I’ve Never Heard of That Before
This is a phrase that gets used a lot with our dog. For example, the conversation goes like this:
Home Depot Guy – You can use this clip on the dog run.
Us – No, our dog can undo those.
Home Depot Guy – Then use a Caribeaner.
Us – No, he can unscrew them.
Home Depot Guy – Really!? I’ve Never Heard of That Before.
Or regarding the Indestructable Ball (which is advertised as both Lion-proof and Elephant-proof.)
Us – We’d like to return this. It didn’t work out.
PetCo Girl – Wow, we’ve never had an Indestructable Ball Come back before. What did this?
Us – Our dog. And you should check out the time on the receipt.
PetCo Girl – Holy $#it! You only bought it four hours ago!
Yes, not only had the outer layer of ball been scratched within an inch of it’s life, half the ball had been inverted into the other side. Indestructable, my foot.
Hercamer has eaten the siding off my father’s house (Thanks for letting us stay with you last summer!) He peeled and chewed one quarter of the side in five minutes. The neighbor yelled across the fence, “Hey, your dog is eating your house!”
Hercamer put serious teethmarks into a steel doorknob. Yup, you read that right, steel.
He scales any kind of fencing. Chain link is super-easy, he just sticks his feet in and climbs like a person until he levers himself over the top – piece of cake. I have no idea how he got over the 7-foot vinyl fence without leaving any marks. SuperDog? But I know he piled old wood and a piece of crate to make a ladder to get over the cinderblock fence.
He’s learned how to open every door in every house we’ve lived in. And he can open child proof locks on cabinet doors and drawers. Yeah, the kids got through those really quick, too – Did Hercamer teach them how? All in all, they were just a waste of money and a lot of frustration until I gave up and unscrewed the suckers.
Hercamer uses his toys (non round ones only) as doorstops. I guess turning the knob was just too pesky!
On the upside, he was very cautious about who got to go near his babies (our kids). There were a few times an unsavory sort would try to come near one of the kids or start a conversation. It was awesome to be able to shrug and say, “I’m sorry about the dog growling at you, but he doesn’t let anyone near the kids.” I never added, ‘anyone he doesn’t like’.
Most recently, Hercamer unscrewed the caribeaner on his dog run and went to check out the neighborhood right after we moved to Tennessee. (We do still use the caribeaners because they won’t keep him, but they do slow him down . . . a bit.) When we went to pick him up at the neigbor’s house, the nice man said, “The dog’s in the backyard. I put him up on the porch so he wouldn’t wander further away, but he jumped over the railing. I hope he’s not hurt. It is a second story porch.”
I looked up. The railing on the porch was just that – railing. So Hercamer could see through it; he knew exactly how far he was jumping. I said, “Oh, he’s done stuff like that before. Don’t worry about it.”
I didn’t add, “I’m just grateful he didn’t eat the siding off your house!”
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Houdini – part 1
Don’t Fence Me In
Anyone who has ever gotten close to a pet can tell you that they think and feel. Maybe not the same as people, but pretty darn near it. In the never-ending quest to distinguish humanity from animals, the researchers have told us that humans are the only ones who use tools, who have true language, who feel emotions. This has all been proved pretty much untrue – and if it hadn’t been, I could have shown it with Hercamer. And, with Hercamer, I can show that humans don’t have the monopoly on insanity either.
First, Hercamer is an eleven-year-old Terrier/German Shepherd mix (we think). And, no he’s not named after the war general, the town in New York, or the Diamond mines. While those are all great ideas, our Hercamer is named after a childhood imaginary friend. (It’s really best if you just don’t ask.)
We got him at the pound when he was tiny and still quite a mystery. As we went along we learned that he was bigger than we thought he’d be. He’s loyal beyond belief. He’s also very bright and has almost no pain receptors. Yeah, think on that for a while.
From day one (when he repeatedly threw himself into the pool, even though he couldn’t get out) he’s proved to be a handful. More than once we have decided to strap a camera on his head and give him his own internet reality show.
He is fifty-five pounds of ferocious looking sweetheart. To this day we refer to him as our ‘puppy’, even though I once had someone pull his truck over to the side of the road and meet me on the sidewalk to inform me ‘that ain’t no puppy’.
