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You ever get a voicemail from an unknown number, and it's like stepping into a mystery novel? "This is Agent Smith from the Bureau of Important Stuff. We need you to call us back urgently." First of all, Agent Smith, you can't fool me. I know you're calling from a call center in Idaho. I got a voicemail the other day that said, "This is your last chance to lower your credit card interest rate." Last chance? Are you threatening my credit score? Is this the voicemail version of the Godfather?
And why do they always leave these messages in such a hushed, urgent tone, like they're in the middle of a spy mission? "This is Mission Impossible: Lower Your APR Edition. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to press 1 now."
I sometimes wish I could respond to these voicemails. "Hey, Agent Smith, this is Comedian Johnson. I'm calling to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to laugh your troubles away. Press 1 if you're ready to join the comedy revolution.
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You ever answer a call, and there's that awkward pause? You're waiting for the other person to speak, and they're waiting for you. It's like a standoff in the Wild West, but instead of gunslingers, it's just two people staring at their phones. I got a call the other day, and it went like this:
Person on the other end: "Hello?"
Me: "Hi."
Awkward silence ensues.
I thought, "Is this a staring contest? Because if so, I'm winning. I've been practicing with my cat, and he blinks first every time."
And then there are those calls where they ask for someone, and you have to break the news that they've got the wrong number. "I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name." But they're not convinced. "Are you sure? Maybe they changed their number." Lady, I'm pretty sure I know the people who live in my house, and there's no Bob here.
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You ever try to avoid telemarketers like you're a secret agent trying to escape capture? It's like a game of cat and mouse, except you're the mouse, and the cat is trying to sell you a vacuum cleaner. I've developed advanced evasion techniques. When I see an unknown number, I become a ninja of the modern age. I slide the "Ignore Call" button with the precision of a sushi chef. They'll never see it coming.
But telemarketers are evolving. They've started using local numbers to trick you into answering. Now I'm sitting there, playing detective with my own phone calls. "Let's see, area code 555, exchange 123. Is this Aunt Mildred or a scammer? Better let it go to voicemail just in case."
And don't get me started on those recorded messages that try to sound human. "Hey there, it's Jennifer. How've you been?" Nice try, Jennifer-bot. If you were really Jennifer, you'd know I've been avoiding calls like yours.
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You ever get those unsolicited calls, and you're just sitting there like, "Who let the phone ring? I didn't invite you to this party!" I mean, cold calling should be an Olympic sport because these folks have the audacity of a gymnast and the persistence of a marathon runner. I got a call the other day, and the guy on the other end had the nerve to start with, "Hi, is this a good time?" I wanted to say, "Well, I was in the middle of trying to calculate the meaning of life, but sure, your call is way more important."
And then they hit you with the smooth talk, like they're selling you a tropical vacation when they're actually trying to convince you that you need 20 more cable channels. "Imagine a world where you can watch grass grow in high definition!" No thanks, I'm good with my basic package and my thrilling grass-free life.
Seems like they've got scripts for everything. I wish I had a script for dealing with them. "Sorry, I can't talk right now; I'm in the middle of a heated argument with my refrigerator about why it keeps freezing my ice cream.
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