it's over. move to somnia.

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Hell is for Telemarketers

I've always been introverted. Hands-down, no question. Lately, though, the fear of cold-calling people (one I thought I'd conquered) has been resurfacing. Yesterday at work I had to sit still and breathe slowly for a couple of minutes after just thinking about calling up the Humboldt County Sheriff's Office. All I needed was to find out whether the noise complaints they receive tend to cluster around certain locations. (They don't. I had to call three times to get that much.)

Yes, I grinned, swirling my cocktail as I surveyed my interlocutor, I research noise for a living. Couldn't you just lap it up? Hm-ha-ha. Hm-ha.

I also had to carefully write out all I was going to say, from "Hi, my name is..." to "Is there someone in your office I'd be able to speak to about this?", for fear of forgetting what I was saying and exposing whoever would receive this recitation to a prolonged silence as I weathered a blanking-out.

Much of the time I still fumble a bit before picking up the phone to call a friend. Some people demand a reason for being called. I can't imagine what it's like for those people whose job it is to call people all day and propose that the callee give money to the caller. I'd hate hate hate it, passionately. I used to feel bad for them, engage them a bit. Now, I wait long enough to hear what organization they're with, determine whether I legally owe that company a bill, and slam down the phone if not. People say that's better; it doesn't waste the caller's time if you're not interested.

But damned if spending the overwhelming majority of one's workday being rejected and harangued doesn't do something to a guy. And to think I still fear asking people for information that it is their job to provide.

Figure that!
peachy as always, Mike at 3:42 PM