally jerry-rigged the stupid thing to where I didn't have to be holding it to get it to stay. I breathed a sigh of releif. I knew that this innovation would make my telemarketing so much easier.
But alas. The next call I got sounded so far away. So distant. Rather like the amplifier was...down on my cheekbone! In a rage of fury I ripped off the earpiece (carefully, so as not to damage my tender cartilige) and started taking it apart. Well, it really wasn't as dramatic as all that, but it sounded cooler that way. I figured I must have put the piece on wrong. No, I didn't. I'm just not the right size, I guess. Grrrrrrrr.
On to the good news.
I HAVE MY VERY OWN INTERACTIVE YODA!!! He's actually Joey's, but when he found him in a box yesterday I just couldn't resist the little guy. I snitched him to take to work; he's super cute! He talks and moves a little bit and his face is super realistic. I couldn't figure out how to make him work though, and he wouldn't shut up. Joey found me some instructions for using him on the internet. Yoda can do the coolest stuff!
He can play "Yoda Says" (think Simon says) and "Ask Yoda" (he's a fortune teller...of yes/no questions) and he can also teach you how to be a Jedi with a light saber. He's got some kind of sensor so he can tell if you moved the way he told you to.
Is he the coolest thing or what? If you tip him upside down he gets really hosed and says, "Fun this is not. Put me down!" And if you stick him in the dark he can tell and he'll say something along the lines of. "Dark it is. Some light I am wanting."
My desk is getting cooler and cooler. First I get Morf, and now I have YODA. All these great toys and yet I still don't like telemarketing. Hmm...
I wanted to get a new headset that just sat over my ear. (The over the head ones, like I currently have, really make it hard to have any sort of decent hairstyle.) I spent the first 45 minutes of work today trying to situate that crazy headset onto my ear. My ear is too small to even fit the headset. I finally jerry-rigged the stupid thing to where I didn't have to be holding it to get it to stay. I breathed a sigh of releif. I knew that this innovation would make my telemarketing so much easier.
But alas. The next call I got sounded so far away. So distant. Rather like the amplifier was...down on my cheekbone! In a rage of fury I ripped off the earpiece (carefully, so as not to damage my tender cartilige) and started taking it apart. Well, it really wasn't as dramatic as all that, but it sounded cooler that way. I figured I must have put the piece on wrong. No, I didn't. I'm just not the right size, I guess. Grrrrrrrr.
On to the good news.
I HAVE MY VERY OWN INTERACTIVE YODA!!! He's actually Joey's, but when he found him in a box yesterday I just couldn't resist the little guy. I snitched him to take to work; he's super cute! He talks and moves a little bit and his face is super realistic. I couldn't figure out how to make him work though, and he wouldn't shut up. Joey found me some instructions for using him on the internet. Yoda can do the coolest stuff!
He can play "Yoda Says" (think Simon says) and "Ask Yoda" (he's a fortune teller...of yes/no questions) and he can also teach you how to be a Jedi with a light saber. He's got some kind of sensor so he can tell if you moved the way he told you to.
Is he the coolest thing or what? If you tip him upside down he gets really hosed and says, "Fun this is not. Put me down!" And if you stick him in the dark he can tell and he'll say something along the lines of. "Dark it is. Some light I am wanting."
My desk is getting cooler and cooler. First I get Morf, and now I have YODA. All these great toys and yet I still don't like telemarketing. Hmm...
Friday, February 24, 2006
Telemarketer Purgatory needed some spicin' up. So I'm making a monument in honor of all of us not going insane while calling Prospects. I'm going to leave it on my supervisor's desk so that he finds it in the morning.
This monument is pretty amazing. It's entirely constructed out of paper plates, cups, bowls and several plastic knives from the break room supply cupboard. I also added some googly eyes left over from making the Yodas. I'm probably going to add some color to it later, but right now I just have to keep the stupid thing from falling over. I have about used an entire bottle of Elmer's School Glue to keep the thing together.
Us poor telemarketers have been low on things to do today. I took passed two online classes (tested out of them, yay!) and made a sympathy card for Tiffany, who has the unfortunate luck to work tomorrow. The plan is to make paper dolls representing all of us later. The ones I make will probably be realy ugly.
I have to get back to my monument. I think the glue is starting to set. Finally.
This monument is pretty amazing. It's entirely constructed out of paper plates, cups, bowls and several plastic knives from the break room supply cupboard. I also added some googly eyes left over from making the Yodas. I'm probably going to add some color to it later, but right now I just have to keep the stupid thing from falling over. I have about used an entire bottle of Elmer's School Glue to keep the thing together.
Us poor telemarketers have been low on things to do today. I took passed two online classes (tested out of them, yay!) and made a sympathy card for Tiffany, who has the unfortunate luck to work tomorrow. The plan is to make paper dolls representing all of us later. The ones I make will probably be realy ugly.
I have to get back to my monument. I think the glue is starting to set. Finally.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
So guess what. I'm now a Proficient User of Microsoft Word.
In an effort to keep my brain from totally turning into telemarketer mush, I've decided to take some online classes on Microsoft Office Suite. I breezed through Basic User of Word and now I'm Proficient. Next I'll tackle the two Expert classes. I also get to do Access, Excel, Outlook, PowerPoint and something else. I can't remember what it is.
I'm excited to do something worthwhile with my time. Making Yoda is great and all, but a person really needs to do something with their brains or they kind of turn to liquid and slosh around in their head. That's dangerous, too, because I figure it's easier to lose some brain cells that way.
And while I'm on the topic, who invented the Boys' State Wrestling Tournament, anyway? There were entirely way too many high schoolers (and the girls were wearing FLIP-FLOPS with their jeans!!!) and cars and adults who all needed to be at home or at work where they belong. It was super hard to get to work with all those monkeys running around clogging up our roads.
Might as well just sleep here at night.
On second thought, I've decided that's a really bad idea. It's figure skating night at the Olympics, and I really hope that the Americans kick some bum. If they have all the Americans go at first on some good ice and then ran that Zamboni thing to make the ice extra slippery for everyone else, then they'd all fall a lot and we'd have a medals sweep. Now that's a really, really good idea.
Poor telemarketers.
In an effort to keep my brain from totally turning into telemarketer mush, I've decided to take some online classes on Microsoft Office Suite. I breezed through Basic User of Word and now I'm Proficient. Next I'll tackle the two Expert classes. I also get to do Access, Excel, Outlook, PowerPoint and something else. I can't remember what it is.
I'm excited to do something worthwhile with my time. Making Yoda is great and all, but a person really needs to do something with their brains or they kind of turn to liquid and slosh around in their head. That's dangerous, too, because I figure it's easier to lose some brain cells that way.
And while I'm on the topic, who invented the Boys' State Wrestling Tournament, anyway? There were entirely way too many high schoolers (and the girls were wearing FLIP-FLOPS with their jeans!!!) and cars and adults who all needed to be at home or at work where they belong. It was super hard to get to work with all those monkeys running around clogging up our roads.
Might as well just sleep here at night.
On second thought, I've decided that's a really bad idea. It's figure skating night at the Olympics, and I really hope that the Americans kick some bum. If they have all the Americans go at first on some good ice and then ran that Zamboni thing to make the ice extra slippery for everyone else, then they'd all fall a lot and we'd have a medals sweep. Now that's a really, really good idea.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Once upon a time, there was a lovely girl named Alyssa. She was very fortunate becasue she was not a telemarketer.
