![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Nov. 18th, 2003
20 Ways to Monkey With Telemarketers
Nov. 18th, 2003 07:49 am... which is the name of the article that popped up when my AOL Instant Messenger came up this morning.
Okay, look. I was a telemarketer for seven months. We weren't supposed to, but we worked for a company so inept in regards to keeping tabs on their employees that anybody who fucked with us over the phone just got fucked with right back. Yeah, it's evil, but telemarketing already gets you a guaranteed seat in Hell, so we figured that at the very least, we should all be evil enough not to warrant the seat on Satan's barbeque grill.
Case in point: There were six of us calling on the same project, all women, all in the same row. The woman in the first seat got a guy who asked her what color her underwear were. Not able to resist, she told him she wasn't able to tell customers anymore because of the restraining order, then hung up and set him for a callback for a minute later, which passed him around to the next person in the row.
We proceeded to pass him along, giving him different answers every bloody time. (He caught on really fast and by the time he got to the last person in the row, he answered the phone already laughing.) My contribution -- and remember how I said I can totally do a sexy phone voice? -- was:
Him: So, what color are you wearing?
Me: Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I forgot to put on underwear today. Now, this credit card ...
The best part was he kept trying to get me to elaborate and I kept pretending I'd never said a damn thing.
In any event, here's what I would have said to each and every one of this article's tricks. ( Just so you know ... )
Okay, look. I was a telemarketer for seven months. We weren't supposed to, but we worked for a company so inept in regards to keeping tabs on their employees that anybody who fucked with us over the phone just got fucked with right back. Yeah, it's evil, but telemarketing already gets you a guaranteed seat in Hell, so we figured that at the very least, we should all be evil enough not to warrant the seat on Satan's barbeque grill.
Case in point: There were six of us calling on the same project, all women, all in the same row. The woman in the first seat got a guy who asked her what color her underwear were. Not able to resist, she told him she wasn't able to tell customers anymore because of the restraining order, then hung up and set him for a callback for a minute later, which passed him around to the next person in the row.
We proceeded to pass him along, giving him different answers every bloody time. (He caught on really fast and by the time he got to the last person in the row, he answered the phone already laughing.) My contribution -- and remember how I said I can totally do a sexy phone voice? -- was:
Him: So, what color are you wearing?
Me: Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I forgot to put on underwear today. Now, this credit card ...
The best part was he kept trying to get me to elaborate and I kept pretending I'd never said a damn thing.
In any event, here's what I would have said to each and every one of this article's tricks. ( Just so you know ... )
(no subject)
Nov. 18th, 2003 07:56 pmPeople give me stranger looks and wider berths when I walk round reading a romance novel than when I walk around with my nose buried in a well-worn copy of "The Encylopedia of Serial Killers". I'm not quite sure what to make of that.
