​​​​​​Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.

Fun with telemarketers​ (continued)

Some folks take the opportunity to have a little fun: 

One of our family hobbies is telling whoppers to telemarketers. My son once told a telemarketer that his mother was having a baby and the house was flooded. He said he was talking to her from the roof, and that he needed to get off the phone to call 911.

I tell them a sob story, then ask them to make a donation to ME.

“Wonderful!,” I tell them. “You’ve called just in time for our Family Reading Time. Then I read them “Goodnight Moon.” If they stay till the end, I finish with “Goodnight pesky telemarketer.” Click!

I put my toddler on the phone. She loves to chat and is obsessed with the phone. “Hi! Hi! Hi! What’s your name? Hi! Hi! Hi! Did you see Frozen?”

Say “Congratulations! You’re caller number seven and you’ve won a free trip to the Bahamas. Just give me your full name, address, phone number and credit card information and I’ll make all of the necessary arrangements for my vacation... Sorry, I meant YOUR vacation.”

My mother tells them that they’re wasting their time because they’ve reached an assisted living facility where the average age is 93. Which isn’t true, although she herself is 93. Who knows? Perhaps fibbing to telemarketers is helping to keep her brain nimble. 

An anthropologist friend turns the tables on them by conducting an ethnographic interview. “That’s an interesting accent,” she’ll ask. “Where are you from? And how old are you?” She does whatever she can to draw them out and learn as much as she can about their worldview. Her personal best? She kept one guy on the phone for 45 minutes. 

Whenever someone from the Philadelphia Inquirer phones to try to sell me a subscription, I respond with: “My attorney has advised me not to speak to the press. And she’s also told me I can beat this rap!” That usually breaks them up.

I like to say, in a hushed voice “What’s the best way to bury a body in a crawl space?”