Thus revealed, the creature buried its nose in the tire-tilled soil...
October 12, 2018
Thirty…seven.
Category: Miscellany

So earlier today I got a cell phone call from a telemarketer with a senior living company who wanted to tell me all about their wonderful life insurance options that would fully cover the cost of my coffin and funeral and provide extra security for my loved ones in the event of my untimely demise.

Now, I'm not generally the most assertive person when it comes to telemarketing calls -- I'll firmly say I'm not interested when they ask if I want what they're selling, but barring that I'm content to let them practice their pitches until my input is required -- and today, what with my melancholy mood and particular confusion with the nature of the call (generally it at least makes sense that I'd be on their lists; here I was almost concerned that this caller knew something I didn't), I was especially disinclined to interrupt the nice lady's spiel. So she'd unload with a paragraph of prepared text and ask if I was following, and I'd hesitate and nod as if she could see me and say, "Yes...?" and then she'd launch into the next passage of her speech, and this went on for some minutes.

Finally -- and I don't know why she didn't start with this question -- she asked, "Can I have your age, sir?"

I replied, "Thirty...seven."

A lengthy pause.

"Sir," she said, and then paused again... and then she flatly finished, "you don't qualify for any of our benefits. Thank you."

"Oh," I said. "No problem. Bye." And then I pulled the cell phone away from my ear and pressed the button to end the call.

But just before the call ended, she said, "Yes --"

And it really bothers me that, after all that effort I put into being polite in the midst of my bafflement, I inadvertently rudely cut her off! I'd also really like to know how that parting sentence would have ended. Alas.

-posted by Wes | 8:48 pm | Comments (0)
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