*RING*
ME— Tri-Metro County Library.
EVIL LIBERRY TELEMARKETER— Hello, my name is Michael and I'm calling from LIBERRY MATERIALS PUBLISHING COMPANY. May I speak to the head librarian?
ME— I'm sorry, but she's in a meeting right now. Can I take a message?
ELT— What about the head children's librarian?
ME— (My "Evil-Liberry-Telemarketer Sense" begins to tingle.) I'm sorry, but she's involved with Story Hour at the moment. Can I take a message?
ELT— Are there any other children's librarians available?
ME— (Looks at Mrs. B) Yeah, sortof... (My "Evil-Liberry-Telemarketer Sense" begins to tingle strongly) Um... Actually, if this is a sales call, we don't take sales calls. We welcome anything you'd care to mail to us, but we don't take sales calls. At all.
ELT— (Lies through teeth) No, this isn't a sales call. Maybe you can help me. Is your library participating in the Summer Reading program this year?
ME— (Cautiously) Yeaahhh.
ELT— And what is the theme for this year?
ME— Um... let me let you speak to someone who knows the answer.
(Puts phone on hold and turns to Mrs. B)
ME— What's the Summer Reading theme for this year?
MRS. B— I don't know. We haven't picked it yet.
(Mrs. A wanders out of staff workroom where she had indeed been meeting with Ms. D)
MRS. A— (Indicating phone) Who is it?
ME— Some guy who says he's not a telemarketer asking about Summer Reading.
MRS. A— Gimme. (I give Mrs. A the phone) Hello, this is MRS. A the library director.
(Listens)
MRS. A— No, we've not chosen the theme yet.
(Listens)
MRS. A— No, you're welcome to send us information in the mail, but we do not take sales calls over the phone.
ME— (Loudly whispers in direction of receiver) What did I just tell you?!
MRS. A— No. No, we don't take sales calls over the phone.
(Listens)
MRS. A— No, do not send any product packs. We do not want product packs. Please send information only.
(Listens)
MRS. A— Thank you. Good bye. (Hangs up)
ME— You should have totally let me have him back. I would have loved to say, "What did I JUST tell you, dude?! Not a sales call MY ASS!"
MRS. A— Yeah. He was a slick one.
Showing posts with label telemarketing troubles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label telemarketing troubles. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The Good Monday 2008
Ahh, that was refreshing!
We had a nice, mostly unchaotic Monday, for once. Okay, sure, seven people assaulted the front door in an attempt to get before our 1p opening and most of them demanded computers after we actually opened, but we weren't packed full for the whole day as usual. The book return had only one armload of books in it and Ms. M and I were able to stave off and/or help the usual amount of needy Monday patrons, "assisted" occasionally by Lennie, (whose major conversation theme of the day was how well WVU is doing in sports).
The only real challenge of the day came when Ms. M became entangled in a telephone conversation with someone for the better part of ten minutes. I didn't know who she was speaking to on our main circ-desk phone, but from her answers of "No... yes... no... no... yes..." and occasional recital of vital "liberry" contact information I knew that it had to be some sort of telemarketing situation. From the sound of it, it was for some national directory listing. While it's always nice to have the library properly listed in such directories, I couldn't see why they needed to grill her for 10 minutes on other minor points better left answered by officially licensed librarians, I'm still not sure, but grill her they did and tenaciously so. Not wanting to do the wrong thing or be perceived as rude, Ms. M held still while they applied her to the coals, but her expression changed from nervous to frustrated to bewildered during it. I kept giving her the international sign-language for "hang the hell up" but she wouldn't do it. I even offered to tell the person off for her, but she again refused.
Then the other line began to ring and I whispered to her that this was her grand opportunity to get off by telling them she had another call she had to take. She attempted this, but their little Telemarketer-teeth hung on fiercely as the line continued to ring. After three rings, I gave up on Ms. M and went to answer it in the staff workroom. As soon as I picked it up, though, Lennie bellowed, "It's okay, JUICE got it!" This, as I later learned, was easily overheard by the telemarketer who tightened her grip on Ms. M's phone ear and said, "Oh, so you can keep talking, then."
