I receive a lot telemarketing calls, most of which I don't answer. But I've noticed the tactics are getting sneakier. For example, instead of the caller ID saying "unknown caller" or "wireless caller," purposely being vague to trap me into answering, it now says, "call from Keene, NH," or "call from Salem, NH," which I fell for...at first. Then I started looking at the actual phone numbers and the area codes weren't anywhere near New Hampshire.
It seems as if lately there has been an increase in survey calls...about, what else? The upcoming election. No surprise there.
But the calls have made me think back to a few years ago when one particular survey-call turned into an interesting conversation (that probably ended up getting the caller fired afterwards).
It all began about 10 days before, when I received what looked like a piece of junk mail. I was going to toss it, but for some reason, I decided to open the envelope. Inside was a note and a crisp one-dollar bill. It was from a radio survey service and the note said someone would be calling me to take the survey.
The first thing I wondered was whether of not the dollar bill was real. Then I wondered how many people had tossed out their envelopes and the dollar bills along with them. I had visions of hundreds of envelopes with dollars in them, all lying unopened in the town landfill.
As promised, the survey service called me. When I saw it on the caller ID, I ignored it. But the calls continued – twice a day, every day, even on weekends. I figured they really were determined to get their dollar’s worth out of me.
Finally, I got so sick of the phone calls, I caved in and answered. Let’s just say that when I did, my voice sounded about as friendly as a bear’s just after hibernation.
The woman on the phone introduced herself as Mandy. She sounded pleasant and seemed unfazed by my growl. She asked me which radio station I listened to the most often, and where I usually was when I did. At home? At work? In the car? Jogging? I grunted an answer to each question. Then she said she wanted to send me a survey in the mail, and for filling it out, I would be paid enough to buy a cup of coffee.
I wondered if she meant a 7-11 coffee or a Starbuck’s coffee.
Then she asked, “Are you affiliated with the media or radio in any way?”
“Yes. I write for several newspapers and I interpret people’s dreams, often on the radio.”
“Ohhh,” she groaned. “That disqualifies you from taking the survey.”
I wasn’t exactly heartbroken. I was just about to ask her if she wanted her dollar back when she said, “So, you interpret dreams?”
“Yep. For the past 30-plus years.”
“Well, let me tell you about one I had the other night! It was about my ex-husband. I want to poison him.”
“In your dream, or in real life?” I asked.
“In real life!” she said, laughing.
She then described her dream and I interpreted it. After that, she told me about a new man she’d recently met who was so wonderful, he seemed too good to be true
“Be careful then,” I said. “He just might be.”
She began to explain how she’d had to kiss a lot of toads before she finally found her prince. I told her I wouldn’t know how to date nowadays – nor would I be brave enough even to attempt it.
She said, “Well, safety is the most important thing in this day and age. Let me give you some pointers…from experience!”
She told me that first of all, never tell a man you live alone.
“Invent a roommate,” she said. “And make sure the roommate is a male – your brother or a cousin who just got out of the military...maybe a Navy SEAL. Buy some men’s shoes and clothes at Goodwill – in big sizes – and leave them strategically placed around the house.”
“Then,” she said, “Make sure to get a couple surveillance cameras, so you can see who’s approaching your place. Put them inside your house, too, in case someone tries to break in.”
“And,” she added, “If you try online dating, make sure the first time you meet the guy, it’s in a public place in the daytime. Take your own car, but park it a few blocks away, and then take a cab the rest of the way. When the date is over, have a cab take you back to your car. Otherwise, the guy will want to walk you to your car, and you don’t want him, especially if he’s a creep, to get your license-plate number. He can trace it online and find out where you live.”
She made preparing for a date sound like basic training for armed combat.
“I don’t even have a cab company anywhere near my town,” I said. “If I called a cab, it would take a half-hour to get here.”
She asked where I lived. I said New Hampshire.
“I’ve never been there,” she said. “I’m in Baltimore. You need a roommate?”
I had no idea if she was serious or joking.
She then said, “People tell me I have great intuition, and my intuition is telling me good things are going to happen to you very soon. I can feel it!”
“I hope so,” I said. “And I hope your relationship with your new guy works out.”
“Well, I’ve been divorced twice,” she said, “So I’m hoping the third time's the charm!”
“Sounds as if your 'great intuition' hasn’t applied to most of the men in your life,” I couldn't resist saying.
“No, but it’s been right about everything else!”
Let's just say she wasn't right about good things happening to me - not even close.
Actually, now that I think about it, I guess something good did happen…I stopped getting phone calls about the radio survey.
# # #
Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net
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