Alyssa went through life very happily going to school, going to church, hanging out with her friends and NOT telemarketing. She didn't even know how good she had it until one day, she happened upon a very shocking blog. The blog, you see, was about the mistreatment of telemarketers by seemingly normal, civilized people.
"Oh my!" said Alyssa as she read about this injustice, "I didn't realize that I was so blessed! These poor telemarketers really ARE people, and very abused people at that! I think I'll start a petition to abolish telemarketing and raise awareness of this cruelty."
Dear Alyssa spent many sleepless nights pondering the best way to help the poor telemarketers. She made lists, flow charts, and graphs of different ways to attempt solving this problem. She organized rallys, picket lines and sit ins without gaining much support. People still insisted on treating telemarketers fiendishly!
Alyssa worked so hard that she found herself growing drowsy. Sleepy. Heavy eyelids. Drifting...off...into...dreamland...
Our heroine, Alyssa, awoke with a start. She was at home, in her bed, not in Washington D. C., like she remembered, lobbying to free the telemarketers! Could it all have been a dream? There were not posters on her walls, no petitions stacked on her desk... "Alyssa, it's time to get ready for school; you're running behind!" Called her mom.
Shaking her head, Alyssa decided that it must have all been a dream. But she knew that now she would be nice to every single telemarketer she encountered. For the rest of her life.
Alyssa is our hero!
Alyssa went through life very happily going to school, going to church, hanging out with her friends and NOT telemarketing. She didn't even know how good she had it until one day, she happened upon a very shocking blog. The blog, you see, was about the mistreatment of telemarketers by seemingly normal, civilized people.
"Oh my!" said Alyssa as she read about this injustice, "I didn't realize that I was so blessed! These poor telemarketers really ARE people, and very abused people at that! I think I'll start a petition to abolish telemarketing and raise awareness of this cruelty."
Dear Alyssa spent many sleepless nights pondering the best way to help the poor telemarketers. She made lists, flow charts, and graphs of different ways to attempt solving this problem. She organized rallys, picket lines and sit ins without gaining much support. People still insisted on treating telemarketers fiendishly!
Alyssa worked so hard that she found herself growing drowsy. Sleepy. Heavy eyelids. Drifting...off...into...dreamland...
Our heroine, Alyssa, awoke with a start. She was at home, in her bed, not in Washington D. C., like she remembered, lobbying to free the telemarketers! Could it all have been a dream? There were not posters on her walls, no petitions stacked on her desk... "Alyssa, it's time to get ready for school; you're running behind!" Called her mom.
Shaking her head, Alyssa decided that it must have all been a dream. But she knew that now she would be nice to every single telemarketer she encountered. For the rest of her life.
Alyssa is our hero!
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Announcing the Wells Fargo Bobsled Team!
2010 Olympics--watch out! If you thought you knew what super fast bobsledding was, you're wrong. If you thought it wasn't possible for one bobsled team to win the gold, silver and bronze medals all at once in a single event, you're wrong. If you thought that there were only events for two man or four man bobsleds, you're wrong.
The Wells Fargo Bobsled Team is here to shift your bobsledding paradigm. Prepare to be stunned.
Meet the Trifecta:
Jenna the Jitterbug
Position: Front (for steering)
Height: 5'1"
Favorite candy bar: Symphony (with toffee)
Least favorite sport: Most of them
First word that comes to mind when thinking about amusement parks: Dizzy!!!
If the U.S. had to change national colors, I would pick: Green and hot pink
Favorite day of the week: Saturday
I like naps: A LOT!
Tiffany the Thoughtful
Position: Center (for screaming)
Height: 5'6"
Favorite candy bar: Snickers
Least favorite sport: Softball
First word that comes to mind when thinking about amusement parks: Valley Fair
If the U.S. had to change national colors, I would pick: Lime green and hot pink
Favorite day of the week: Saturday!!!
I like naps: I love naps, but don't normally get them.
Jamie the Java Jewel
Position: Back (for stopping)
Height: 5'6"
Favorite candy bar: Take 5
Least favorite sport: Golf
First word that comes to mind when thinking about amusement parks: Water
If the U.S. had to change national colors, I would pick: Green, Black and Gold
Favorite day of the week: Thursday
I like naps: Definitely!!!
This team is truly amazing. Their teamwork and single-mindedness toward the goal of all three medals at once is outstanding. Watching them glide down the track with Jenna frantically steering, Tiffany screaming bloody murder and Jamie trying desperately to stop the careening bobsled is truly a sight to behold.
So mark your calendars. Take off a week of vacation. Don't miss a minute of this edgy, exciting bobsled team's performance!
2010 Olympics--watch out! If you thought you knew what super fast bobsledding was, you're wrong. If you thought it wasn't possible for one bobsled team to win the gold, silver and bronze medals all at once in a single event, you're wrong. If you thought that there were only events for two man or four man bobsleds, you're wrong.
The Wells Fargo Bobsled Team is here to shift your bobsledding paradigm. Prepare to be stunned.
Meet the Trifecta:
Jenna the Jitterbug
Position: Front (for steering)
Height: 5'1"
Favorite candy bar: Symphony (with toffee)
Least favorite sport: Most of them
First word that comes to mind when thinking about amusement parks: Dizzy!!!
If the U.S. had to change national colors, I would pick: Green and hot pink
Favorite day of the week: Saturday
I like naps: A LOT!
Tiffany the Thoughtful
Position: Center (for screaming)
Height: 5'6"
Favorite candy bar: Snickers
Least favorite sport: Softball
First word that comes to mind when thinking about amusement parks: Valley Fair
If the U.S. had to change national colors, I would pick: Lime green and hot pink
Favorite day of the week: Saturday!!!
I like naps: I love naps, but don't normally get them.
Jamie the Java Jewel
Position: Back (for stopping)
Height: 5'6"
Favorite candy bar: Take 5
Least favorite sport: Golf
First word that comes to mind when thinking about amusement parks: Water
If the U.S. had to change national colors, I would pick: Green, Black and Gold
Favorite day of the week: Thursday
I like naps: Definitely!!!
This team is truly amazing. Their teamwork and single-mindedness toward the goal of all three medals at once is outstanding. Watching them glide down the track with Jenna frantically steering, Tiffany screaming bloody murder and Jamie trying desperately to stop the careening bobsled is truly a sight to behold.
So mark your calendars. Take off a week of vacation. Don't miss a minute of this edgy, exciting bobsled team's performance!
Monday, February 20, 2006
Ernie the puppy is super, super, super cute. I really like him. I want a wiggler just like him. (Joey doesn't go quite so gaga over a little furball as I do, but he'd become addicted in time.) We had a real slam-bang weekend, Alex, Ernie, Andrew, Joey and I.
Joey's trouble. He found some sort of video on Google that showed some guys taking a package of Mentos and sticking them in a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper, after attaching a pipe to the top of the 2 litre. There's a major chemical reaction that occurs and the soda goes shooting out the top of the bottle and pipe, probably about four feet in the air.
I feel really sorry for the poor person who was eating Mentos and drinking Diet Dr. Pepper who discovered this reaction. Doesn't sound pretty.
Anyway, we did this on Saturday afternoon. I had to go to my telemarketing in the morning, so this crazy waste of soda was great therapy for my poor, damaged psyche. Ernie missed out on most of the madness since Dave Schmave the Knave (we just keep adding stuff that rhymes onto the end of his name...) was around, and Ernie probably shouldn't have been over in the first place.