Fortunately, the call I took was from a patron looking to renew a book and with the circ-desk phone being the only one near a circ-desk computer, I was able to convey to Ms. M that I would be needing that phone and that she had to wrap it up with the telemarketer. I tell you, it took a hot match-head to remove that particular phone parasite, but eventually they let go of Ms. M and scuttled back under their rock.
"Who the hell was that?" I asked.
"The Yellow Pages," Ms. M said.
"Wow," I said. "I got a call from Yellow Book last week and they weren't nearly as bad."
We had a nice, mostly unchaotic Monday, for once. Okay, sure, seven people assaulted the front door in an attempt to get before our 1p opening and most of them demanded computers after we actually opened, but we weren't packed full for the whole day as usual. The book return had only one armload of books in it and Ms. M and I were able to stave off and/or help the usual amount of needy Monday patrons, "assisted" occasionally by Lennie, (whose major conversation theme of the day was how well WVU is doing in sports).
The only real challenge of the day came when Ms. M became entangled in a telephone conversation with someone for the better part of ten minutes. I didn't know who she was speaking to on our main circ-desk phone, but from her answers of "No... yes... no... no... yes..." and occasional recital of vital "liberry" contact information I knew that it had to be some sort of telemarketing situation. From the sound of it, it was for some national directory listing. While it's always nice to have the library properly listed in such directories, I couldn't see why they needed to grill her for 10 minutes on other minor points better left answered by officially licensed librarians, I'm still not sure, but grill her they did and tenaciously so. Not wanting to do the wrong thing or be perceived as rude, Ms. M held still while they applied her to the coals, but her expression changed from nervous to frustrated to bewildered during it. I kept giving her the international sign-language for "hang the hell up" but she wouldn't do it. I even offered to tell the person off for her, but she again refused.
Then the other line began to ring and I whispered to her that this was her grand opportunity to get off by telling them she had another call she had to take. She attempted this, but their little Telemarketer-teeth hung on fiercely as the line continued to ring. After three rings, I gave up on Ms. M and went to answer it in the staff workroom. As soon as I picked it up, though, Lennie bellowed, "It's okay, JUICE got it!" This, as I later learned, was easily overheard by the telemarketer who tightened her grip on Ms. M's phone ear and said, "Oh, so you can keep talking, then."
Fortunately, the call I took was from a patron looking to renew a book and with the circ-desk phone being the only one near a circ-desk computer, I was able to convey to Ms. M that I would be needing that phone and that she had to wrap it up with the telemarketer. I tell you, it took a hot match-head to remove that particular phone parasite, but eventually they let go of Ms. M and scuttled back under their rock.
"Who the hell was that?" I asked.
"The Yellow Pages," Ms. M said.
"Wow," I said. "I got a call from Yellow Book last week and they weren't nearly as bad."
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Actual Non-Fantasy Telephone Conversations Actually Heard at My House #109
(This, by the way, is a direct sequel to Actual Fantasy Telephone Conversations Not Actually Heard in My House #99 except this time it really was heard in my house.)
*RING*
ME— Hello?
(Silence)
ME— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
(*CLICK*)
JOHN— Hello. Mr. Aaron?
ME— Yes?
JOHN— Hi, my name is John and I work for the State Troopers' Association. As you may know, our Winter fund drive…
ME— I'm sorry, but we don't accept telephone solicitation of...
(*CLICK!!!!!*)
ME— (I am momentarily stunned) Woooooow!
THE WIFE— What?
ME— Woooooooooooow!
THE WIFE— What?!
ME— That guy hung the f--k up on me.
THE WIFE— ???
ME— That was the state troopers again. He just hung up on me. Mid-sentence. He didn't even try to do the usual spiel. Just hung up.
