I’m always disappointed when
computerized tele-thieves call.
I prefer the real-life hucksters,
the ones I can try to convince
we went to college together, or
pretend I’m having some real
trouble hearing, ask them to tell
the hucksters in the background
to hold it down a bit, or get them to
endlessly repeat their questions.
Sometimes I just speak incessant
gibberish, or I tell them yes, I do
have a satellite connection because
I have sixty-seven television sets,
all of them always on, so that I never
have to bother changing channels.
Every once in a while, I like to
tell them, in my very best English,
that nobody at this number
speaks or understands English.
I know that they’re just trying to
make a living.
I spent a summer,
many years ago, doing the same:
trying to make appointments for
our roofers and siding “experts” to
come out, to look them over and
provide a “no-obligation estimate.”
I got paid by the hour, earning only
a tiny bonus for each call. If I was
persuasive enough to book a visit
the bonus tripled, but paydays were
never more than merely meager.
So I know I should just hang up;
let them go about their business of
trying to sell their business.
But
I’m a geezer now, getting by on
only my pittance of a pension, my
monthly Social Insecurity; and
no one else ever calls, so I have to
stretch things out as best I can.
But I draw the line at robos.
