I just received an annoying phone call. I was originally not sure if it was on my office phone or on my home phone, because I was outside at the time and the phone I had with me rings on all the lines. I answered:
“Cable Office. Michael.”
“Could I speak to Denise, please?”
That’s actually a new one… I get calls all the time for other names… but I can’t remember getting calls for Denise before.
You might be tempted to laugh and ask, “why didn’t you just ask, ‘can I take a message?’ or say ‘Denise is 12 years old… what business do you have with my daughter?’ or even ‘My wife, Denise, left me with the kids and a bunch of bills and ran off with a guy named Hank, who rides a motorcycle. Is that you, Hank? I’ll kill you if I find you!’”
The answer to your question is that most of the wrong-number calls I get are collection agencies — not looking for me, mind you — they’re looking for whoever used to have whichever of my numbers they’re calling. The most annoying thing about this is that the person doing the calling is usually working behind an automated system, so they don’t even know what number they called. Srsly! So a little fun, here, is not in order — if I offer, jokingly, to take a message, I’ll have a hard time convincing the bill collector that I was kidding.
Back to the phone call.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone named ‘Denise.’”
“Would you be a registered voter, sir?”
“I would be.”
A political poll, presumably. Fine. Never mind that I clearly answered the phone as not only a company, but as a media company — the kind of people political callers really don’t want to talk to. I guess he wasn’t paying attention. That isn’t surprising, considering what ensued.
The precise words of the caller are not 100% clear in my memory… but here are the points I remember from the brief encounter:
- Some guy is running for county commissioner, and he had something to do with the call.
- The reason they were calling was just to encourage me to vote (as opposed to vote for the guy funding the call… uh huh).
- The guy’s opponent was Marcey Gregory.
- Marcey Gregory sucks, and I should not vote for her unless I want higher taxes.
Hey — that’s not me saying that — I don’t know Marcey Gregory… this was just what the guy was trying to imply, when he told me about Marcey Gregory’s desire to raise taxes, blah, blah, blah, unlike her opponent.
Well, this is where it gets a little confusing. I live in Stillwater, Oklahoma, and I don’t recall hearing of Marcey Gregory. I have business lines from three other counties (in two different states) that also ring in here, and I don’t really have a way of knowing which number was called.
So naturally, I asked: “What county are we talking about, here?”
“well, uh, sir, it is uh, the, uh present county, and Marcey Gregory has [more non-specific badmouthing of Marcey Gregory]”
“Hang on a second, dude… I need to ask you again, what county are they running in?”
“Click.”
Nice. Talk about feeling the love. They’re a telemarketing company, hired by Marcey Gregory’s opponent, to convince me to vote for him, and they don’t even know what county they’re calling me about… How lame can you get? And then to hang up instead of doing something — anything — to look legitimate.
Possible alternative actions for the telemarketer:
- Actually be in Marcey Gregory’s opponent’s county.
- Know what he’s doing in the first place.
- Look at his cheat sheet and say, “Oh — why, right here in Sedgwick County, of course. You live in Colwich, right?” (He wouldn’t be right, but that’s the exchange from where where my “Wichita” telephone number rings in.)
- Laugh, and say, “wow, I’m embarrassed to admit it, sir, but actually, I’m in a call center in Poway, California, and we were hired by Marcey Gregory’s opponent, because she sucks, and we’re calling a lot of different people… Let me look that up for you. And by the way, Marcey Gregory sucks.”
I actually had to look it up to find out that it’s Sedgwick County, Kansas. Yes, I have a phone line there. Yes, I’ve had that number for over a year. Yes, it’s a business phone, not a residential one. No, I don’t know Denise. And since it’s unlikely she’ll call to check, I can’t even take a message.
Denise — call me. You know the number.
I looked at the caller ID after looking up Marcey Gregory online. The caller ID says “Wireless Caller, Private Number.”
I always answer my phone, and I never block my number, because I find it very annoying when people (like one guy I know) block their number when making calls, or (like my mother) ignore calls from numbers they don’t recognize.
I guess this guy must work for Earl’s Budget Telemarketing, Screen Door Repair, and Small Engine Service. (Apparent Motto: we poll people using our cell phones, with our ‘free nights and weekends.’”) Maybe it was Earl, himself. Not cool, Earl.
This is Marcey Gregory. You doubtless will now remember her name, like I do, but... uh...Have you noticed anything conspicuously absent from this post?
Yep. It’s the name of Marcey Gregory’s opponent.
I haven’t mentioned it, because I don’t remember it.
My telemarketer buddy was so busy telling me Marcey sucks that he didn’t impose the name of the “good guy” on my subconscious.
But I remember Marcey’s name, and this whole incident has called the election to mind and prompted me to investigate it further.
For example, the top page of the web site of the City of Goddard, Kansas, where Marcey Gregory is mayor, contains a letter from the Goddard City Council praising her fiscal responsibility and decrying falsehoods being parlayed by her opponent... whoever that may be.
If I were registered to vote in Sedgwick County, that’s probably the name I’d remember when I went to mark my ballot, even though when it came down to it, I might not agree with her on the issues — I really don’t know.
Ironic, though, isn’t it?
— 2008-11-08 21:30 ETA: Bummer. Marcey Gregory lost. She was the only democrat I was pullin’ for in the whole election cycle. Her opponent, by the way, was “Karl Peterjohn.” Gfnnckk. Sorry. Milk coming out of my nose. Beavis would have a field-day.
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