The True Life of a Telemarketer

The True Life of a Telemarketer

I hate to be poked. Really I do. It’s like this odd twitchy little pet peeve that absolutely drives me nuts. This of course means that my little sister feels that it is the most appropriate thing to do when she sees me. Repeatedly.

Whatever part of the godforsaken universe it was that decided that it was a good idea to allow people to flex their finger was obviously a sadistic basterd. Therefore, as would be the logical plan, I have dedicated my life to discovering this entity. What I will do when I find it is still up in the air. When I was younger, I decided to make a list of punishments, including babbling about the chemical properties of broccoli, but after using up 9 pens and getting yelled up for using all the available computer paper in the house, I gave up on that one.

Naturally, with a life goal like that, most people would assume I am an astronomer, philosopher, or even a religious leader, but no, I’m a writer. Or, at least I will be one day. The actual effort and motivation needed to actually begin the bestselling story of my life is a little short in coming and so in the meantime, I have taken it as part of my duty to become one of the few, the brave. Yes that’s right ladies and gentlemen, I’m a telemarketer.

Now don’t you go and mock me. Someone has to do it, and the money keeps me and Buddy, my lovely clichéd little mutt, fed and housed in a little apartment with just enough character for an aspiring writer. Like the light switch hidden behind the fridge and the water faucet that needs to be encouraged to give hot water.

Surprisingly enough, my job does serve as a menial source of amusement to me. Well, it’s that or the whole system simply pushed me into insanity a bit earlier than planned. Either one is entirely possible. Still, I have had several memorable conversations. One of which was just last Tuesday.

“Hello?” said a voice on the other end, sounding irritated.

“Hello, is Mr. Thomas available?” I asked, monotone as usual.

“This is Tony’s pizza; did you want to order a pie?” The voice, presumably Mr. Tomas inquired on the other line. His obvious goal had been to get me to hang up. Amateur.

“THE Tony’s pizza? The one on Mark and 20th St.? How lucky!” Without even giving him a second to breathe, I continued on to babble about the various specials I had heard of and what obscure toppings I was in the mood for. Needless to say he decided to hang up the telephone. Score one/zero for the telemarketers.

Probably the greatest source of amusement for me though, comes from those few people who decide to humor me and let me speak for a while before trying to politely say no. Trying being the key word here of course. In that situation, several different moods can be used, my favorite of course, being angst.

“Please don’t hang up on me! You don’t understand! My boyfriend left me yesterday and my father died last week, I lost my last job trying to take care of my father and now I’m stuck in this horrible position because it was the only place I could find work. I can hardly afford food for me and my 3 year old, and the manager said he would fire me if I don’t sell something today!” A dramatic sob or two at the end and they’re sold. I’m not a professional for nothing.

I don’t exactly pretend to be an amazing exciting person. Friday night pizza with a little boob toob included and I’m happy as a clam shell. Which is really a funny phrase, but hey, who am I to challenge the all encompassing power of catch phrases? In fact, the proverbial ‘they’ has my undying gratitude for being the source of over half the misunderstandings that make up comedy television.

Due to the constant harassment of my family I am currently looking for a job further up in my industry. Or at least that’s what they think. In reality, how much higher can someone get in my industry? Manager of the telemarketers? Oh goody. Nah, I’m fairly content with life and see little to no reason to change it at all. Eventually my muses will return from the bottomless pit they undoubtedly fell into on their way to my mind, and I will begin on my masterful piece of literary work. Until then though, bothering to stay up for the Daily Show up will have to be my great achievement.