THE WIFE— (Not getting it) Yeah?
ME— Well... (Pause) That's even more insulting than if he kept trying to do the spiel.
THE WIFE— (Shakes her head and walks away)
*RING*
ME— Hello?
(Silence)
ME— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
(*CLICK*)
JOHN— Hello. Mr. Aaron?
ME— Yes?
JOHN— Hi, my name is John and I work for the State Troopers' Association. As you may know, our Winter fund drive…
ME— I'm sorry, but we don't accept telephone solicitation of...
(*CLICK!!!!!*)
ME— (I am momentarily stunned) Woooooow!
THE WIFE— What?
ME— Woooooooooooow!
THE WIFE— What?!
ME— That guy hung the f--k up on me.
THE WIFE— ???
ME— That was the state troopers again. He just hung up on me. Mid-sentence. He didn't even try to do the usual spiel. Just hung up.
THE WIFE— (Not getting it) Yeah?
ME— Well... (Pause) That's even more insulting than if he kept trying to do the spiel.
THE WIFE— (Shakes her head and walks away)
Actual Non-Fantasy Telephone Conversations Actually Heard at My House #109
(This, by the way, is a direct sequel to Actual Fantasy Telephone Conversations Not Actually Heard in My House #99 except this time it really was heard in my house.)
*RING*
ME— Hello?
(Silence)
ME— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
(*CLICK*)
JOHN— Hello. Mr. Aaron?
ME— Yes?
JOHN— Hi, my name is John and I work for the State Troopers' Association. As you may know, our Winter fund drive…
ME— I'm sorry, but we don't accept telephone solicitation of...
(*CLICK!!!!!*)
ME— (I am momentarily stunned) Woooooow!
THE WIFE— What?
ME— Woooooooooooow!
THE WIFE— What?!
ME— That guy hung the f--k up on me.
THE WIFE— ???
ME— That was the state troopers again. He just hung up on me. Mid-sentence. He didn't even try to do the usual spiel. Just hung up.
THE WIFE— (Not getting it) Yeah?
ME— Well... (Pause) That's even more insulting than if he kept trying to do the spiel.
THE WIFE— (Shakes her head and walks away)
*RING*
ME— Hello?
(Silence)
ME— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
(*CLICK*)
JOHN— Hello. Mr. Aaron?
ME— Yes?
JOHN— Hi, my name is John and I work for the State Troopers' Association. As you may know, our Winter fund drive…
ME— I'm sorry, but we don't accept telephone solicitation of...
(*CLICK!!!!!*)
ME— (I am momentarily stunned) Woooooow!
THE WIFE— What?
ME— Woooooooooooow!
THE WIFE— What?!
ME— That guy hung the f--k up on me.
THE WIFE— ???
ME— That was the state troopers again. He just hung up on me. Mid-sentence. He didn't even try to do the usual spiel. Just hung up.
THE WIFE— (Not getting it) Yeah?
ME— Well... (Pause) That's even more insulting than if he kept trying to do the spiel.
THE WIFE— (Shakes her head and walks away)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
It's not Delivery, it's... well, okay, it IS Delivery (Tales of the "Good" Patrons Week: Day 4)
Any week devoted to tales of "good" patrons must include my favorite patron family of all time, the Asners.
Yep, no sooner had I issued myself the challenge of chronicling the nice folk who visit us than we were paid a visit by Ma Asner and her middle daughter. They approached the desk and politely, silently, waited for me to finish helping another patron. When at last I was able to turn to them, the daughter smiled and explained that she was selling pizza kits for her school and wondered if I would like to have a look at their catalog.
Now, unlike my personal telemarketer policy, I have a personal school-sales policy of buying from one out of every two kids who come to my door to sell me something. (I think they're catching on, cause they keep coming in pairs.) I spent too much time going door to door myself as a yout' to become the cranky, cheap-ass neighbor every one hates. (Plus, I probably still owe the March of Dimes money.) However, it's one thing to be kind and generous to neighborhood kids, but buying stuff at a workplace as public as mine is very dangerous. You get a reputation for buying fund-raising stuff there and suddenly you're overrun with kids selling $5 Hershey Bars and $8 popcorn balls.