While Hercamer is well trained in general, We get a lot of calls that begin, ‘Um, I think I have your dog.’ This first happened when we were in Los Feliz (an area in LA). We had a small patch of yard in front of our apartment and we were determined our puppy would have a place to play. So, with smiles on our faces, we installed one of those invisible fences. We buried the wire around the edge of the yard, planted the small flags to show Hercamer the boundary and checked the shock collar.
No, this isn’t inhumane. The dog doesn’t get shocked! You see, he learns where he can go – he sees the flags, the collar beeps a warning when he gets close, so your puppy never has to feel the sting. Even the kit says eventually you can just put up extra flags and your dog won’t go near them!
We did everything just as the directions suggested. We trained Hercamer with the collar, were vigilant about keeping to the suggestions, we did it just like we were supposed to.
I think the invisible fence worked for three days.
Hercamer tested it one day: he ignored the beeping and jumped through. All we heard was the yelp as the shock got him. We brought him back in and gave him that look. The one that says ‘you learned your lesson, didn’t you?’
Well, Hercamer learned his lesson. Remember that he has almost no pain receptors? We didn’t know that at the time. But what Hercamer learned was that it was worth it. After that first day, the yard was good enough until something interesting went by. Then a brief yelp was all the warning we got. Hercamer would be gone. He did this, walking back and forth through a shock that no dog in his right mind would cross. He burned a patch of fur off his neck before we even realized it. We decided to cut our losses before we looked like we were abusing him. We couldn’t return the invisible fence (a lesson we were doomed to repeat . . . repeatedly).It has been eleven years. And we still haven’t designed a Hercamer-proof fence. I kept telling myself that I am smarter than the dog. But there’s just no accounting for tenacity and a lack of pain receptors.
Anyone who has ever gotten close to a pet can tell you that they think and feel. Maybe not the same as people, but pretty darn near it. In the never-ending quest to distinguish humanity from animals, the researchers have told us that humans are the only ones who use tools, who have true language, who feel emotions. This has all been proved pretty much untrue – and if it hadn’t been, I could have shown it with Hercamer. And, with Hercamer, I can show that humans don’t have the monopoly on insanity either.
First, Hercamer is an eleven-year-old Terrier/German Shepherd mix (we think). And, no he’s not named after the war general, the town in New York, or the Diamond mines. While those are all great ideas, our Hercamer is named after a childhood imaginary friend. (It’s really best if you just don’t ask.)
We got him at the pound when he was tiny and still quite a mystery. As we went along we learned that he was bigger than we thought he’d be. He’s loyal beyond belief. He’s also very bright and has almost no pain receptors. Yeah, think on that for a while.
From day one (when he repeatedly threw himself into the pool, even though he couldn’t get out) he’s proved to be a handful. More than once we have decided to strap a camera on his head and give him his own internet reality show.
He is fifty-five pounds of ferocious looking sweetheart. To this day we refer to him as our ‘puppy’, even though I once had someone pull his truck over to the side of the road and meet me on the sidewalk to inform me ‘that ain’t no puppy’.
While Hercamer is well trained in general, We get a lot of calls that begin, ‘Um, I think I have your dog.’ This first happened when we were in Los Feliz (an area in LA). We had a small patch of yard in front of our apartment and we were determined our puppy would have a place to play. So, with smiles on our faces, we installed one of those invisible fences. We buried the wire around the edge of the yard, planted the small flags to show Hercamer the boundary and checked the shock collar.
No, this isn’t inhumane. The dog doesn’t get shocked! You see, he learns where he can go – he sees the flags, the collar beeps a warning when he gets close, so your puppy never has to feel the sting. Even the kit says eventually you can just put up extra flags and your dog won’t go near them!
We did everything just as the directions suggested. We trained Hercamer with the collar, were vigilant about keeping to the suggestions, we did it just like we were supposed to.
I think the invisible fence worked for three days.
Hercamer tested it one day: he ignored the beeping and jumped through. All we heard was the yelp as the shock got him. We brought him back in and gave him that look. The one that says ‘you learned your lesson, didn’t you?’
