I sell mortgages. I hear a beep and snap my head up from my doodling to look at the computer screen.
"Hi, is Leo home?"
My computer screen says that Leo Hauss lives somewhere in Massachusetts. Some town called Elkwood.
"Speaking."
Leo has that typical Massachusetts accent, and believe me, I know Massachusetts. I've spoken to hundreds of people from there. They sound strangely like Elmer Fudd. I had to suppress a laugh when I first heard Leo.
"My name is Ben, and I'm calling on behalf of Allied Mortgage. I'd like to inform you that you've pre-qualified for our payment reduction plan. Customers who've taken advantage of our plan have found their payments and interest rates on credit cards and mortgages cut significantly, sometimes even in half. May I confirm that your address is 543 Burrow Street?"
Always end on a question. This forces the customer to respond and keeps the telemarketer in control.
"Yes, that's correct."
Somehow Leo finds a way to add a w to every word that comes out of his mouth. Instead of (ker-rekt) or (ko-rekt) it becomes (kwow-wekt). Had to suppress another laugh. Can't lose the sale, not from giggling anyway.
"And how much would you estimate your home to be worth?"
My employee's handbook says that I'm sitting at an oak desk in a winged leather chair. On my desk is a list of ten people that I should call today, written in calligraphy. Now, don't I feel better about myself, my employee's handbook asks. Back in the real world, I'm sitting hunched over a computer whose screen displays only orange and black. Leo is call #116, and my ears are starting to hurt from being squashed against my skull by the headset. Some handbook. Some employee.
"Oh, I don't know, about $300,000. Look, I gotta be going."
The shit is quickly approaching the fan.
"Mr. Hauss, I'm sure that you would agree that three minutes of your time isn't too much if it could save you money every month."
That one never works. What was I thinking? Please be a moron Leo, please, please, please.
"Please put me on your do not call list."
The shit has made contact with the fan. Not only that, but the fan killed the shit and caused an international incident. Now we have a full scale war on our hands.
"I'll do that right now Mr. Hauss. Thank you for your time."
There's a $5,000 penelty for calling a person who asked to be removed from the list. I don't have $5,000. On to call #117. Goodbye Leo. Have a nice life without me.
1.Andy. My boss. The slave driver.
2.The stoners who think I smoke pot.
3. The people on the phones that tell me that they are trying to be polite.
4. The people on the phones that think I'm out to get them. They may be right.
5. Mandatory work days when they don't feed me.