After we blew up the Dr. Pepper we slothed around. I made pizza and we ate an early dinner so Joey and Alex could go buy a man-necklace for Joey. Then we watched about 3 1/2 hours of Olympics. (Bode Miller skiied off the course! YAY!) Telemarketers need to watch Olympics, it's good for them. It relaxes them.
After a good weekend, it's back at it. I hope everybody comes back for a visit soon! (Ernie's Aunt Jenna misses him already.)
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Sobe No Fear should never, ever again be consumed by Jenna. My little brother and I got some last night and split a can of it (good thing, too) while we bummed around. Mom always told us not to do this, but we did it anyway. We figured she'd be less sad if she found out we did it after we'd done it. (Sorry Mom, don't be sad.) No Fear has creatine, tourine, ginsing and arginine. I don't know what half of that stuff is. It also has 158 mg of caffeine per 16 oz can. Mt. Dew has 55 mg caffeine in a 12 oz can. Uh oh.
We drank our No Fear and waited to see what would happen.
About five minutes later, I started freaking out. "I'm getting hyper, I'm gettin' hyper!" I started boucing and jittering. I could tell that this was NOT going to get better.
Joey came home and joined us in our bumming. Ernie laid around and gnawed on his treat. Alex lolled around on the couch. I...was freaking out.
Alex used the bathroom and toilet overflowed (probably not his fault, but still, he was the last one who used it) so then I did laundry, mopped the floor and killed all the germies. Jitters. I had the jitters. When I finally sat down on the couch we took my pulse. My little heart was beating at 120 beats per minute!
I finally fell asleep at 11:30, but I was having breathing problems and my heart was racing and racing and racing. Remind me NEVER to drink one of those things again, they make me super sick.
Maybe if telemarketers all drank Sobe No Fear they'd be a lot happier. Then again, maybe not.
We drank our No Fear and waited to see what would happen.
About five minutes later, I started freaking out. "I'm getting hyper, I'm gettin' hyper!" I started boucing and jittering. I could tell that this was NOT going to get better.
Joey came home and joined us in our bumming. Ernie laid around and gnawed on his treat. Alex lolled around on the couch. I...was freaking out.
Alex used the bathroom and toilet overflowed (probably not his fault, but still, he was the last one who used it) so then I did laundry, mopped the floor and killed all the germies. Jitters. I had the jitters. When I finally sat down on the couch we took my pulse. My little heart was beating at 120 beats per minute!
I finally fell asleep at 11:30, but I was having breathing problems and my heart was racing and racing and racing. Remind me NEVER to drink one of those things again, they make me super sick.
Maybe if telemarketers all drank Sobe No Fear they'd be a lot happier. Then again, maybe not.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Today I'm making the second Yoda. I'm going to give him to Alex's dog Ernie when he comes over tonight. It'll be super sweet.
But today we're talking about Sandra Bezic.
Who hired her, anyway?! She's super mean and cranky. My dad says she's bitter, and I think he may be right. I really enjoy figure skating and I love to watch the skaters do their routines. What I don't appreciate is Ms. Bezic's negative commentary. (We've decided to call her The Fez. Isn't that the kind of hats that the Muslims wear?) Scott Hamilton is hilarious, he always freaks out about jumps and spins. We can keep him. Let's start some major online petition to see if NBC will fire her. They should hire Kristi Yamaguchi instead or something; she was always nice.
Well, I'm back to working on Yoda. I've got about five people making Yodas, some yesterday but most today. See? This is what telemarketers do for fun when they're at work.
I've only got two more hours to finish up Yoda!!!
But today we're talking about Sandra Bezic.
Who hired her, anyway?! She's super mean and cranky. My dad says she's bitter, and I think he may be right. I really enjoy figure skating and I love to watch the skaters do their routines. What I don't appreciate is Ms. Bezic's negative commentary. (We've decided to call her The Fez. Isn't that the kind of hats that the Muslims wear?) Scott Hamilton is hilarious, he always freaks out about jumps and spins. We can keep him. Let's start some major online petition to see if NBC will fire her. They should hire Kristi Yamaguchi instead or something; she was always nice.
Well, I'm back to working on Yoda. I've got about five people making Yodas, some yesterday but most today. See? This is what telemarketers do for fun when they're at work.
I've only got two more hours to finish up Yoda!!!
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Jenna Sews While On The Job
Making a Yoda doll, I am.
Yep, I'm getting paid to sew a little Yoda doll out of felt. Joey sent me a pattern for making your own Yoda, and I've been working on mine since 9:30. It's 1:45 right now and I just finished sewing the little guy together and stuffing him. I'm working on his clothes right now. His light saber will be the finishing touch. He's pretty awesome looking.
Honestly, what kind of place allows their employees to sit around cutting out patterns and hand sewing them together?! This one does, aparrently. I figure if anybody tells me not to, I'll tell them that my morale is low and this is how I keep it up.
My morale is extra low today because even though it's snowing nobody cancelled work! One time when I worked for Sears (another lifetime ago) it snowed really super bad. My pals and I drove down, risking life and limb to get there, only to find out that the store was closed and nobody bothered to tell us. It was a Saturday morning, though, so we were all OK with just going back home.
I have to get back to Yoda. Poor little green critter is laying on my desk all cold and naked right now. It's my job to make the little man some clothes.
Get on it, I'd better.
Yep, I'm getting paid to sew a little Yoda doll out of felt. Joey sent me a pattern for making your own Yoda, and I've been working on mine since 9:30. It's 1:45 right now and I just finished sewing the little guy together and stuffing him. I'm working on his clothes right now. His light saber will be the finishing touch. He's pretty awesome looking.
Honestly, what kind of place allows their employees to sit around cutting out patterns and hand sewing them together?! This one does, aparrently. I figure if anybody tells me not to, I'll tell them that my morale is low and this is how I keep it up.
My morale is extra low today because even though it's snowing nobody cancelled work! One time when I worked for Sears (another lifetime ago) it snowed really super bad. My pals and I drove down, risking life and limb to get there, only to find out that the store was closed and nobody bothered to tell us. It was a Saturday morning, though, so we were all OK with just going back home.
I have to get back to Yoda. Poor little green critter is laying on my desk all cold and naked right now. It's my job to make the little man some clothes.
Get on it, I'd better.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Save the Telemarketers
I'm feeling particularly unwitty today.
Being a telemarketer is really a drag sometimes. I feel like it's important for me to give a lesson on appropriate telemarketer etiquette, because most of the country has no clue. So get out those pencils, fair reader, and prepare to take notes.
1.) When a poor, helpless telemarketer comes calling (and they will) you need to know that they don't want to be talking to you either. They have probably just gotten cussed out and are trying very hard not to take it personally. Either that or they're bored out of their gourds because they have nothing to do.
2.) While on the phone with this telemarketer and listening to their schpiel, bear in mind that this poor person, no matter how mild mannered they may be while not at work, MUST rebuttal your, "No, thanks, I'm not interested" at least three times. It does not matter how nice you are when you turn them down, they still have to push. Telemarketers, in general, hate doing this.
3.) In order to save yourself some time, as well as your poor telemarketer, simply
say, "No, thanks, I'm not interested" very politely and then (gasp) hang up the phone. It may be frusterating to get hung up on for the telemarketer, but it's less frusterating than rebuttling three times and still having to take that hit on the statistics that telemarketers guard so closely. It feels better to know that the "NO" on your stat sheet was because the person hung up, and not because you didn't rebuttal well enough.
