I try to keep in mind that the telemarketers who call me on the phone are probably decent, hard-working people who are just trying to make a living. It is rather unfortunate that the job they have irritates the snot out of people and leaves them open to all sorts of rudeness and bad manners.
Carl Hiaasen wrote a great "consumer-gets-revenge-on-the telemarketer" novel, Nature Girl, where the woman of the house lures the offending telemarketer to Florida and bad things happen...
Of course I wouldn't attempt to get revenge like the outraged woman in Hiaasen's novel, but I find I have suddenly started responding out of character to these phone calls.
While we were at my Dad's house, a telemarketer called and wanted to know if I was the homeowner. Instead of the usual, "Thank you, but I am not interested..." I responded:
"No. I am not the homeowner and we are not taking any calls now."
Everybody in the room who heard this began laughing hysterically -- although I suppose it does not actually seem that funny now, it was good for a bit of merriment when it happened.
Today I got one from a woman with an accent so thick that I could not understand what she was saying. I had to get her to repeat the lead-in and her voice was so annoying that I finally just said said, "I am sorry but I do not want to talk to you" and I hung up.
It helps to find things to laugh about a bit after having a hard day yesterday.
My boy is never far from my thoughts, yet I was a bit surprised at myself when I walked into Y yesterday morning, saw a couple of the women in my aerobics class sitting there waiting, sat down and burst into tears. I think the clerk behind the counter was a bit surprised too. After some hand holding and hugs, things were better and I had a good rest of the day...
Until about 4 p.m. Ann had invited me to attend a graveside service to bury the ashes of her son and his wife. The wife, who had had suffered with severe depression, killed herself in September. And then Ann's son, who had became increasingly despondent over his wife's death, shot himself in January, a week after our son died. Our son and this young man had been school friends for several years, and we were at their house often.
Sometimes shared experiences forges a bond. I just wish the bond I have with Ann wasn't so horrible.