Saturday, 8 October 2011

Cold Callers

Transcript of a telephone conversation I just had:


Me: Hello...? (pregnant pause) Hello... HELLO?

Phone (broad foreign accent): Ah, good evening sir (FYI, it's now 10.00 in the morning), how are you today?

Me: Bloody marvellous. What do you want?

Phone: Excellent, excellent. My name is Ahmed and I am phoning on behalf of [some fucking market research company] to conduct a survey to assess consumer habits in your...

Me: (interrupting) I'm not really interested, thanks.

Phone: Oh, but sir, this will only take a few minutes of...

Me: (interrupting) Didn't you hear me? I said I'm not interested.

Phone: It will only take a few minutes...

Me: No, I'm really sorry, but I couldn't give a BLOODY FUCK about your GOD DAMNED CUNTING SURVEY. You've phoned me up OUT OF THE CUNTING BLUE on a fucking SATURDAY MORNING, I can barely understand a word you're saying and the fucking phone connection to BLOODY BANGLADESH or wherever the FUCK YOU ARE is so utterly PISS-POOR THAT MY OWN VOICE IS ECHOING BACK AT ME. I AM ACTUALLY BOLLOCKING MYSELF AT THIS POINT.

I fucking HATE cold calling, you got that? I fucking HATE the way that you phone up, just expecting that I can just DROP EVERYTHING to dedicate my time to GIVING YOU DUMB-FUCK ANSWERS to COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT QUESTIONS, or spending my HARD-EARNED CASH on SHIT I DON'T NEED, or even worse, assuming that I'm so fucking stupid that I will happily send my BANK DETAILS to some FUCKING ROBBING TERRORIST IN NIGERIA.

So I'm not going to answer your questions, and then MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, when people like you have had enough ABUSE, you'll realise that FUCKING PEOPLE OFF BY PESTERING THEM SENSELESS is not a VALID MARKETING STRATEGY.

Phone: But this survey will only take a few minutes...

Me: (interrupting) FUCK OFF.


Fuck the fuck off out of my fucking face.
 Ah, I feel better now. Coffee.