I hate phone solicitations.
Haaaaate them.
And let me apologize in advance to any of you who may work in telemarketing... I know it's just your job... but it's the one intrusion into my quiet that I cannot stand.
If ever I accidently miss the PRIVATE our OUT OF SERVICE or WE ARE HERE TO INTERRUPT YOUR DINNER that pops up on the Caller ID... and then I hear the chitter-chatter of the phone bank... I instantly see red... and turn green... and have ALL the other negative color related associations one can think of.
I try not to get angry, but my worser instincts kick in, and so I channel them into something amusing... if only amusing to ME.
I've got one character, who is the love child of Mush Mouth from the Cosby Kids and Boris from Rocky and Bullwinkle. It's a dude who WANTS to get his house refinanced or NEEDS to refinance, but was born with a strange, vowel challenged, Russian accent...
"Hello... Mr. Lieber (pronounced Lie-Ber)"
"Hrlw. Thrs rs Mr. Lrrbrb."
"What? Um, yes. Is-- Is this Mr. Lieber (this time pronounced Lay-bur)"
"R srrd rt wrs Mr. Lrrrb."
"Yes, we're calling from Gertwatz Construction and we we're wondering--"
"R yrss! R vrrer mrch nrd srmm wrrrk drn frtsts mwrrk. Mwrrk vrrstrgrdr! Frdd smrcr ytrrrss frnkr brtrrdrrp mrstrgrstrdrd frrpl frstrgrd?!"
Silence.
"Hrlwwwwwww?!?!"
There's another character who is easier to understand, and very willing to get the call... but has simultaneous... issues... going on in the background.
"Hello... Mr. Lieber (pronounced Lid-bar)"
"Yes? Hello!"
"Yes, we're calling because you requested some information on our services. And we'd like to talk to you about--"
"No, Fifi! No! No! No!"
"Sorry?"
"Oh, I apologize. I'd really like to chat here but our Iranian Ferret Fifi accidently got into a bowl of peaches and is having some incontinence issues on the shag. What do you recommend to get Ferret poop out of a rug?"
"I-- uh--"
"Hang on, one more second."
And then I pretend to go for a combination of "Bad Ferret! Bad!" and a series of sounds that are a combination of Angry Ferret and Strangled Ferret.
There's also a little girl character... who claims her name is Alice... but speaks in my exact voice, with no attempt to make myself sound younger... or female.
"Hello, is Mr. Lieber there?"
"No. He's not. This is is daughter Alice. I'm six."
That usually just ends the call.
Look, shorter... I'm an asshole... and I'm not really proud of it.
But, lately I'm LESS proud of one other activity.
I've been ignoring ONE PARTICULAR set of these calls. These calls always come on my cell phone. These calls always come in the middle of the day. These calls are always marked PRIVATE. And... I know... EXACTLY who they're from.
They're from the Obama people.
It's not that I'm disappointed in the last 4 years (though there are of course specific stands that I FUCKING HATE... I'm looking at YOU "ever evolving views on gay mariage")... and it's not that I expected more (I always saw Obama as a barely center-left pragmatist who was using "progressive" more politically that world-viewy)... it's just that the job of GOVERNING is endlessly confusing, frustrating and hopelessly annoying.
Every single accomplishment (after the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act) has been a compromise or a sliver of what it should have been, mostly because the other side of the aisle is filled not with honest political combatants with differing world views... but with selfish, power hungry children.
No, wait... children have the potential to be kind.
But in the mail yesterday came my free Obama/Biden bumper sticker, which will get trotted out to the Mini Coops and placed in the window.
And with the Republican primary effectively ending last night... and the coronation of the Mittster as the next angry rich Republican who is pitching us America circa 1953... it's probably time for me to bag the Flatulent Ferret routine and pick up the telly.
So, go ahead Obama people... call.
Or better yet, I guess I'll call you.