Well, Hercamer learned his lesson. Remember that he has almost no pain receptors? We didn’t know that at the time. But what Hercamer learned was that it was worth it. After that first day, the yard was good enough until something interesting went by. Then a brief yelp was all the warning we got. Hercamer would be gone. He did this, walking back and forth through a shock that no dog in his right mind would cross. He burned a patch of fur off his neck before we even realized it. We decided to cut our losses before we looked like we were abusing him. We couldn’t return the invisible fence (a lesson we were doomed to repeat . . . repeatedly).It has been eleven years. And we still haven’t designed a Hercamer-proof fence. I kept telling myself that I am smarter than the dog. But there’s just no accounting for tenacity and a lack of pain receptors.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Anti-matter
While I am familiar with the physics term ‘anti-matter’, I don’t necessarily agree that this is the best use of the words. I am becoming more convinced that the term shouldn’t be used as a noun describing a substance that exists to counterbalance matter as we know it. Or maybe, since ‘matter’ itself already has two meanings, ‘anti-matter’ can, too.
Because I can think of a lot of things that anti-matter. They don’t just fail to matter, they anti-matter. They suck meaning out of other things, maybe out of life.
I’m not just talking about your average conundrum like diet soda. Yes, it’s a conundrum. You drink it to stay thin – and therefore attractive. But all the chemicals actually age your skin faster. They age your body faster, too, making your kidneys work overtime. But that’s not what ‘anti-matter’ is about. That’s just a poor diet.
I’ll give my first example of things that anti-matter: When in lived in LA, I saw people jogging on Mulholland.
Let me explain. Mullholland is a beautiful road. It twists and turns at the top of the hills that divide Hollywood from North Hollywood. The views of both LA and the Valley are incredible. Lots of mornings it gets foggy and mysterious and amazing. But the reason the views are so great is because of the sheer drops on either, and often both, sides of the pavement. Because the sides drop away, there’s no shoulder.
Now start putting all the facts together. You have to jog inside the lines, in the lanes of traffic. The twists and turns mean you can’t see more than thirty feet at a time. And let’s throw in one more thing: almost every car coming around the blind corners is speeding. And the crazy joggers are in the road!
Now, I would buy that the joggers are trying to commit suicide. It would be a great way to do it. You’d get a beautiful view. You’re practically guaranteed to die from being hit, because the cars are going so fast. And you can rest assured that your family will get the benefits of your life insurance, because it won’t look like you were trying – I know there’s a clause that says they won’t pay out if you commit suicide, but thankfully no such clause exists against stupidity.
But if these people are trying to kill themselves, why jog? Why not just walk? Enjoy the view before you go! Even though the fumes are bad in LA, jogging – and therefore sucking down more bad air – won’t speed up the process. Jogging on Mullholland just makes no sense. And if you are jogging for your health . . . well . . . . at least you’ll be in good shape when you get hit.
Do you see? Do you see how much of my life has been sucked away by this thing that anti-matters?
There are other things, as well. Like two-sided gift wrap. It’s worse that they charge you more for this stuff, too. You can’t possible use both sides of the same piece! Again, I can think of a few ways to make this item work. For example, one side would say “Congratulations on your Wedding!” and the other could say “Congratulations on your Divorce!” This way you could save by not buying two rolls, but still know that you were prepared for anything. However, no one makes this particular paper (I’ve looked). Then there is the inherent problem that when your friend opens up his Wedding gift he finds ‘divorce’ paper on the inside. And, even though you paid the upcharge for the two-sided paper, you still wind up looking cheap.
The only real situation I can imagine for this product is to use it to wrap gifts for those uber-recyclers who save the paper from their presents to re-use it. This way they won’t necessarily look like they are recycling as they can use the other side. But since I don’t know any of these people, I’m at a loss on this one, too. It is yet another thing that anti-matters – that sucks time from my life.
This doesn’t stop it from being made, though. My kids’ elementary school is once again holding their fall fundraiser. We are expected to sell chocolates, cards, and – yes – two-sided gift wrap.
Hey, you don’t happen to want to buy some, do you?
Because I can think of a lot of things that anti-matter. They don’t just fail to matter, they anti-matter. They suck meaning out of other things, maybe out of life.
I’m not just talking about your average conundrum like diet soda. Yes, it’s a conundrum. You drink it to stay thin – and therefore attractive. But all the chemicals actually age your skin faster. They age your body faster, too, making your kidneys work overtime. But that’s not what ‘anti-matter’ is about. That’s just a poor diet.
I’ll give my first example of things that anti-matter: When in lived in LA, I saw people jogging on Mulholland.
