Expressions of Etiquette

Telemarketers. I try so hard to have compassion for them as I grit my teeth and resent their intrusion. “They’re just doing their job,” I remind myself. It takes dedication to achieve that nonstop talking cadence in an attempt to keep prospects from saying, “No thanks.” I listen, hoping the telemarketer will run out of breath. I remain silent, waiting for the question, the offer, the hook. Eventually it comes.

“We’d like to send out _________. Your address is _______. Okay?”
“I’m really not interested. My husband and I…”
“I completely understand, but this offer includes_____. We’ll mail it right out, okay?”
“We don’t accept phone solicitations…”
“Yes, of course. Times are tough. But surely you can find $19.99 to own this _____. Okay?”
“NO. Please take my name off your list.”
Click.

My husband says I’m a kind person for hearing them out because he either gets mad, hangs up, or both. And because I’m trying to be nice—Minnesota nice—it offends me when the telemarketer rudely hangs up like I’m wasting his or her time instead of the other way around.

Once in a great while I get a pleasant telemarketer. The pressure is the same, the tactics similar, but at least there’s a cheery voice on the line.

A few days ago I had a call from a woman soliciting money for a children’s cancer foundation. She was upfront about being a professional marketer, which I appreciated. Transparency is good. (Do you ever wonder how much of the solicited donations go to pay professional marketers? I do.)

What made me chuckle was her opening line. “Is this Mrs. Gates? You’re harder to get ahold of than the last pickle in the jar.” As I was pondering the depth of that comment she launched into her practiced dialog. A dialog, I might add, that was heavily laced with guilt.

When I told her, for the second time, that we do NOT accept phone solicitations she barely paused. Didn’t I hear our donation could save a child’s life? A child’s life! Wasn’t that more important than my self-imposed phone call boundary?

Okay, that stung a bit, but I was strong. My husband and I decide which charities to support based on our values, and not guilt. This smoothy wasn’t going to get to me with her cute lines and psychological ploys. When I refused her plea, she too parted ways with a rather abrupt disconnect. Oh well. At least I heard a one-liner that I might use in other circumstances. Sweet! Like scoring the last pickle in the jar, it was the best part of my day.