The calls usually come at the dinner hour, as my family and I are knifing into our chicken.
“Bob, your representative, just called me,” I inform the supervisor. “Like many consumers I don’t like to receive telemarketing calls. Our only recourse is to complain about them.”
If a hapless telemarketer phones Bulmash, he masquerades as “the perfect telesucker,” saying something like: “Oh, hey, the Policemen’s Association. Fantastic! As a matter of fact, my aunt just had a problem with a prowler in the neighborhood. You policemen were out in a jiffy–boy, you were great. And I was just talking to my wife about how you guys deserve credit. It’s so fortunate that you called just now, because it would be nice if we could reward you for such good service.
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“Still, I try not to bite anyone’s head off. I always envision the poor person on the other end of the line as sitting in a cubicle, having to make calls eight hours a day and earning $1.25 an hour plus commission. Think about doing that!”
Rhona Hoffman, art dealer: “I’m usually keyed in to these calls because they start out by asking for Rhonda, or Mrs. Aaaaaah as they look down their list to find my name. When they get my name right I say, ‘Mrs. Hoffman is not in.’ Or ‘Mrs. Hoffman is out for the evening.’”
Roche Schulfer, producing director, the Goodman Theatre: “If they’re calling to sell me a newspaper or a magazine that I don’t want, I won’t waste their time. If it’s an arts organization, I will generally listen because I’m either curious to hear how effective their telemarketing pitch is and/or I’m actually interested in contributing.”