Let me explain. Mullholland is a beautiful road. It twists and turns at the top of the hills that divide Hollywood from North Hollywood. The views of both LA and the Valley are incredible. Lots of mornings it gets foggy and mysterious and amazing. But the reason the views are so great is because of the sheer drops on either, and often both, sides of the pavement. Because the sides drop away, there’s no shoulder.
Now start putting all the facts together. You have to jog inside the lines, in the lanes of traffic. The twists and turns mean you can’t see more than thirty feet at a time. And let’s throw in one more thing: almost every car coming around the blind corners is speeding. And the crazy joggers are in the road!
Now, I would buy that the joggers are trying to commit suicide. It would be a great way to do it. You’d get a beautiful view. You’re practically guaranteed to die from being hit, because the cars are going so fast. And you can rest assured that your family will get the benefits of your life insurance, because it won’t look like you were trying – I know there’s a clause that says they won’t pay out if you commit suicide, but thankfully no such clause exists against stupidity.
But if these people are trying to kill themselves, why jog? Why not just walk? Enjoy the view before you go! Even though the fumes are bad in LA, jogging – and therefore sucking down more bad air – won’t speed up the process. Jogging on Mullholland just makes no sense. And if you are jogging for your health . . . well . . . . at least you’ll be in good shape when you get hit.
Do you see? Do you see how much of my life has been sucked away by this thing that anti-matters?
There are other things, as well. Like two-sided gift wrap. It’s worse that they charge you more for this stuff, too. You can’t possible use both sides of the same piece! Again, I can think of a few ways to make this item work. For example, one side would say “Congratulations on your Wedding!” and the other could say “Congratulations on your Divorce!” This way you could save by not buying two rolls, but still know that you were prepared for anything. However, no one makes this particular paper (I’ve looked). Then there is the inherent problem that when your friend opens up his Wedding gift he finds ‘divorce’ paper on the inside. And, even though you paid the upcharge for the two-sided paper, you still wind up looking cheap.
The only real situation I can imagine for this product is to use it to wrap gifts for those uber-recyclers who save the paper from their presents to re-use it. This way they won’t necessarily look like they are recycling as they can use the other side. But since I don’t know any of these people, I’m at a loss on this one, too. It is yet another thing that anti-matters – that sucks time from my life.
This doesn’t stop it from being made, though. My kids’ elementary school is once again holding their fall fundraiser. We are expected to sell chocolates, cards, and – yes – two-sided gift wrap.
Hey, you don’t happen to want to buy some, do you?
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Chaos
Let me start with this statement: I love Chaos, even though I think most of her problems are my fault.
You deserve what you get when you name a dog ‘Chaos’. I named her, therefore it’s my fault. But I love her.
Chaos is the second of our two dogs (and I am certain you will hear much more about both of them.) When we got her, she was a sweet, skinny little thing, so excited to be rescued from the pound that naming her ‘Chaos’ just didn’t seem so ominous. And her chaotic tendencies were funny because I knew she’d grow out of them.
My bad.
When we took her into the vet for the first time, even he had a hard time getting a hold of her. The vet laughed at her name and assured us that she would settle down, likely by her first birthday. At her one year check-up, he assured us that she would settle down by her second birthday. At her two year check, the vet said there was no way she’d still be like this in another year.
We promptly got ourselves another vet.
Chaos is now eight and shows no signs of slowing.
Watching her with our older dog is like watching those cartoons where the little dog runs circles around the big, bored dog saying, “Hey Spike, wanna play? Don’tcha wanna play? Spike?”
When we let her off her chain in the evening, she takes off. Her strides are long, her body stretching like a greyhound, and she races in a blur around the several acre track that is our yard. While she can thread the needle through the fence or an open doorway without ever missing, that’s because she already knows where those things are. It’s not like she’s paying attention.
I know, because I’ve had my legs taken out from under me more than once. Landing on your butt this way is referred to as a ‘drive by’ at our house.
While she responds to vocal and hand commands, (she can ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ with the best of them) she is still completely unable to stay still. If you’ve ever watched your cell phone vibrate its way across a table top, this is what it’s like to watch Chaos execute the ‘stay’ command. She may not have left the ‘sit’ or ‘lay’ position, but within three seconds she will be in an entirely different place than where you left her. And she does all of this with a fabulously blank stare.
She only relaxes when she’s asleep. And in this she chooses the extremes, too. When she sleeps, she does so on her side with her legs extended in front of her, her mouth lolling open and her tongue hanging out. She looks like she worked herself into a heart attack and just keeled over. And I’ll tell you, it’s really hard to find a pulse on a dog!
