No need to tell you what inspired today’s post. I love telemarketers and robo-callers about as much as I love doggy kisses right after they finished drinking out of the toilet. The fiends have the art of bugging you down to a finely-tuned science for they always seem to know when I’m preoccupied with a critical task for that’s when they usually call. And they never want to shoot the breeze either. Imagine that. I’m always down for a friendly chat but they opt for giving me their canned sales spiel instead and frankly that’s a bit of a turn-off. Call me a spoiled sport but I’d rather be boiled in oil by a pack of starving cannibals before having to listen to some goober sell me on something I don’t need or couldn’t care less about.
It could be worse I guess. They could be coming to my home in person to sell me something. But isn’t that what they used to do back in the day? I believe they were called door to door salesmen back then. But that was before my time when the world was a friendlier place and even the salesmen had an unspoken code of honor. No more.
But, on the other hand, I’m grateful for those telemarketers who continue to call and bug me for they give me the opportunity to exercise patience and empathy for my fellow man lest I blow a gasket. And that surely wouldn’t be pretty. Yes, I am truly a better and more saintly guy, the kind of guy whom would be more compassionate and understanding. The kind of dreamboat that all the pretty women of the world dream of bagging for their very own hubby-wubby thanks to the pesky telemarketers and sales reps that take the time out of their worthless lives to pester me with their inane and babbling calls. I shudder to think what I might have ended up becoming had I never had a telemarketer call me. I guess I ought to be grateful shouldn’t I?!! Maybe, but I’ll confess that I still enjoy telling them where they can go.
