It’s difficult to know what to do with telemarketers. I know some people have their own approach to the nuisance phone calls from them, but few of the responses seem completely ideal. I’m aware that one common approach is to immediately hang up, while another is to issue a stream of profanity and replace the receiver with some force, but I’m not sure how much of a deterrent this might be. I doubt that it stops anything, and the latter technique (although telemarketers voluntarily invade your space) might get you reported to the phone company.

There’s a side of me that is aware of many of these people being stuck in cubicles all day, trying to build a record of sales or donations, struggling to get by in this world. Accents will tell you that a lot of them might be immigrants who need the work, though this might be a misconception from the belief that you are receiving the call to donate to the Canadian Disabled Bearded Motorcycle Repairmen Fund from someone in Toronto, when in fact it’s really Mujubar calling from Calcutta.

We screen the calls as much as possible with Call Display. Often you answer a call and find that no one is there, just a click and eventually a dial tone. That was the computer, trolling for “live ones” out there. When Mr. Computer finds that someone exists at that number, it carefully tags you as being at home at such-and-such a time, and sends that on to telemarketers to improve their odds. Most of our telemarketing calls seem to come between 4 p.m. and about 6 p.m., either a selected time when they anticipate most people in our time zone will be home, or Mr. Computer has caught us enough times to create a profile.

Most of the calls come in with 800, 866, or 888 codes attached, but companies are wise to your picking up on this and not answering (ours even appears on the TV screen through our satellite receiver). Lately we have been getting calls from 000-000-0000, obviously with nothing to offer, and occasionally from good old 123-456-7890, who feels we aren’t very adept at noticing sequences. Most troublesome are calls that display “long distance” or other labels that force us to answer in case it is someone we know.

There are what you hope are funny things to say to these callers, but be assured that they have heard them all and are not likely to be amused, nor will they think that you are particularly witty and have really put one over on them. They’ve all heard the “Give me your home phone number and I’ll call you back” a thousand times, and likewise for every other imagined-to-be-clever retort. The only particularly clever thing I’ve heard lately is an audio joke recently circulated on email where the phone answerer pretended to be a police officer and the intended call recipient had been murdered. The officer wanted to know the name and location of the caller for possible involvement in the case. He promised a local officer would be coming to take a statement. However, expect that your ability to pull this off is probably limited, and they have likely heard it attempted a thousand times now.

There is supposed to be a “Do Not Call” list coming into force where you can request that your name be added and routine telemarketers will not be able to call you. However, marketers for non-profit organizations and charities are exempt from avoiding this list, and they tend to be the main group of callers that we get. These organizations like to lay a guilt trip on you, in hopes that feelings will whelm up in you for Terminally Ill Bald Midget Hockey Players and free up some of your funds.

My approach depends on my mood and schedule, as it perhaps does for many of us. I can and will be rudely abrupt, but feel it’s good to remember who is invading whose time without invitation. If I’m in the middle on nailing a shingle on the roof, I’m not going to take a call on the wireless hooked to my belt, and if they caught me not checking the display, I’ll just say, “Sorry” and hang up. If I have a little more time, I’ll listen to the opening spiel. If it’s just a reading from a script, plunging on without any particular regard to me, I’ll throw in the “Sorry” and end it there. I’m particularly open to someone who politely asks me first if they can take a few minutes of my time. I’ll give a listen, and decline when I get a convenient opportunity. Occasionally I do bite if the appeal or product interests me. Sometimes it’s the phone company and they offer me a better deal– I’m game.

My line of non-cooperation comes when they change gears as a response to my lack of interest. If they argue the point, take a new tack, or give me a “well, then how about just…..”— it’s an immediate hang-up.

Telemarketers… one of the struggles of life. Boy, we have it easy.

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Last Friday evening into early yesterday morning, or later on the next few weekends, people will be taking part in the Canadian Cancer Society’s “Relay for Life”. It’s an inspiring, tiring, and often poignant night.

I was in a couple of Relays in recent years. In the first we met at a sports site with a track in back of Yarmouth, pitched a tent in a grassy field with dozens and dozens of others, and were fascinated immediately by the experienced teams who arrived more ready for the event than our team of novice teachers: wild costumes, signs, banners, and enough camping equipment to make the night really special even for those not on the track. We made vows to get more “geared up” the next year.

If you’re not familiar with the relays, the procedure is that you have to form a team of at least ten, and be prepared to have at least one member of the team (usually a few) walking on the track at all times for the next 12 hours– generally from 8 p.m. until morning. Each team member has to raise at least $100 in pledges. We fudged things a bit, since some of us knew that staying awake all night would play havoc with our sleep cycles, and since about half of our team lived in the Yarmouth area and half back here in Barrington. We set up a system where the Barrington bunch started off the night, and about 2 a.m. the Yarmouth half, having grabbed at least a nap or two, arrived as relief and allowed us to get home and to bed by about 3 a.m.

We had to arrive early. Although the Relay portion started about 8 p.m., there were “opening ceremonies” and special events before we started. These were not boring “I’d just as soon not be there” formalities; in fact, the late shift people were somewhat disappointed not to be on hand for them. Some of the speakers were recovered cancer patients, a few seemingly snatched back from the brink of death, and some some spoke in honor of people who were stalwarts in the Relays of the past, but during the last year the fight they thought they might win had turned against them.
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A certain number of my readers are old enough to remember things like pulling into the service station for two dollars worth of gas, knowing that was plenty for an evening roaming the town– in fact that would probably make your tank half-full.

I suppose they would yell for anyone in the station office to come out for a laugh if I held out a “toonie” (or is it “two-nie”?) and asked for gas today. The attendant would have to be pretty good with the pump to get it stopped at about a liter and a half (not as much liquid as the milk jugs we buy— but notice that gas is cheaper than the milk).

We’ve been using up oil, and many other natural resources, for some time now. Back in the 1800’s when men invented mechanical things to ease our work load, and the “Industrial Revolution” started, things were initially fired on coal, and steam was used as the means of moving things, both outside with trains and ships, and inside the factories. Gradually we became more sophisticated, and along came cars and trucks, then aircraft, and we wired ourselves together in electrical grids and started enjoying the Good Life. But we were gradually relying on oil as the fuel; coal took on a smaller role because it was cumbersome, dirty, and difficult to get out of the ground.

Oil was great… black gold, Texas tea. We all moved to Beverley Hills and put in Cee-ment ponds and enjoyed ourselves.

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I know that the Baby Boomers like myself have been controlling most of western society for the last decades, and I know that we have also been controlling much of the radio airwaves for a while as well, resulting in the abundance of “easy listening”, “gold rock”, and similar approaches to programming as an attempt to please us, but to be honest, judging from the irritating stuff from our local stations in this area, I thought the effect was fading.

No so, it seems. Either we still hold tremendous sway or are dragging a lot of younger people with us for the musical ride.

Witness the excitement over Paul McCartney possibly playing an outdoor concert at the Halifax Commons this summer. Witness the excitement over the Eagles playing outdoors at Moncton this summer. Witness the attendance figures of the Rolling Stones concerts in Moncton and Halifax in the last couple of years.

Are there no music stars able to draw these kinds of crowds from the younger artists? Or are the younger artists just not interested in grassy fields in Maritime cities?

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