When Chaos is awake, she is like a spring – always poised to jump up and go. And if you don’t stop her, you’ll be lucky to spot her butt in the distance as she gets out of range to hear you yell “Chaos! Come back!” (I’m quite certain that my neighbors just love hearing this three mornings out of five.) Of course, all this happens after she has once again pissed off the two family cats by using them for hurdle practice. While she is clearly nucking futs, she’s a good puppy. At night, when we call her in, she always comes. But as soon as you hear the soft sound of thunder in the distance, you’d best step out of the doorway, or you’ve got about two seconds before you end up on your butt.
You deserve what you get when you name a dog ‘Chaos’. I named her, therefore it’s my fault. But I love her.
Chaos is the second of our two dogs (and I am certain you will hear much more about both of them.) When we got her, she was a sweet, skinny little thing, so excited to be rescued from the pound that naming her ‘Chaos’ just didn’t seem so ominous. And her chaotic tendencies were funny because I knew she’d grow out of them.
My bad.
When we took her into the vet for the first time, even he had a hard time getting a hold of her. The vet laughed at her name and assured us that she would settle down, likely by her first birthday. At her one year check-up, he assured us that she would settle down by her second birthday. At her two year check, the vet said there was no way she’d still be like this in another year.
We promptly got ourselves another vet.
Chaos is now eight and shows no signs of slowing.
Watching her with our older dog is like watching those cartoons where the little dog runs circles around the big, bored dog saying, “Hey Spike, wanna play? Don’tcha wanna play? Spike?”
When we let her off her chain in the evening, she takes off. Her strides are long, her body stretching like a greyhound, and she races in a blur around the several acre track that is our yard. While she can thread the needle through the fence or an open doorway without ever missing, that’s because she already knows where those things are. It’s not like she’s paying attention.
I know, because I’ve had my legs taken out from under me more than once. Landing on your butt this way is referred to as a ‘drive by’ at our house.
While she responds to vocal and hand commands, (she can ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ with the best of them) she is still completely unable to stay still. If you’ve ever watched your cell phone vibrate its way across a table top, this is what it’s like to watch Chaos execute the ‘stay’ command. She may not have left the ‘sit’ or ‘lay’ position, but within three seconds she will be in an entirely different place than where you left her. And she does all of this with a fabulously blank stare.
She only relaxes when she’s asleep. And in this she chooses the extremes, too. When she sleeps, she does so on her side with her legs extended in front of her, her mouth lolling open and her tongue hanging out. She looks like she worked herself into a heart attack and just keeled over. And I’ll tell you, it’s really hard to find a pulse on a dog!
When Chaos is awake, she is like a spring – always poised to jump up and go. And if you don’t stop her, you’ll be lucky to spot her butt in the distance as she gets out of range to hear you yell “Chaos! Come back!” (I’m quite certain that my neighbors just love hearing this three mornings out of five.) Of course, all this happens after she has once again pissed off the two family cats by using them for hurdle practice. While she is clearly nucking futs, she’s a good puppy. At night, when we call her in, she always comes. But as soon as you hear the soft sound of thunder in the distance, you’d best step out of the doorway, or you’ve got about two seconds before you end up on your butt.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Tele Me More - part 3
Tired
Just in case the telemarketers weren’t bad enough, there are just general rude people out there using phones. They mumble (or yell!) ‘wrong number’ and hang up on you. Hey, I got out of my chair - I left my work - to answer your wrong number, an apology wouldn’t kill you, would it?
When I lived in Florida there were a lot of wrong numbers. It’s just facts that Florida has a lot of old people and that a lot of old people don’t see so good. So they often punch the wrong digits on the phone. This is understandable. What’s not understandable is the person on the other end calling me a name because I tell them that I’m not Love’s Buffet. I was once accused of holding out a coupon on a microwave for a different senior. I swore up and down that I wasn’t at WalMart and that he’d called a private residence, but apparently Sheila (whoever she was) had used her wiles to get her way at WalMart and I was clearly on Sheila’s side. By that point I was firmly on the side of mandatory eye exams for everyone over sixty, but nobody was listening to me. (Maybe because they couldn’t hear?)