However, because young Miss Asner was the one who asked and because I'm still charmed by all those times she said "God bless you" with her sisters as they departed the building, I readily accepted her catalog and spent $33 on pizza and breadstick 3-pack kits. Miss Asner was overjoyed and promised delivery to me within a few weeks.
Yep, no sooner had I issued myself the challenge of chronicling the nice folk who visit us than we were paid a visit by Ma Asner and her middle daughter. They approached the desk and politely, silently, waited for me to finish helping another patron. When at last I was able to turn to them, the daughter smiled and explained that she was selling pizza kits for her school and wondered if I would like to have a look at their catalog.
Now, unlike my personal telemarketer policy, I have a personal school-sales policy of buying from one out of every two kids who come to my door to sell me something. (I think they're catching on, cause they keep coming in pairs.) I spent too much time going door to door myself as a yout' to become the cranky, cheap-ass neighbor every one hates. (Plus, I probably still owe the March of Dimes money.) However, it's one thing to be kind and generous to neighborhood kids, but buying stuff at a workplace as public as mine is very dangerous. You get a reputation for buying fund-raising stuff there and suddenly you're overrun with kids selling $5 Hershey Bars and $8 popcorn balls.
However, because young Miss Asner was the one who asked and because I'm still charmed by all those times she said "God bless you" with her sisters as they departed the building, I readily accepted her catalog and spent $33 on pizza and breadstick 3-pack kits. Miss Asner was overjoyed and promised delivery to me within a few weeks.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Actual Fantasy Telephone Conversations Not Actually Heard in My House #99
*RING*
ME— Hello?
(Silence)
ME— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
(*CLICK*)
MICHAEL— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
ME— Helloooo?
MICHAEL— Hello. Mr. Aaron?
ME— Yes?
MICHAEL— Hi, my name is Michael and I work for the State Troopers' Association. As you may know, our fall fund drive is approaching and it’s very important that we…
ME— (Rudely interrupting) Here’s where I have to stop you, Michael. See, I’ve already had this conversation with about four of you guys in the past four months and I can already tell you exactly how this is going to go down.
MICHAEL— Sir, I…
ME— No, no. Let me finish, Michael. Cause I’m pretty good at this. See, Michael, had I allowed this call to continue, uninterrupted, what would have happened is as follows: You would have continued speaking, going into a long-winded spiel about how the Troopers' Association needs money and is in the process of gearing up for their annual fund drive and were hoping to find people willing to donate funds to that drive. However, Michael, you would have delivered this appeal in such a rapid-fire burst of speech that I would not have been able to get a word in edgewise without rudely interrupting you. In order not to seem rude, I would then have allowed you blow on for nearly a minute until you came to the end of the massive paragraph printed on the card in front of you. At that point, you would have issued an inquiry such as, “Can we count on you for $50?” or “How much can we count on you for?” You might even use a bold statement such as “I can put you down for $50.” Whichever you used, the goal of your endgame, as we both know, would be to get me to part with as much money as possible, with continued negotiations downward should I not wish to give the full $50. At this point, Michael, you would have at last paused to allow me to speak, an opportunity I would then take in order to make the point I would have preferred to have made far earlier; which is this: beyond the repeated annoying phone calls, I have nothing against the Troopers' Association, nor many of the other organizations who call seeking my money; I do, however, have a hard and fast rule in my household, which is that I accept absolutely no telephone solicitation of any kind. The only exception to this rule is if that solicitation is coming directly from representatives of my telephone company, my long-distance service or a competing long-distance service, and these are only entertained if those companies are actively looking to save me money over my present services. Even then, it’s really really dicey and, to date, not one of them has succeeded.
