Confessions of a Suburban HouseHusband-Pt. Three: Telemarketers Most Foul.
Normally, I don’t really mind telemarketers. I usually listen to their spiel then tell them I don’t really need one/already have one/already support/etc. A few times, when asked to take part in a survey, I have asked them to call me back in twenty minutes when I had time… and when they call back, I answer and take the survey. I am most polite that way.Well, lately, I have begun to get upset with the discrimination that I have been facing from said telemarketers. Everyday, I answer at least two phone calls from telemarketers for the boyfriend.
Me: “Good morning.”
Them: “Good morning sir. Is Mr. Jones home?” (I have changed The Boyfriends last name to something more generic to protect out anonymity.)
Me: “I’m sorry. He’s at work.”
Them: “Is there a Mrs. Jones?”
Me: “Well, there's no Mrs. Jones, but I am his partner.”
Them: “Nevermind. We’ll call back.”
WHAT THE F*CK?!!??! If they are okay to talk to his wife, why not me? I’m the one that washes and irons his underpants.
Once, about a week ago, the call came from a really queeny gay sounding man, and even he did the same thing. I wanted to say, “Look here Mister Sister! I’m your brethren… what gives?”… but then I didn’t. I was already running late for work, and didn’t have time for his shtick anyway.
Maybe, just maybe, if I start wearing a wig I can get the respect a Suburban HouseHusband deserves!
posted by Lance Morrison @ 12:03 PM
10 Comments:
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Gee, you'd think that with that whole gay marriage thing going on in Canada, they'd update the language.
I don't bother with telemarketers personally, and when they call looking for Mr. Chudyk, and I tell them he's not here, I get "Are you Mrs. Chudyk?" I'm sorry people...I will **NEVER** ever be Mrs. Chudyk. I am now and will always be Ms. Poitras, regardless of marital status. So no, Mrs. Chudyk is not here, Rod's mum lives in Alberta.
Darling, you are the queen of my heart, as always. Can't wait to have you run your fingers through my hair again. Though I'll admit I'm not a fan of the cold water.
You iron his underpants? Wow. Hardcore.
Oh and Anya, if you're reading this, I've been trying to access your blog for months now and blogger isn't letting me. Any suggestions?
Anya,
Actually, it's probably the same people that call back every few days.
I heard a story a few months ago where someone answered the phone and a telemarketer asked for someone and they just said, "I'm sorry. He's Dead. Can you take him off your list please?"... and it worked.
Although, I imagine if you just asked they have to do it anyway.
Fancy,
Uh... now seating bitter, table for one.
Fat Girl,
I don't REALLY iron his underpants... that was thrown in for artistic flair. But, I bet after reading this, he will start requesting it.
Yeah, I bet too. Until you leave a hot iron on his favourite pair, right over the crotch part.... :D
You really are too nice Lance! telemarketers bother me too and my favourite trick is after they've finished their schpiel is to nicely say "oh hold on just one sec, I've just got to turn down the stove" and then wedge the phone in between the cushions on my couch and leave them there for 20 mins or so. Works a treat! ;}
I always ask to be taken off their list and did you know that it's the LAW and they HAVE to take you off their list if you ASK them too?!?! TRUE!!!
Next time, I'd just say to them "I am his wife" and then see what their reaction would be like. See if they'll continue on, or if they'll hang up on you, or something. I wonder what they'd say.
Canada has to accept it now...it's the law as well! Throw it in their face Lance...
Good Luck!
Oh fat girl...email me your email and I can put you on my allow list. Mio email es: anya.selleck@gmail.com
ciao
xo
Lance,
I am so doing the death thing from now on...
he does not iron my underpants...he thinks I am a freak for ironing bed sheets....
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