In Florida I became impressed by what people will demand when they think they have the right number. And by how polite some people could still be about general errors. One day my roommates and I received several calls about a tire sale. About the fifth call, the person asked is this 954-0411?
Yes, that was our number. We looked up the tire place in the phone book (954-0441) and called to ask if maybe they had misprinted the number in their ad. They swore they had not made a print error and they were downright mean about it. We believed them, after all, it was Florida and people did misdial all the time. But another ten calls down the road, we went out and bought a copy of the paper. Sure enough, there was our home number in the National Tire and Tread sale ad.
Given the previous rudeness of the tire folks, my roommates put me up to the call. AJ will tell’em! (Yes, the roots of my evil on the telephone go deep!)
So I called. I asked to speak to the manager. Dan came on the line and I explained that I had the ad in my hand and it was my phone number on the page. I was offering to do what we could to help when Dan began calling me an idiot. According to Dan, I clearly couldn’t read the paper, I didn’t know my own phone number and I needed to stop harassing him. I apologized and said good-bye.
You may have figured out already that I don’t take well to being called an idiot. I don’t think many people do, but I tend to fight back. So when I hung up I was greeted by three dumbfounded faces. What had I done? Why hadn’t I told him off? I mean, wasn’t that why I had been elected to make the call in the first place?
I just smiled. “We’re selling tires!”
All weekend long we kept someone posted by the phone. We told every tenth caller he had won a free set of tires. We gave out specials: like buy one for twenty dollars, get three free. We asked pertinent questions, diagnosed problems, and volunteered to rotate tires for a buck. Yes, we can get you in and out in twenty minutes! Yes, we have just that tire in stock! Of course, it has an eighty thousand mile warranty - it’s new technology, a really good tire. We gave polite help and correct directions to the store. And we told everyone to ask for Dan.
Just in case the telemarketers weren’t bad enough, there are just general rude people out there using phones. They mumble (or yell!) ‘wrong number’ and hang up on you. Hey, I got out of my chair - I left my work - to answer your wrong number, an apology wouldn’t kill you, would it?
When I lived in Florida there were a lot of wrong numbers. It’s just facts that Florida has a lot of old people and that a lot of old people don’t see so good. So they often punch the wrong digits on the phone. This is understandable. What’s not understandable is the person on the other end calling me a name because I tell them that I’m not Love’s Buffet. I was once accused of holding out a coupon on a microwave for a different senior. I swore up and down that I wasn’t at WalMart and that he’d called a private residence, but apparently Sheila (whoever she was) had used her wiles to get her way at WalMart and I was clearly on Sheila’s side. By that point I was firmly on the side of mandatory eye exams for everyone over sixty, but nobody was listening to me. (Maybe because they couldn’t hear?)
In Florida I became impressed by what people will demand when they think they have the right number. And by how polite some people could still be about general errors. One day my roommates and I received several calls about a tire sale. About the fifth call, the person asked is this 954-0411?
Yes, that was our number. We looked up the tire place in the phone book (954-0441) and called to ask if maybe they had misprinted the number in their ad. They swore they had not made a print error and they were downright mean about it. We believed them, after all, it was Florida and people did misdial all the time. But another ten calls down the road, we went out and bought a copy of the paper. Sure enough, there was our home number in the National Tire and Tread sale ad.
Given the previous rudeness of the tire folks, my roommates put me up to the call. AJ will tell’em! (Yes, the roots of my evil on the telephone go deep!)
So I called. I asked to speak to the manager. Dan came on the line and I explained that I had the ad in my hand and it was my phone number on the page. I was offering to do what we could to help when Dan began calling me an idiot. According to Dan, I clearly couldn’t read the paper, I didn’t know my own phone number and I needed to stop harassing him. I apologized and said good-bye.
You may have figured out already that I don’t take well to being called an idiot. I don’t think many people do, but I tend to fight back. So when I hung up I was greeted by three dumbfounded faces. What had I done? Why hadn’t I told him off? I mean, wasn’t that why I had been elected to make the call in the first place?
I just smiled. “We’re selling tires!”
All weekend long we kept someone posted by the phone. We told every tenth caller he had won a free set of tires. We gave out specials: like buy one for twenty dollars, get three free. We asked pertinent questions, diagnosed problems, and volunteered to rotate tires for a buck. Yes, we can get you in and out in twenty minutes! Yes, we have just that tire in stock! Of course, it has an eighty thousand mile warranty - it’s new technology, a really good tire. We gave polite help and correct directions to the store. And we told everyone to ask for Dan.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Tele Me More - part 2
Where has decency gone?
