Robo-calls. We all get them, we all ignore them, we try to put them out of our minds. Every so often, though, it’s a legitimate call that we missed because . . . . . well, it came from a cell phone number we didn’t recognize or a destination that seemed familiar, so maybe we should answer . . . .
I’ve had four – I count them – four calls just this afternoon from four different locations, but all with the same female voice, informing me that they’ve been trying to contact me about lowering my credit card interest rates. Typically, she gets as far as “We’ve been trying to . . “ and click – I hang up. The message is the same – “If I don’t respond, that may be my final call from them.” Please do. How do I make that happen? Today, I thought perhaps I’d try a different strategy. I pressed “one” to talk to a representative. I politely started to ask her to remove my number from her call base when she hung up on me!! I heard a “click” and then a dial tone. I know, right? The representative was rather put out that I’d asked to speak to her, or perhaps that I didn’t say, “Sure lower my rates.” Comedian Jerry Seinfeld had a great line about telemarketers. He’d ask them for their home phone numbers, so he could call them back at dinner time. When of course they refused, he’d ask, “Oh, you find that annoying too?”
A few weeks ago, I had an interesting exchange with someone named Amahl, who told me he was a chief executive at Publishers Clearing House. I thought, ok, here it is. I’ve won the big one, although quite honestly I didn’t recall PCH moving its headquarters to Pakistan. No matter. Amahl told me we would become close associates, “Get to know each other well” I believe were his exact words, and that I had won eight million dollars. Now, I submit entries to Publishers Clearing House almost on a daily basis, and have even bought all kinds of stuff from them, most of it now resting comfortably in a drawer or gathering dust in the basement. However, I did know two things. We were between cycles when prizes were awarded, and I have never seen an eight-million dollar prize – $5,000 or $10,000 for life, a million dollars here or there, but nothing in the eight million dollar range. Amahl spent some time telling me how lucky I was and what a great opportunity this would be. After a few minutes, he explained the process. I was to go to the Post Office – “Was I near a Post Office?” and I assured him I was, fill out an affidavit guaranteeing who I claimed to be, and send that on to him with a certified check for eight hundred forty-six dollars, and he, my close friend, would process my winnings personally. I thanked him profusely for his kind assistance and hung up. Not thirty seconds later, he called back and was most indignant that “You hung up on me.” I told him that that’s pretty much what I do with scams and scammers, wished him well, “my Nigerian Prince”, and hung up again. He didn’t call back, so it’s just possible he’s not with the prize division of PCH.
I dare say that the vast majority of calls we get every day are robo-calls. Unwanted solicitations for stuff we don’t want, donations we don’t want to make, and people we don’t want to talk to.
Some time ago, I received a call from the “Firemen’s Volunteer Association”. This sounded like the Firemen’s version of Doctors Without Borders, something truly worthy, so I committed a small donation. The paperwork would be on its way, and would I please send a check immediately on its arrival. I said I would. Three days later, the letter and return envelope arrived. The next morning, at 8 AM, they called back, asking me to put my donation on a credit card to “save time”. I’d read the letter with the donation card, and it turns out, it had nothing to do with Firemen, but rather it was a political action committee that “Worked to elect friendly candidates on behalf of firemen’s issues”. Really? Nobody has greater respect for the folks that work in fire prevention and firefighting, but this was outrageous. When I started to explain why I would not be honoring the donation, he, like the credit card lady, hung up.
As a resident of a condo, it’s fun when we get calls from roofing and siding, painting, lawn treatment, and other companies that are searching for homeowners. Usually, I stop them fairly soon, but sometimes, and I must admit a bit maliciously, I’ll let them give their pitch, and then at the end say, “So, I live in a condo – how would that work?” As it’s a real live person, they apologize and try to put on a happy face over the phone. I can imagine what that’s like, when it’s your living.
I get that robo-calls allow some businesses to make, like, a jillion calls a day, whereas a whole bunch of people sitting at a phone bank can’t make their dialing fingers work that fast. We all understand that when there was a live person on the line, it’s creating employment. Once again, however, jobs are being lost to technology, and yet our lives are not better. If anything, it’s a bit worse. Another triumph for big business. The whole cycle is terribly disruptive to those of us that are home most of the day, and in particular taking afternoon naps (and for this, I refer you to my previous blog, “The Art of the Nap”), or right at dinner time. It’s upsetting to put things down and dash to the phone only to find that the call is from “Anonymous” in the Cayman Islands. The most bizarre ones, and they come fairly frequently, say “Unavailable”. For heaven’s sake, if you’re unavailable, don’t call me in the first place. I have better things to do. At the very least, wait until you’re available. I expect to see “Available Now” pop up on caller ID from now on. Or that delightful voice that says, “Please hold for the next operator.” No, no. The operator needs to be ready and anxious to talk to me. Caller ID allows us to screen some of the calls, but now they’re getting sneaky. They come as “cell number” with a local area code, so I think it might be someone I know. Or they list a name I don’t recognize, so I’ve prepared my best and most soothing “I think you’ve got the wrong number”, only to be greeted with “We’ve been trying to reach you” from a prerecorded voice. (Maybe I could get a part time job doing prerecorded voices. I certainly can sound reprimanding.)
Not really robo-calls, but some I find entertaining, are the ones that come from “Joe, from the State Policemen’s Association.” I respond, “Hi Joe. How are you. We haven’t spoken since last spring. Things well with the family?” I do this because they always have that ice-breaking joviality, as if we’ve been friends for years. I can almost hear the wheels turning, that inner voice on the other end of the line saying, “Do I know this guy?” Once, I asked the man on the phone why, if he’s calling on behalf of the State Police, he’s calling from Topeka. That ramps up the interaction a bit, as he’s forced to admit that he’s a professional fundraiser at a call center, and I can feel him squirming in the seat in Topeka. I’ve been told that many of these professional fundraisers are handicapped people, so often I’ll relent and make a small contribution. Of course, then they have to put a supervisor on the line to confirm the transaction, like we’re building a mall together in Abu Dhabi. Just so you’ll all know, the supervisor is a specialist in mispronouncing street names, so their role is essential. They always say “wind-ing”. Has nobody ever heard of a WINDing stream? As a family-oriented publication, I can’t tell you what they do with “Londonderry”. I upset them because I won’t give a credit card number over the phone, so I request that, if they want their money, they need to send me something and I’ll send back a check. Then I get the third degree. “You’re sure you’ll send it back if I go to all that trouble? Three days, no more. Pinky-swear? If you don’t, I’ll be calling back again.” I’m sure you will.
As a public service, I’d like to thank Alexander Graham Bell for spreading joy and peace in our world, and to all the brilliant engineers that have expanded on the principles of invasion of privacy. And I’d like to thank “anonymous” and “unavailable” everywhere for coming into our homes many times a day to make sure we can’t sleep past 8 AM, can’t take a nap, and can’t eat our dinner without interruption. Phones – we can’t live with them, and we can’t survive without them. I’m thinking . . . .no.
I'm Thinking...No! 