Lately I have tried to be nicer to telemarketers that annoy the crap out of me at work because, let’s face it. Today’s telemarketer was probably yesterday’s Mortgage Broker, and frankly, I don’t feel like tempting the gods.
I try. I swear. I try.
(Insert ringing phone).
T (Thinks): SHIT! Is someone going to answer that, because my fingernails are wet and it would be inconvenient to pick up the phone. (Have I mentioned that the mortgage biz is a little slow right now? I thought so. PS. - Fuck you Shaun Donovan).
T Says: “Thank you for calling Fussy & Bitchy Inc. How may I help you?”
Annoying Telemarketer: “Is Mr. Fancy Pants in?”
T (Thinks): God grant me the serenity…
T Says: "I’m sorry Ma’am there is no one here by that name. How may I help you?" (See? Trying).
Annoying Telemarketer: "Is this Fussy & Bitchy Inc.? I need to speak with Mr. Pants, or the owner, or the manager, or the person (with a penis) that makes decisions, or anyone except you. Connect me NOW! Please!"
T (Thinks): Oh. No. She. Di’int! (I’m hip that way).
T Says: “No.”
Annoying Telemarketer: “No? Did you say no? Either connect me now, or I will call back and tell Mr. Pants that his Secretary is rude and refuses to…”
T (Thinks): Forgive me Jesus.
T Says: “Hold it right there Nineteen Seventy Two! First, he doesn’t have a Secretary; he has an Assistant, and please do me a favor, tell him that she is a bitch. Because she is, and he doesn’t listen when I tell him, because I hate everyone. While you are at it, tell him that his “Secretary” called you an assbag before she hung up on you.”
T (Thinks): Hey, I’m getting pretty good at this nice thing.
image:http://www.wwenglish.com/up06/2008/04/24846/1a.jpg
Marry me.
Oh HOBAC, you charmer!
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