You may not have it in you to harass telemarketers simply for calling your house. While this has never stopped me, I do understand that they are just doing their job and that the job probably sucks in general. So having me call them a home-wrecker may not light up their day.
Still, you probably agree on my second point: if you call me then you’re rude to me, all bets are off. I faced this one just last week. I was mad at myself for answering the phone in the first place, but the woman verbally backed me into a corner. I really didn’t want to tell her that I’ve fallen prey to $80 annual charges before because I forgot to do the oh-so-easy call-back in 30 days to cancel. I wound up just being short with her, when I could have done so much more. *sigh* Opportunity lost is so sad.
While I admit that I can border on being mean, I do try very hard not to be more rude to the telemarketer than she is to me first. So, one morning at eight, when I was told that I must not be able to read clocks because it was actually nine a.m. I offered a very condescending (and satisfying) lecture on time zones. I don’t think the telemarketers are allowed to hang up on you. *smile*
But the one that takes the cake is a number that called the house for weeks. I didn’t answer, but they clogged my machine with ‘a very important message regarding your AT&T wireless service.’ I didn’t call back. After all, I don’t have AT&T wireless. I don’t have AT&T anything, and I don’t want it. But they escalated. They called three times in one day! So I called the number on my caller ID and waited.
“AT&T”
“Yes, you all have been calling me about my wireless service--”
“What’s your wireless number?”
“That’s just it. I don’t have AT&T Wireless.”
“Then why did you call?”
I held it together! Barely, but I did!
“I’d like to be removed from your call list. You’ve been calling me about an account that
I don’t have.”
“Then how did you get this number?”
Deep sigh! Remain in control!
“I just called back what was on my caller ID. From when you called me.” I rattled off the number.
“Oh, that’s not us. That’s Sprint.”
Yes, she swore until I got her manager on the phone that Sprint had been calling us from a line designated as AT&T and leaving us messages about our AT&T account. She also swore that the number I called wasn’t them - even though she acknowledged that she had picked up the phone and answered ‘AT&T’ when I dialed that number.
AT&T did remove me from their call list - which was a bit difficult since I wasn’t even on it to begin with. It worked - it was a whole two months before they left me another important message about my AT&T wireless service. I haven’t worked up the nerve to call them about it yet.
You may not have it in you to harass telemarketers simply for calling your house. While this has never stopped me, I do understand that they are just doing their job and that the job probably sucks in general. So having me call them a home-wrecker may not light up their day.
Still, you probably agree on my second point: if you call me then you’re rude to me, all bets are off. I faced this one just last week. I was mad at myself for answering the phone in the first place, but the woman verbally backed me into a corner. I really didn’t want to tell her that I’ve fallen prey to $80 annual charges before because I forgot to do the oh-so-easy call-back in 30 days to cancel. I wound up just being short with her, when I could have done so much more. *sigh* Opportunity lost is so sad.
While I admit that I can border on being mean, I do try very hard not to be more rude to the telemarketer than she is to me first. So, one morning at eight, when I was told that I must not be able to read clocks because it was actually nine a.m. I offered a very condescending (and satisfying) lecture on time zones. I don’t think the telemarketers are allowed to hang up on you. *smile*
But the one that takes the cake is a number that called the house for weeks. I didn’t answer, but they clogged my machine with ‘a very important message regarding your AT&T wireless service.’ I didn’t call back. After all, I don’t have AT&T wireless. I don’t have AT&T anything, and I don’t want it. But they escalated. They called three times in one day! So I called the number on my caller ID and waited.
“AT&T”
“Yes, you all have been calling me about my wireless service--”
“What’s your wireless number?”
“That’s just it. I don’t have AT&T Wireless.”
“Then why did you call?”
I held it together! Barely, but I did!
“I’d like to be removed from your call list. You’ve been calling me about an account that
I don’t have.”
“Then how did you get this number?”
Deep sigh! Remain in control!
“I just called back what was on my caller ID. From when you called me.” I rattled off the number.
“Oh, that’s not us. That’s Sprint.”
Yes, she swore until I got her manager on the phone that Sprint had been calling us from a line designated as AT&T and leaving us messages about our AT&T account. She also swore that the number I called wasn’t them - even though she acknowledged that she had picked up the phone and answered ‘AT&T’ when I dialed that number.
