I have no love for cold callers.
You know them by their anonymity, when the Caller ID offers an unhelpful “Unknown Number” or “Unknown Caller.” Their timing is usually quite charming, like when you’re about to sit down for dinner, or when they call on Saturday morning, before even the coffee has time to finish brewing.
For a few months in 2007, we had daily cold callers. These were a cowardly lot, as they never said a word when we would actually pick up the phone. They would ring, one of us would greet, then we’d get a click. It is one thing to make a cold call, whether you’re selling something or not, but quite another to lose your nerve when making such a call.
But during this span of constant ringing — ringing that continued in spite of our being listed on the National Do-Not-Call List — I developed a way of answering the phone obnoxiously. After all, if this is a cold caller, they don’t know me. I could be anyone. So why shouldn’t I answer the phone like a ragingly intoxicated cross between Inigo Montoya and Super Mario? “HAAALL-OOOO!!!” Usually, the cold caller would hang up. Immediately. However, some kept a brave face and asked to speak to a “Mr. Thomas.”
Okay, that’s their biggest mistake. There is no Mr. Thomas in our house. So I can answer, quite truly, “Mister Thomas!?!? He is … nooo heeerrre!!!!”
On those rare occasions when the cold caller stuck around and proceeded with their script — and they’ve all got scripts — I would answer their questions as creatively as I wished.
“I’d like to talk to you today about a great offer from Dish Network …”
“Dish?! We’ve got dishes a-plenty, my friend! Got a kitchen, too!!”
“No, sir … this is Dish Network.”
“Oh, no … no, I don’t think we’d be needing a whole network of dishes now, we don’t eat all that much …”
And so on.
The daily cold calling dried up months ago. Since then, the cold callers have been few and far between. And yet, I will still answer as a drunk Inigo Mario — I mean, why not? This has been especially true over the last couple of weeks, because Representative Tom Price has been auto-dialing his consistuency to ask whether we all agree that illegal immigrants are either the bigger threat to American Freedom or the biggest ever threat to American Freedom.
On Friday night, however, I learned a new lesson.
The phone rings. “Unknown Number.” So I pick up the receiver in the kitchen and let loose a mighty “HAAALL-OOOO!”
“May I speak to Mr. Thomas, please?” As expected. I take the investigative route. “Who may I ask, is caallliinnggg?!?!”
“I’m calling on behalf of Obama for America.”
My jaw dropped. I think I stripped some behavioral gears while switching from Inigo Mario to polite, concerned and apologetic voter. I think I actually started doing that “walking on eggshells” dance we all do when we know we’ve made an ass out of ourselves in front of someone who doesn’t deserve a bit of it.
“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I had no idea. I … I thought you were a Republican.”
The caller was incredibly professional. She carried on as if nothing untoward had happen’d. When all was done, she was winging a donation envelope to me (with the last name corrected, I might add) and I wished her a good night …
(After apologizing one more time for good measure.)