4.) Do not lie to telemarketers. If they ask for Maryanne and you, being a man, say, "Hi, I'm Maryanne" your telemarketer will not be fooled. It will cause them to be extremely annoyed, and perhaps snap their fragile psyche. Don't mess with that. We also can tell if the person we're asking for is really "not home". Saying, "Uhm....he's....not home" is pretty much a dead giveaway. Nobody is that dumb.
5.) If a telemarketer calls asking for your husband and she happens to be a woman, do NOT assume that she is some mistress you are just now wizing up to. Likely, she is just as uncomfortable that you now are suspicious of your poor guiltless husband. Trust, trust, trust, ladies! When in doubt, assume she's a telemarketer.
6.) Swearing is considered rude, not to mention that it's poor form. Do not do this. It really gains nothing, especially if the customer hangs up after giving the telemarketer an earful.
7.) If you'd really like your telemarketer to stop calling (and we don't blame you a bit) here's how: If they mispronounce your name say, "Nobody by that name lives here" and the telemarketer will term it as a wrong number. Or, simply say the words, "Do not call me again" or, "Take me off your list". You can say this politely. The telemarketer is required to remove you from the list and not to call you back.
Hopefully this has helped you know how to treat these poor beings who are paid to call you and be a bother. Likely, they just took the job because they really needed the money and the company pays well.
Be nice to us!!!
Being a telemarketer is really a drag sometimes. I feel like it's important for me to give a lesson on appropriate telemarketer etiquette, because most of the country has no clue. So get out those pencils, fair reader, and prepare to take notes.
1.) When a poor, helpless telemarketer comes calling (and they will) you need to know that they don't want to be talking to you either. They have probably just gotten cussed out and are trying very hard not to take it personally. Either that or they're bored out of their gourds because they have nothing to do.
2.) While on the phone with this telemarketer and listening to their schpiel, bear in mind that this poor person, no matter how mild mannered they may be while not at work, MUST rebuttal your, "No, thanks, I'm not interested" at least three times. It does not matter how nice you are when you turn them down, they still have to push. Telemarketers, in general, hate doing this.
3.) In order to save yourself some time, as well as your poor telemarketer, simply
say, "No, thanks, I'm not interested" very politely and then (gasp) hang up the phone. It may be frusterating to get hung up on for the telemarketer, but it's less frusterating than rebuttling three times and still having to take that hit on the statistics that telemarketers guard so closely. It feels better to know that the "NO" on your stat sheet was because the person hung up, and not because you didn't rebuttal well enough.
4.) Do not lie to telemarketers. If they ask for Maryanne and you, being a man, say, "Hi, I'm Maryanne" your telemarketer will not be fooled. It will cause them to be extremely annoyed, and perhaps snap their fragile psyche. Don't mess with that. We also can tell if the person we're asking for is really "not home". Saying, "Uhm....he's....not home" is pretty much a dead giveaway. Nobody is that dumb.
5.) If a telemarketer calls asking for your husband and she happens to be a woman, do NOT assume that she is some mistress you are just now wizing up to. Likely, she is just as uncomfortable that you now are suspicious of your poor guiltless husband. Trust, trust, trust, ladies! When in doubt, assume she's a telemarketer.
6.) Swearing is considered rude, not to mention that it's poor form. Do not do this. It really gains nothing, especially if the customer hangs up after giving the telemarketer an earful.
7.) If you'd really like your telemarketer to stop calling (and we don't blame you a bit) here's how: If they mispronounce your name say, "Nobody by that name lives here" and the telemarketer will term it as a wrong number. Or, simply say the words, "Do not call me again" or, "Take me off your list". You can say this politely. The telemarketer is required to remove you from the list and not to call you back.
Hopefully this has helped you know how to treat these poor beings who are paid to call you and be a bother. Likely, they just took the job because they really needed the money and the company pays well.
Be nice to us!!!
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Hot Stuf
Weird stuff always happens to me. Most of it is my own fault, though.
I've had plans for several weeks to make a big, heart-shaped cookie for Joey's friend's wife for Valentine's day. I made it last night while we watched Olympics. The cookie itself looks great. It's nice and soft, the dough tastes yummy, and it's perfectly shaped. (It almost wasn't, though, because I just about ripped off the left half of the heart trying to transfer it off the waxed paper. I decided to leave it where it was.) Anyway, I was supposed to frost this cookie like one the guy had seen at the Great American Cookie Company.
Martha Stewart, I am not. But I try.
I mixed up my frosting and dyed half of it red. I started making the big white blobs around the outside, alternating them with red ones. It looked so good, almost like somebody who knew what they were doing had made it! But...I still had to write "hot stuff" on it. Herein, I knew, lay the challenge. I started frosting. The word "hot" turned out really great. I started frosting "stuff" and realized that I was out of room!
Yes, the cookie reads "Hot Stuf".
I thought about adding an extra "t" to the word "hot" so that they were both spelled wrong, but decided against it. "Hott Stuf" just doesn't really do it for me. Besides, I'd already stuck a frosting heart in the place I was going to put the extra "t".
On the upside, this morning my birds were super cool. I was getting ready and Whitebird looked super cute, so I decided to go chirp at him a little bit. I stuck my nose through the cage bars and stared at tricksy Whitebird. He stared back at me and edged closer and closer on his perch. He kept shifting his little white head to get a different angle on my nose. Then, he reached out his little beak and started nibbling on the end of my nose. It really tickled. Whitebird sidled up real close so he could nibble even better, but just about then my calves gave out from standing on my tiptoes for so long.
I tried the same thing with Mr. Darcy, but she wasn't interested in my nose. Fancy that. At least all the lines I got on my nose (from sticking it through the cage bars) wore off before I started my telemarketing. People would have hung up on me for sure!
I've had plans for several weeks to make a big, heart-shaped cookie for Joey's friend's wife for Valentine's day. I made it last night while we watched Olympics. The cookie itself looks great. It's nice and soft, the dough tastes yummy, and it's perfectly shaped. (It almost wasn't, though, because I just about ripped off the left half of the heart trying to transfer it off the waxed paper. I decided to leave it where it was.) Anyway, I was supposed to frost this cookie like one the guy had seen at the Great American Cookie Company.
Martha Stewart, I am not. But I try.
I mixed up my frosting and dyed half of it red. I started making the big white blobs around the outside, alternating them with red ones. It looked so good, almost like somebody who knew what they were doing had made it! But...I still had to write "hot stuff" on it. Herein, I knew, lay the challenge. I started frosting. The word "hot" turned out really great. I started frosting "stuff" and realized that I was out of room!
Yes, the cookie reads "Hot Stuf".
I thought about adding an extra "t" to the word "hot" so that they were both spelled wrong, but decided against it. "Hott Stuf" just doesn't really do it for me. Besides, I'd already stuck a frosting heart in the place I was going to put the extra "t".
On the upside, this morning my birds were super cool. I was getting ready and Whitebird looked super cute, so I decided to go chirp at him a little bit. I stuck my nose through the cage bars and stared at tricksy Whitebird. He stared back at me and edged closer and closer on his perch. He kept shifting his little white head to get a different angle on my nose. Then, he reached out his little beak and started nibbling on the end of my nose. It really tickled. Whitebird sidled up real close so he could nibble even better, but just about then my calves gave out from standing on my tiptoes for so long.
I tried the same thing with Mr. Darcy, but she wasn't interested in my nose. Fancy that. At least all the lines I got on my nose (from sticking it through the cage bars) wore off before I started my telemarketing. People would have hung up on me for sure!
Monday, February 13, 2006
An amazing feat has been performed today. I could not allow it to pass by without some commemoration.