AT&T did remove me from their call list - which was a bit difficult since I wasn’t even on it to begin with. It worked - it was a whole two months before they left me another important message about my AT&T wireless service. I haven’t worked up the nerve to call them about it yet.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Tele Me More - part 1
Fun with Telemarketers
It was the internet pop-up that got you, wasn’t it? The one that had you saying ‘but Honey, they’ll send me a free laptop/plane ticket/gas card/you name it. The set-ups all look good until you realize that you can’t possibly subscribe to enough magazines to get said ‘free gift’ and by that point it’s too late. They have what they need - your email, your name, your address, and - worst! - your home phone number.
Then, they start calling. We don’t need the Birds or the Thing or Jaws anymore. We have telemarketers! It’s downright scary answering the phone when caller ID won’t tell you anything. Then you’re stuck. No, I don’t want a new cellular service. I have no desire to remodel my house. There is nothing - nothing! - you can say to make me want dish TV. And I don’t owe you an explanation why or another minute of my time.
My personal favorite thing to say is something I saw eons ago on TV. I think it was Ellen DeGeneres who was asked if she wanted to subscribe to the paper. She enthusiastically said ‘yes!’ then promptly hung up. The caveat here is that I think they can call you back.
An Ex of mine pointed out that you can tell when someone else is speaking to a telemarketer because they pick up the phone and say ‘hello . . . yes, this is he . . . . . . . . . . .’ then there is the long pause for the pitch. This is a good time to break in with, “Is that him!?” (feel free to use ‘her’ if you are female) “I thought you told that bastard you were through! You said you quit seeing him!”
If you’ve got the acting chops, it gets better.
When your significant other (who is probably laughing his/her ass off by this point) says It’s just a telemarketer. You get to come back with something along the lines of: I may have been stupid in the past but I won’t fall for that again. Sprinkle your ranting liberally with the need to save your marriage, how you have kids, how this breaks your heart.
Then, if you are really brave, get on the phone and tell that bastard/hussy not to call again. It’s over. Your wife/husband is home to stay and you won’t have your marriage torn apart again.
While you can’t threaten bodily harm, it is great fun to call them a liar every time they protest that they are just a telemarketer trying to get you to purchase that extended warranty on your car.
It almost makes it worth it to pick up the phone!
It was the internet pop-up that got you, wasn’t it? The one that had you saying ‘but Honey, they’ll send me a free laptop/plane ticket/gas card/you name it. The set-ups all look good until you realize that you can’t possibly subscribe to enough magazines to get said ‘free gift’ and by that point it’s too late. They have what they need - your email, your name, your address, and - worst! - your home phone number.
Then, they start calling. We don’t need the Birds or the Thing or Jaws anymore. We have telemarketers! It’s downright scary answering the phone when caller ID won’t tell you anything. Then you’re stuck. No, I don’t want a new cellular service. I have no desire to remodel my house. There is nothing - nothing! - you can say to make me want dish TV. And I don’t owe you an explanation why or another minute of my time.
My personal favorite thing to say is something I saw eons ago on TV. I think it was Ellen DeGeneres who was asked if she wanted to subscribe to the paper. She enthusiastically said ‘yes!’ then promptly hung up. The caveat here is that I think they can call you back.
An Ex of mine pointed out that you can tell when someone else is speaking to a telemarketer because they pick up the phone and say ‘hello . . . yes, this is he . . . . . . . . . . .’ then there is the long pause for the pitch. This is a good time to break in with, “Is that him!?” (feel free to use ‘her’ if you are female) “I thought you told that bastard you were through! You said you quit seeing him!”
If you’ve got the acting chops, it gets better.
When your significant other (who is probably laughing his/her ass off by this point) says It’s just a telemarketer. You get to come back with something along the lines of: I may have been stupid in the past but I won’t fall for that again. Sprinkle your ranting liberally with the need to save your marriage, how you have kids, how this breaks your heart.
Then, if you are really brave, get on the phone and tell that bastard/hussy not to call again. It’s over. Your wife/husband is home to stay and you won’t have your marriage torn apart again.
While you can’t threaten bodily harm, it is great fun to call them a liar every time they protest that they are just a telemarketer trying to get you to purchase that extended warranty on your car.
It almost makes it worth it to pick up the phone!
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