MICHAEL— Sir, I can assure you that I'm not soli…
ME— At that point in our hypothetical conversation, Michael, you would have rudely interrupted me to assure me that you were not actually soliciting money over the telephone at all, and what you had only intended to do was to offer to send me material in the mail which I might look over and then make a donation of an amount of my choosing, say $50. You would then have further assured me, as your brethren have many times before, that this was in no way telephone solicitation. I would then have been forced to read to you the definition of solicitation out of my handy American Heritage Dictionary; which is, Michael: 1) To seek to obtain by persuasion, entreaty, or formal application; or 2) To petition persistently. Both of these would have fit our particular conversation like chipped beef gravy on a biscuit.
MICHAEL— But, sir, I...
ME— And it is at that point in our conversation, Michael, that you would either have attempted a second dash against the defensive barriers of the definition of solicitation, or—more likely—hung up the phone without another word, or—even more likely—hung up the phone while uttering the word “asshole” slightly over your breath.
(Pause)
ME— So, Michael... Why don't we save ourselves some time, here, and you can just go ahead and pick one of those options now.
MICHAEL— (*CLICK*)
ME— Click indeed, Michael. Click, indeed.
ME— Hello?
(Silence)
ME— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
(*CLICK*)
MICHAEL— Hello?
(*SILENCE*)
ME— Helloooo?
MICHAEL— Hello. Mr. Aaron?
ME— Yes?
MICHAEL— Hi, my name is Michael and I work for the State Troopers' Association. As you may know, our fall fund drive is approaching and it’s very important that we…
ME— (Rudely interrupting) Here’s where I have to stop you, Michael. See, I’ve already had this conversation with about four of you guys in the past four months and I can already tell you exactly how this is going to go down.
MICHAEL— Sir, I…
ME— No, no. Let me finish, Michael. Cause I’m pretty good at this. See, Michael, had I allowed this call to continue, uninterrupted, what would have happened is as follows: You would have continued speaking, going into a long-winded spiel about how the Troopers' Association needs money and is in the process of gearing up for their annual fund drive and were hoping to find people willing to donate funds to that drive. However, Michael, you would have delivered this appeal in such a rapid-fire burst of speech that I would not have been able to get a word in edgewise without rudely interrupting you. In order not to seem rude, I would then have allowed you blow on for nearly a minute until you came to the end of the massive paragraph printed on the card in front of you. At that point, you would have issued an inquiry such as, “Can we count on you for $50?” or “How much can we count on you for?” You might even use a bold statement such as “I can put you down for $50.” Whichever you used, the goal of your endgame, as we both know, would be to get me to part with as much money as possible, with continued negotiations downward should I not wish to give the full $50. At this point, Michael, you would have at last paused to allow me to speak, an opportunity I would then take in order to make the point I would have preferred to have made far earlier; which is this: beyond the repeated annoying phone calls, I have nothing against the Troopers' Association, nor many of the other organizations who call seeking my money; I do, however, have a hard and fast rule in my household, which is that I accept absolutely no telephone solicitation of any kind. The only exception to this rule is if that solicitation is coming directly from representatives of my telephone company, my long-distance service or a competing long-distance service, and these are only entertained if those companies are actively looking to save me money over my present services. Even then, it’s really really dicey and, to date, not one of them has succeeded.
MICHAEL— Sir, I can assure you that I'm not soli…
ME— At that point in our hypothetical conversation, Michael, you would have rudely interrupted me to assure me that you were not actually soliciting money over the telephone at all, and what you had only intended to do was to offer to send me material in the mail which I might look over and then make a donation of an amount of my choosing, say $50. You would then have further assured me, as your brethren have many times before, that this was in no way telephone solicitation. I would then have been forced to read to you the definition of solicitation out of my handy American Heritage Dictionary; which is, Michael: 1) To seek to obtain by persuasion, entreaty, or formal application; or 2) To petition persistently. Both of these would have fit our particular conversation like chipped beef gravy on a biscuit.