Ode to (Tiffany's) Joy
Joyful, joyful we're astonished, Tiffany made history!
She has not had any contacts; lucky girl she seems to be,
All day long while calling Prospects she ne'er talked to anyone.
Joyful music leads her homeward and she smiles with joy and glee!
At the time of posting, Tiffany has gone 3 hours without a contact. It MUST be a telemarketing record!
Ode to (Tiffany's) Joy
Joyful, joyful we're astonished, Tiffany made history!
She has not had any contacts; lucky girl she seems to be,
All day long while calling Prospects she ne'er talked to anyone.
Joyful music leads her homeward and she smiles with joy and glee!
At the time of posting, Tiffany has gone 3 hours without a contact. It MUST be a telemarketing record!
Monday, Monday, Monday, Monday, MONDAY!!!
Last night we were watching the Olympics (what else?) and my right ear filled up with fluid. It sounds like I'm talking with my head in a bucket. Anyway, my ear really hurts. NOTHING was working to get it to drain; not a single one of my usual tricks!
Joey was drinking some of his Mt. Dew. He had just bought a 12-pack with the $5 he had won off me from a bet. (Remind me never to make a bet on what the birds will be doing when we get home.) I snuck a sip of his Dewski, hoping that the carbonation would help relieve the pressure in my ear. It seemed to help, so I begged my own can of Dew off him.
Mt. Dew makes me wound up, especially when I have it at 9:00 at night. Joey started fading, so we went to bed at 10:30. I lay there, wide awake, FOR HOURS. My caffinated brain drifted to many, many unusual places.
I tried to come up with crafts I could do using my birds. Everything I thought of using paint seemed like it would kill them eventually, or they'd become permanently stuck to their perch by their painty little feet. (Poor, tricksy hobbit-birds!)
I dreamed strange dreams involving pairs figure skating and ketchup. Together. (Figure that one out.)
I tried to come up with fun things to do at work. I thought about taking all my old beanie babies from when I was a kid and bringing them to work. I would set them up at my telemarketing desk. I could pretend they were real, and feed them and train them to do tricks. I could make them fight each other and then play vet on the hurt ones.
I thought about how awake I was, even though it was super late at night. It annoyed me really bad. I tried to come up with ways to get my ear to drain by laying different directions. None of them worked. I tried ear to the pillow, I tried ear to the ceiling, I tried pushing Joey around.
This particular can of Dewski must have had some high octane caffeine. I woke up at 6:00 and felt rested. I lay there for another 45 minutes and tried to fall asleep again before I finally gave up.
My ear is still plugged. What a way to start a telemarketing Monday!
Last night we were watching the Olympics (what else?) and my right ear filled up with fluid. It sounds like I'm talking with my head in a bucket. Anyway, my ear really hurts. NOTHING was working to get it to drain; not a single one of my usual tricks!
Joey was drinking some of his Mt. Dew. He had just bought a 12-pack with the $5 he had won off me from a bet. (Remind me never to make a bet on what the birds will be doing when we get home.) I snuck a sip of his Dewski, hoping that the carbonation would help relieve the pressure in my ear. It seemed to help, so I begged my own can of Dew off him.
Mt. Dew makes me wound up, especially when I have it at 9:00 at night. Joey started fading, so we went to bed at 10:30. I lay there, wide awake, FOR HOURS. My caffinated brain drifted to many, many unusual places.
I tried to come up with crafts I could do using my birds. Everything I thought of using paint seemed like it would kill them eventually, or they'd become permanently stuck to their perch by their painty little feet. (Poor, tricksy hobbit-birds!)
I dreamed strange dreams involving pairs figure skating and ketchup. Together. (Figure that one out.)
I tried to come up with fun things to do at work. I thought about taking all my old beanie babies from when I was a kid and bringing them to work. I would set them up at my telemarketing desk. I could pretend they were real, and feed them and train them to do tricks. I could make them fight each other and then play vet on the hurt ones.
I thought about how awake I was, even though it was super late at night. It annoyed me really bad. I tried to come up with ways to get my ear to drain by laying different directions. None of them worked. I tried ear to the pillow, I tried ear to the ceiling, I tried pushing Joey around.
This particular can of Dewski must have had some high octane caffeine. I woke up at 6:00 and felt rested. I lay there for another 45 minutes and tried to fall asleep again before I finally gave up.
My ear is still plugged. What a way to start a telemarketing Monday!
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Indecent Exposure
OK, I am seriously traumatized.
I was headed downtown to do my telemarketing. Like normal. I drove myself this morning because I wanted to get some extra house cleaning done. I didn't want to make the other girls late if it took me longer than expected.
I took 235 and got downtown much faster than I thought I would, a whopping 17 minutes! There I was driving down 7th St, and walking down the sidewalk is a woman wearing a red, flannel jumpsuit. This is all well and good, but there's a big flap of material missing from the back side of this jumpsuit. Yes, it's the part that covers up her bum!!!
Where are the police? I think to myself, Should they not be arresting this woman for indecent exposure?
I drive around the block and park on 6th. As I'm walking the block and a half to the building I work in, I see her again! She's taken the corner and is walking down Locust. Oy vey.
Oh look! The police!
I hope they see her, but unfortunately Mr. Officer has tunnel vision, and besides the lady in the red jumpsuit is facing the police car. I thought about running into the street and knocking on his window to tell him about the lady with the incomplete outfit, but I decided against it. I thought maybe I'd get arrested for Jay-walking.
The plot thickens.
As I'm waiting for the light to turn, Ms. Cold-Bum stops right outside the Wellmark Blue Cross/Blue Shield building. Two people run up to her, shriek, and give her a hug. Uh oh, I thought, This cannot be good. Are they in cahoots?! Sure enough, they're carring red jumpsuits in their arms.
The bum lady goes INTO the Blue Cross/Blue Shield building. The couple go in with her and they're all talking excitedly. I can't figure out why the security people haven't kicked Bum Lady out of their nice, respectable building. (I figure it's because she's facing the windows. Oh goody, everybody outside can see, just not those security guards.)
The light turns green and I cross the street and enter my building. Fortunately, nobody inside is wearing a red jumpsuit, sans bum cover.
Aparrently, some radio station is having a fund raiser downtown today called the Red Flannel Run. You're supposed to wear your red flannel to come run to raise money for some charity.
I don't think a red flannel jumpsuit with a big hole in the bum is quite what they intended.
I was headed downtown to do my telemarketing. Like normal. I drove myself this morning because I wanted to get some extra house cleaning done. I didn't want to make the other girls late if it took me longer than expected.
I took 235 and got downtown much faster than I thought I would, a whopping 17 minutes! There I was driving down 7th St, and walking down the sidewalk is a woman wearing a red, flannel jumpsuit. This is all well and good, but there's a big flap of material missing from the back side of this jumpsuit. Yes, it's the part that covers up her bum!!!
Where are the police? I think to myself, Should they not be arresting this woman for indecent exposure?
I drive around the block and park on 6th. As I'm walking the block and a half to the building I work in, I see her again! She's taken the corner and is walking down Locust. Oy vey.
Oh look! The police!
I hope they see her, but unfortunately Mr. Officer has tunnel vision, and besides the lady in the red jumpsuit is facing the police car. I thought about running into the street and knocking on his window to tell him about the lady with the incomplete outfit, but I decided against it. I thought maybe I'd get arrested for Jay-walking.
The plot thickens.
