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!!!
Friday, February 17, 2006
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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