MICHAEL— But, sir, I...
ME— And it is at that point in our conversation, Michael, that you would either have attempted a second dash against the defensive barriers of the definition of solicitation, or—more likely—hung up the phone without another word, or—even more likely—hung up the phone while uttering the word “asshole” slightly over your breath.
(Pause)
ME— So, Michael... Why don't we save ourselves some time, here, and you can just go ahead and pick one of those options now.
MICHAEL— (*CLICK*)
ME— Click indeed, Michael. Click, indeed.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Actual Telephone Conversations Heard in Actual Libraries #82
*RING*
ME— Tri-Metro County Library.
TELEMARKETER— (Female voice with thick Indian accent) Hello, my name is (name said too quickly to catch) and I am calling on behalf of (company name said too quickly to catch). May I please speak to the owner of the business?
ME— Um, this is a public library.
TELEMARKETER— Yes. May I please speak to the owner of the business?
(Pause)
ME— Well, that's going to be kind of hard. There are quite a few of them.
TELEMARKETER— I'm sorry?
ME— This is a public library.
TELEMARKETER— Yes. May I please speak to the... May I... Maybe you can help me to understand?
ME— We're a PUBLIC. LIBRARY.
TELEMARKETER— Are you a person who is able to make decisions for the business?
ME— No. I am an employee of a public library. I can't make decisions.
TELEMARKETER— May I speak to someone who is able to make decisions for the business?
ME— No. She's not here at the moment, but she doesn't take sales calls.
TELEMARKETER— But I am not selling you something, yet.
ME— Even so.
TELEMARKETER— I would please like to ask you a few questions about your...
ME— I'm sorry, but I don't think I can answer your questions. I'm the only employee at work right now and I need to go.
TELEMARKETER— When would be a more convenient time to call back?
ME— Again, my boss does not take sales calls or telemarketing calls. We're a public library. We're not really set up for this sort of thing.
(Long pause)
TELEMARKETER— Thank you very much, and have a good evening.
ME— You too.
*CLICK*
PATRON STANDING AT DESK— Dude, you were far more patient with them than I would have been.
(The moral of this story is that apparently not only are America's help desk jobs being outsourced overseas, but now our telemarketing jobs are as well.)
ME— Tri-Metro County Library.
TELEMARKETER— (Female voice with thick Indian accent) Hello, my name is (name said too quickly to catch) and I am calling on behalf of (company name said too quickly to catch). May I please speak to the owner of the business?
ME— Um, this is a public library.
TELEMARKETER— Yes. May I please speak to the owner of the business?
(Pause)
ME— Well, that's going to be kind of hard. There are quite a few of them.
TELEMARKETER— I'm sorry?
ME— This is a public library.
TELEMARKETER— Yes. May I please speak to the... May I... Maybe you can help me to understand?
ME— We're a PUBLIC. LIBRARY.
TELEMARKETER— Are you a person who is able to make decisions for the business?
ME— No. I am an employee of a public library. I can't make decisions.
TELEMARKETER— May I speak to someone who is able to make decisions for the business?
ME— No. She's not here at the moment, but she doesn't take sales calls.
TELEMARKETER— But I am not selling you something, yet.
ME— Even so.
TELEMARKETER— I would please like to ask you a few questions about your...
ME— I'm sorry, but I don't think I can answer your questions. I'm the only employee at work right now and I need to go.
TELEMARKETER— When would be a more convenient time to call back?
ME— Again, my boss does not take sales calls or telemarketing calls. We're a public library. We're not really set up for this sort of thing.
(Long pause)
TELEMARKETER— Thank you very much, and have a good evening.
ME— You too.
*CLICK*
PATRON STANDING AT DESK— Dude, you were far more patient with them than I would have been.
(The moral of this story is that apparently not only are America's help desk jobs being outsourced overseas, but now our telemarketing jobs are as well.)
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