As I'm waiting for the light to turn, Ms. Cold-Bum stops right outside the Wellmark Blue Cross/Blue Shield building. Two people run up to her, shriek, and give her a hug. Uh oh, I thought, This cannot be good. Are they in cahoots?! Sure enough, they're carring red jumpsuits in their arms.
The bum lady goes INTO the Blue Cross/Blue Shield building. The couple go in with her and they're all talking excitedly. I can't figure out why the security people haven't kicked Bum Lady out of their nice, respectable building. (I figure it's because she's facing the windows. Oh goody, everybody outside can see, just not those security guards.)
The light turns green and I cross the street and enter my building. Fortunately, nobody inside is wearing a red jumpsuit, sans bum cover.
Aparrently, some radio station is having a fund raiser downtown today called the Red Flannel Run. You're supposed to wear your red flannel to come run to raise money for some charity.
I don't think a red flannel jumpsuit with a big hole in the bum is quite what they intended.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Announcing the First Annual (or so) Telemarketer Olympics!
For the sake of our sanity and amusement, Jamie, Tiffany and I have decided to hold the first Telemaketer Olympics. This probably won't make national news, and the opening ceremonies were rather unceremonious. (Jamie wanted a big fire. I offered her my lighter, but she must have decided that it wouldn't be a good idea.)
Nobody's really sure how these Olympics originated, but it was somewhere between the parking lot and the parking garage on the way in to work today. A contest to see who could go the longest before getting a right-party contact sort of turned into a brain child, and that child was the Telemarketer Olympics!
We're currently taking suggestions on logo, anthem, and TV anchor. I doubt we can get Bob Costas.
So without further ado, I present to you the events and medal winners from the First Annual (or so) Telemarketer Olympics. Hopefully we're not all still here in a year to do this again. :) Sorry, all the event names are kind of long.
Who Can Go The Longest Before Getting A Right-Party Contact
Bronze: Jamie (13 minutes)
Silver: Tiffany (20 minutes)
Gold: Jenna (1 hour, 6 minutes)
Fewest Number of Contacts Before The First Break
Bronze: Jamie (8)
Gold: Tiffany (4)
Gold: Jenna (4)
Who Can Go The Longest Before They Get A Do Not Solicit
Bronze: Jamie (one day, 20 minutes)
Silver: Tiffany (one day, 38 minutes)
Gold: Jenna (one day, one hour and 35 minutes)
The Most Prospect Applications
Bronze: Jenna (2)
Gold: Tiffany (3)
Gold: Jamie (3)
Congratulations to our winners! (But I think that telemarketers win every day that they don't go stark raving mad.) I'm proud of us all.
Nobody's really sure how these Olympics originated, but it was somewhere between the parking lot and the parking garage on the way in to work today. A contest to see who could go the longest before getting a right-party contact sort of turned into a brain child, and that child was the Telemarketer Olympics!
We're currently taking suggestions on logo, anthem, and TV anchor. I doubt we can get Bob Costas.
So without further ado, I present to you the events and medal winners from the First Annual (or so) Telemarketer Olympics. Hopefully we're not all still here in a year to do this again. :) Sorry, all the event names are kind of long.
Who Can Go The Longest Before Getting A Right-Party Contact
Bronze: Jamie (13 minutes)
Silver: Tiffany (20 minutes)
Gold: Jenna (1 hour, 6 minutes)
Fewest Number of Contacts Before The First Break
Bronze: Jamie (8)
Gold: Tiffany (4)
Gold: Jenna (4)
Who Can Go The Longest Before They Get A Do Not Solicit
Bronze: Jamie (one day, 20 minutes)
Silver: Tiffany (one day, 38 minutes)
Gold: Jenna (one day, one hour and 35 minutes)
The Most Prospect Applications
Bronze: Jenna (2)
Gold: Tiffany (3)
Gold: Jamie (3)
Congratulations to our winners! (But I think that telemarketers win every day that they don't go stark raving mad.) I'm proud of us all.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
IT'S ANOTHER DOUBLE POST DAY!!
There are several reasons why Jenna should not talk when she's really tired. In this second post of the day (which I just felt like doing, in case you were curious) I thought we'd discuss several of those reasons.
Reason #1
Jenna says stuff she can't remember. This stuff may range from rude things to our birds, promises regarding what she'll make for dinner, or verbal grocery lists.
Reason #2
Jenna talks in monotone. This is very boring for both the speaker and the listener.
Reason #3
Jenna can't keep her expressions straight. Several examples include:
There are several reasons why Jenna should not talk when she's really tired. In this second post of the day (which I just felt like doing, in case you were curious) I thought we'd discuss several of those reasons.
Reason #1
Jenna says stuff she can't remember. This stuff may range from rude things to our birds, promises regarding what she'll make for dinner, or verbal grocery lists.
Reason #2
Jenna talks in monotone. This is very boring for both the speaker and the listener.
Reason #3
Jenna can't keep her expressions straight. Several examples include:
- "Woah, that's Five Class!" Five Class appears to be a combination of "Five plus" and "first class".
- "Five plus!" Five plus is a corruption of "five star" and "A plus". It just popped out one day.
- "Wear this on!" Wear this on is a combination of "put this on" and "wear this".
- "Pretty minute." She thinks she tried to say "pretty quick" and "in a minute" and, well, "pretty minute" was the result.
Reason #4
Jenna is a bad telemarketer when she's tired! That, of course, is the ultimate reason why Jenna should not talk when she's tired.
Case in point. When I get tired, somebody needs send me home before I start saying, "Wear this on!" or "Wow, that's 5 Class!" to the customers. I'd probably get fired.
Hey, wait...that might not be such a bad idea...
Hanging Chads?
This morning I put on my warpaint. I thought maybe if I went to work thinking I was some Indian on the warpath that it might help me take some prisoners. (Otherwise known as: GET SOME APPS!!) So far, I've been unsuccessfull.
Contact Number One: Chad. Chad's not home, though. His cute little wife answered the phone and asked me to put them on the Do Not Solicit list. I explained our tricky company policy, gave her the phone number, she politely took it (!) and that was that. This nice woman has obviously been reading my blog. Where else would someone learn how to be so nice to a telemarketer?
Contact Number Two: Chad. This Chad isn't home either. His wife tells me that this Chad called last night to tell us they're not interested. Again, super nice lady. I took him out of my contact list too. If I have to have a third party turndown, this is the best way to do it. Polite. Civil.
I don't know what's up with all the Chads hanging out at places other than home, but at least their wives are nice.
Contact Number One: Chad. Chad's not home, though. His cute little wife answered the phone and asked me to put them on the Do Not Solicit list. I explained our tricky company policy, gave her the phone number, she politely took it (!) and that was that. This nice woman has obviously been reading my blog. Where else would someone learn how to be so nice to a telemarketer?
Contact Number Two: Chad. This Chad isn't home either. His wife tells me that this Chad called last night to tell us they're not interested. Again, super nice lady. I took him out of my contact list too. If I have to have a third party turndown, this is the best way to do it. Polite. Civil.
I don't know what's up with all the Chads hanging out at places other than home, but at least their wives are nice.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Morf!
I hearby announce the arrival of the newest member of Team Liberated Telemarketer!
Name: Morf
Date of Birth: February 3, 2006
Color of body: Red and gray
Color of face: Pink
Eyes: Black
Number of tentacles: Four
Tail: Looks like an antenna
Favorite musical genre: Classical
Nationality: Radio Shack
Morf enjoys lulling prospective app takers into a stupor by playing relaxing classical tunes for them so that I can REEL 'EM IN! He also enjoys creating ambient music for anyone who cares to listen. His portability makes him perfect for traveling to visit other co-workers.
