Chepooka

Receptionist Wanted

There are days when I wish I had a staff, at least a part-time staff. My dream team includes an energetic personal assistant to run my errands and empty my in-box for me, an anal-retentive and slightly gruff bookkeeper to enter my time cards and send out bills and pester people who don’t pay on time, a meticulous housekeeper who only speaks to me in French (you know, so I can practice) who actually moves the furniture instead of sweeping around it, a project manager to keep me in line and keep things in profit, and most especially ... a receptionist with an uncanny knack for handling telemarketers.

Unfortunately I have an aversion to managing staff, so it’s just little old me and probably always will be—HR is really not my thing. I’ve done it, I can do it, but it’s not what I want to spend my time doing. Mostly because I despise drama, and where there’s people, there tends to be that.

On Fridays, Brian is off from work and generally it’s his day to fart around and watch ESPN because I’m working, and have little time to nag him about getting off his ass during commercials at least to take out the trash. Every so often on these Friday afternoons, I find myself downstairs and far from the phone, refilling my coffee or grabbing something to eat, when the phone rings.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I discuss the phone policy with him, he answers calls from telemarketers and then hands the phone to me.

This time it was a call from yet another “internet business directory” that wanted to verify my information. Who are these people and where are their directories and what benefit am I receiving and while I’m at it, if they’re so “internet”, why do they need to call me, ask for my mailing address but never my web address, and refuse to send me information via email? Am I alone in this? It happens to me a lot, and while I normally feel slightly intrigued, like I’ll be getting some free advertising or something so why not, but now I’m starting to get really suspicious!

Yesterday, it went something like this:

Her: “Is your business name Tagangaknee Stone?”
Me: “No, my business is called Endeavor Creative.”
Us: “… (several passes at spelling that until she gets it right, tough break that your job requires spelling skills) ...”
Her: “And is your address still ______?”
Me: “No.”
Her: “Can I get your address?”
Me: “Who are you again?”
Her: “Somethingsomething.com, you can check us out online.”
Me: “Ok, I will do that.”
Her: “Can I get your address?”
Me: “No.”
Her: “This is just so we can send you confirmation about your listing.”
Me: “I don’t want that, you can email me though.”
Her: “We will never sell your address to a mailing list, it’s just for our purposes. Can I get your address?”
Me: “No. I don’t know you and I’m not in the habit of giving out my address when I don’t know what it’s for. I hate mail, I don’t want any mail from you, and I have no assurances that this won’t go on a junk mail list because I DON’T KNOW YOU. Surely you can understand.”
Her: “*Giggles* Yes, I do, but it is my job to get your address, that is why I am being so persistent.”
Me: “You can keep asking me, I will keep saying no, I have all day.”
Her: “*Giggles* So you will not give me your address? Then unfortunately this conversation is over, goodbye.”

Yes, how unfortunate.

Anybody else have this issue? What do you do when these people call?

Posted by chepooka on 03/29 at 09:01 AM

Comments

Your killer closing line would have been: “Sweetheart, this conversation was over before you even dialed my number. So sad that you’re only just now figuring that out.”

Dialogue polishing — just one of the many extra services I could provide, if only I spoke French and winter in Alaska didn’t blow even more than winter in Kansas.

Posted by Shepcat on 03/29 at 05:37 PM