Him: Hello, I'm looking for -- Allen Hickerson?
Me: (blandly) This is he.
Him: Hi, Mr Hickerson, this is Dirk (not Dirk's real name) with the customer relations division of Quackensnort Industries. How are you doing today?
Me: Fine, thanks, and you?
Him: Good. Mr Hickerson, we want to send you a free gift card that you can use in any of our Quackensnort Great Lakes area stores.
Me: Um, wait a minute. I'm nowhere near the Great Lakes, so I don't think it would be of much use to me.
Him: This is for all the Quackensnort stores in the Great Lakes states, and Illinois is a Great Lakes state!
Me: Oh, right. Chicago. Sorry. (in central IL, we have tendency to forget that Chicago is actually part of our state--especially if we're not Cubs fans. Okay! Okay! I'm just lousy at geography!)
Him: (frustratedly disgusted) You know what, this isn't even for you. click.
I think Dirk had been having a bad day. I really wasn't trying to frustrate him, annoy him, or otherwise harass him! I didn't even get to say, "No, thank you. I'm not interested."
I didn't get to try out anything fancy like, "Well, I've actually taken a vow of poverty recently, and a card like that only encourages spending and materialism, so I'm gonna' have to say No." Or, when they ask me how I'm doing, respond with, "Not bad for a man with less than two weeks to live!" (This is not an actual false claim that I have less than two weeks to live, just that I'm doing surprisingly well for someone who is in that condition. Or, "
Well, Dirk, I'm sorry that I was the last idiotic straw in your daily drudge at telemarketing. Hope you have a better one tomorrow.
Listening to: "Persuasive Percussion: La Cucaracha," Terry Snyder & The All Stars
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