Glad you're here, Morf. Stick around!
Name: Morf
Date of Birth: February 3, 2006
Color of body: Red and gray
Color of face: Pink
Eyes: Black
Number of tentacles: Four
Tail: Looks like an antenna
Favorite musical genre: Classical
Nationality: Radio Shack
Morf enjoys lulling prospective app takers into a stupor by playing relaxing classical tunes for them so that I can REEL 'EM IN! He also enjoys creating ambient music for anyone who cares to listen. His portability makes him perfect for traveling to visit other co-workers.
Glad you're here, Morf. Stick around!
I Love My Birds
Our birds are up to their tricksy antics, as usual.
We've been working on Whitebird's screaming. Mr. Darcy rarely ever screamed, so it's never been a problem for her, but Whitebird has these...phases. This morning was one of them.
I was getting ready this morning and our birds were happily chirping along with the radio like usual. Whitebird started his "chee-chee-chee" screaming and I said, sharply, "NO!"
Silence.
I think I scared him. Good, that was the point.
Hesitantly, Whitebird started some pretty chirping and I got real close to the cage and started talking in a high-pitched, sing-song voice. "Pretty chirping, nice Whitebird, that's very lovely." Whitebird sidled up to the cage wall and got as close as he could to me. He continued his pretty chirping until, suddenly, he started screaming again. "NO!" I said.
Silence.
We repeated this cycle several times over the course of five minutes. Joey was just shaking his head at me. I must have sounded like a fool, cooing at my parakeet one minute and then saying "NO!" the next.
Fortunately, Whitebird likes it when I coo at him. Unfortunately, I sound like one of the Chipmunks!
Fortunately, if any telemarketers ever called our house and Whitebird was screaming, they'd hang up. Unfortunately, it's very bad manners for Whitebird to scream, and therefore we will train our babies NOT to scream.
So much for the telemarketers.
We've been working on Whitebird's screaming. Mr. Darcy rarely ever screamed, so it's never been a problem for her, but Whitebird has these...phases. This morning was one of them.
I was getting ready this morning and our birds were happily chirping along with the radio like usual. Whitebird started his "chee-chee-chee" screaming and I said, sharply, "NO!"
Silence.
I think I scared him. Good, that was the point.
Hesitantly, Whitebird started some pretty chirping and I got real close to the cage and started talking in a high-pitched, sing-song voice. "Pretty chirping, nice Whitebird, that's very lovely." Whitebird sidled up to the cage wall and got as close as he could to me. He continued his pretty chirping until, suddenly, he started screaming again. "NO!" I said.
Silence.
We repeated this cycle several times over the course of five minutes. Joey was just shaking his head at me. I must have sounded like a fool, cooing at my parakeet one minute and then saying "NO!" the next.
Fortunately, Whitebird likes it when I coo at him. Unfortunately, I sound like one of the Chipmunks!
Fortunately, if any telemarketers ever called our house and Whitebird was screaming, they'd hang up. Unfortunately, it's very bad manners for Whitebird to scream, and therefore we will train our babies NOT to scream.
So much for the telemarketers.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
"Please? Just do this one thing for me and I'll leave you alone!"
Here's my idea for the day. I figure on just begging people to take apps from me. It seems easy enough... "Please, Ms. Customer, I know you don't want to talk to me anymore than I want to talk to you, but I really need someone to take an app. Would you do me a favor and help my stats by taking this app with me? I could really use it." Groveling never hurt anybody, right?
I've always wanted to try it but of course the first time I do will be when Quality Assurance is listening in and I'll get some sort of QA violation.
Based on the fact that I'm super stuffed up and have a funky cough today, I'll be shocked if many people stay on the phone with me long enough to hear what I have to say. I don't even like to hear myself talk when I sound like this. :) Gotta love that mute button.
It's a comp day, I'm off at 2:30! Hooray! Gotta be thankful for the small things.
I've always wanted to try it but of course the first time I do will be when Quality Assurance is listening in and I'll get some sort of QA violation.
Based on the fact that I'm super stuffed up and have a funky cough today, I'll be shocked if many people stay on the phone with me long enough to hear what I have to say. I don't even like to hear myself talk when I sound like this. :) Gotta love that mute button.
It's a comp day, I'm off at 2:30! Hooray! Gotta be thankful for the small things.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Monday.
It's Monday. Something funky always happens on a Monday. This Monday is no exception.
I called in sick today, so I should really be at home slothing in bed. I was getting too bored waiting for the doctor to call me back about going down to the hospital for tests, so I talked Joey into a trip to the library. (I needed to pay for that coat I just won for him on Ebay, too! A whopping $20 I paid, including shipping. Go me.)
Anyway, today I shall not be on the giving or, I hope, receiving end of any telemarketing calls. No shoe bombers, no cussers, no people who only speak foreign languages, no angry wives....nothing but the radio and my birds.
I'll probably get bored about 1:00.
It's probably time for me to call my doctor's office back and give them the what's up. I've been waiting about an hour and a half for them to call me.
Here's to Monday! Have a good one.
I called in sick today, so I should really be at home slothing in bed. I was getting too bored waiting for the doctor to call me back about going down to the hospital for tests, so I talked Joey into a trip to the library. (I needed to pay for that coat I just won for him on Ebay, too! A whopping $20 I paid, including shipping. Go me.)
Anyway, today I shall not be on the giving or, I hope, receiving end of any telemarketing calls. No shoe bombers, no cussers, no people who only speak foreign languages, no angry wives....nothing but the radio and my birds.
I'll probably get bored about 1:00.
It's probably time for me to call my doctor's office back and give them the what's up. I've been waiting about an hour and a half for them to call me.
Here's to Monday! Have a good one.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Friday, February 03, 2006
A Shoe Bomber?
I don't normally post twice in one day, but this one was too rich not to post. I just called some guy and asked for Edwina.
He went ape on me.
"YOU PEOPLE STOP CALLING! YOU CALL ALL THE TIME AND DON'T SAY ANYTHING! I AM SO MAD, I NEVER WANT YOU TO CALL ME AGAIN," etc.
Please recall the previous lesson about not yelling at telemarketers. (This gent obviously hasn't read my blog.) Anyway, instead of making me annoyed, this time the guy just cracked me up. That may have been my first mistake. I said to him, "Sir, I'm sorry we've been calling you so much. I'll get this removed." Yadda yadda yadda. Well this guy comes back with, "YOU'D BETTER NOT! I'M A SHOE BOMBER!"
A shoe bomber, eh?
I don't really know what a shoe bomber is. (He probably doesn't either. I think he just said the first thing that popped out of his mouth.) Well, I cracked up laughing. Yes, I was laughing at the guy while I was on the phone with him. Probably not the most professional thing to do, but seriously. A shoe bomber?
He went ape on me.
"YOU PEOPLE STOP CALLING! YOU CALL ALL THE TIME AND DON'T SAY ANYTHING! I AM SO MAD, I NEVER WANT YOU TO CALL ME AGAIN," etc.
Please recall the previous lesson about not yelling at telemarketers. (This gent obviously hasn't read my blog.) Anyway, instead of making me annoyed, this time the guy just cracked me up. That may have been my first mistake. I said to him, "Sir, I'm sorry we've been calling you so much. I'll get this removed." Yadda yadda yadda. Well this guy comes back with, "YOU'D BETTER NOT! I'M A SHOE BOMBER!"
A shoe bomber, eh?
I don't really know what a shoe bomber is. (He probably doesn't either. I think he just said the first thing that popped out of his mouth.) Well, I cracked up laughing. Yes, I was laughing at the guy while I was on the phone with him. Probably not the most professional thing to do, but seriously. A shoe bomber?
If you can't stand Telemarketing, watch the Panda.
Watching the panda. It's a full time job, and somebody's got to do it.
I'm a panda freak. Ever since I found out we were going to see pandas when we were in China, I've been obsessed with the fuzzy little critters. I talked about them the entire time we were there, I about had cardiac arrest when we went to the panda park in Chengdu and I got to hold one, and Joey even bought me two pandas done in Chinese silk embroidery. They've got a place of honor on my wall. :)
About a month or two ago, my husband sent me the greatest link in the world. It's a 24/7 webcam on the pandas at the National Zoo. I really enjoy watching the baby panda Tai Shan climb and roll and eat bamboo. His mom, Mei Xiang is also funny to watch with him, she bats him around and lets him crawl all over her.
There are many days where I'd go positively stark-raving mad if it weren't for the little panda. Telemarketers are very fragile since we sit around all day waiting to get yelled at. The panda is theraputic because he does cute stuff all day long. I can watch him for hours and hours and somehow watching his little furry antics takes the edge off an excruciatingly long day.
So for those of you who need an exotic vacation without leaving your cubie? Check out the baby panda. http://nationalzoo.si.edu/Animals/GiantPandas/default.cfm He's cute enough to perk ANYBODY up.
I'd better get back to "work" now. I need to check on the panda and see if he's up.
I'm a panda freak. Ever since I found out we were going to see pandas when we were in China, I've been obsessed with the fuzzy little critters. I talked about them the entire time we were there, I about had cardiac arrest when we went to the panda park in Chengdu and I got to hold one, and Joey even bought me two pandas done in Chinese silk embroidery. They've got a place of honor on my wall. :)
About a month or two ago, my husband sent me the greatest link in the world. It's a 24/7 webcam on the pandas at the National Zoo. I really enjoy watching the baby panda Tai Shan climb and roll and eat bamboo. His mom, Mei Xiang is also funny to watch with him, she bats him around and lets him crawl all over her.
There are many days where I'd go positively stark-raving mad if it weren't for the little panda. Telemarketers are very fragile since we sit around all day waiting to get yelled at. The panda is theraputic because he does cute stuff all day long. I can watch him for hours and hours and somehow watching his little furry antics takes the edge off an excruciatingly long day.
So for those of you who need an exotic vacation without leaving your cubie? Check out the baby panda. http://nationalzoo.si.edu/Animals/GiantPandas/default.cfm He's cute enough to perk ANYBODY up.
I'd better get back to "work" now. I need to check on the panda and see if he's up.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Groundhog Day: Why?!
This one's not really about telemarketing.
It's Groundhog Day. I have so many questions about Groundhog Day; the whole thing just doesn't make sense to me. First of all, there's the names of those poor groundhogs. I can't even spell most of them! Punxsutawney Phil, General Beauregard Lee, Wiarton Willie, and Shubenacadie Sam are the worst ones I saw, but seriously. How does one even begin to pronounce most of those? Looks like someone just picked a bunch of letters and stuck them together to make a "word".
But I digress. What do the people do at all of these places if the groundhog doesn't come out of his hole? What if he died over night? Do they have backup groundhogs? Why does the groundhog in that Punxsutawney place decide whether or not I get more winter or less winter? And what if he can't see his shadow because he's facing the wrong way--then what! Why does it mean that we'll have 6 more weeks of winter if he sees his shadow? Seems to me that if it's nice outside and he sees his shadow then winter will be over sooner. And who really cares about a little groundhog anyway? Why does he get to pick the weather?
See? Groundhog Day makes no sense. (My husband is going to be so glad when it's over so that I don't pester him with my incessant questions about it.) I'd better quit thinking about all this and go back to my telemarketing. I couldn't find my perky pink Nalgene bottle this morning, so I'm stuck drinking out of my neon green Tiki Totem glass from Maui-Wowi. It's just not the same. The creepy face on the side gives me the jibblies, but it's better than getting dehydrated.
Hug your telemarketer today.
It's Groundhog Day. I have so many questions about Groundhog Day; the whole thing just doesn't make sense to me. First of all, there's the names of those poor groundhogs. I can't even spell most of them! Punxsutawney Phil, General Beauregard Lee, Wiarton Willie, and Shubenacadie Sam are the worst ones I saw, but seriously. How does one even begin to pronounce most of those? Looks like someone just picked a bunch of letters and stuck them together to make a "word".
But I digress. What do the people do at all of these places if the groundhog doesn't come out of his hole? What if he died over night? Do they have backup groundhogs? Why does the groundhog in that Punxsutawney place decide whether or not I get more winter or less winter? And what if he can't see his shadow because he's facing the wrong way--then what! Why does it mean that we'll have 6 more weeks of winter if he sees his shadow? Seems to me that if it's nice outside and he sees his shadow then winter will be over sooner. And who really cares about a little groundhog anyway? Why does he get to pick the weather?
See? Groundhog Day makes no sense. (My husband is going to be so glad when it's over so that I don't pester him with my incessant questions about it.) I'd better quit thinking about all this and go back to my telemarketing. I couldn't find my perky pink Nalgene bottle this morning, so I'm stuck drinking out of my neon green Tiki Totem glass from Maui-Wowi. It's just not the same. The creepy face on the side gives me the jibblies, but it's better than getting dehydrated.
Hug your telemarketer today.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
I Love Biohazard Treats!
Today started out really good. Joey brought me a Biohazard Bagel yesterday and I ate it for breakfast. Usually any treat Joey brings me in a Biohazard bag is really good. (Wait, perhaps I should explain. He works in the NICU and Biohazard bags are like glorified ziplocs. They make perfect doggy bags.)
Anyway, today I want to talk about being nice to telemarketers. See, I hate it when telemarketers call my house. I used to be rather rude to them. The next time a telemarketer interrupts you at home, here's what you need to do. Nicely say, "No thank you" and then hang up. None of this polite "Well, I'm really not interested" stuff. We have to rebuttal three times no matter how nice you are about "Well, I'm really not interested". Save everyone a lot of trouble and nicely say "No thank you" and hang up. Or, nicely ask to be removed from the calling list. Pretty much anything remotely nice, without swearing!, will be appreciated by the telemarketer. I feel qualified to speak for us all.
I'd better get back to cutting out my paper dolls. Joey snagged some for me from the NICU (see, great things come from there) and I'm making cards for my friends.
Tomorrow's Groundhog Day. I can't wait to post.
Anyway, today I want to talk about being nice to telemarketers. See, I hate it when telemarketers call my house. I used to be rather rude to them. The next time a telemarketer interrupts you at home, here's what you need to do. Nicely say, "No thank you" and then hang up. None of this polite "Well, I'm really not interested" stuff. We have to rebuttal three times no matter how nice you are about "Well, I'm really not interested". Save everyone a lot of trouble and nicely say "No thank you" and hang up. Or, nicely ask to be removed from the calling list. Pretty much anything remotely nice, without swearing!, will be appreciated by the telemarketer. I feel qualified to speak for us all.
I'd better get back to cutting out my paper dolls. Joey snagged some for me from the NICU (see, great things come from there) and I'm making cards for my friends.
Tomorrow's Groundhog Day. I can't wait to post.
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