Gall Center

Caution: If the "F" word offends your sensibilities, do not read this. Otherwise, enjoy.

I realize that I sounded a bit crass in one of my previous posts, so I would like to apologize to people who work in call centers. At least I'd like to apologize to those who through no fault of their own found themselves with no other option but to take that job, and who when doing that job aren't a big pain in the ass. Now let me explain why I treat them so badly. They call me at least half a dozen times a day. They call at all hours, and when I ask them what they are selling, they always say that they aren't selling anything. They lie. At some point, if I were to go along with them, I would be asked to sign up for something, buy something, or attend some free thing where they would want my money. And when I say that I am not interested they continue to talk and try to convince me to listen to them. That is why more often than not, I end up cursing at them. 
Yesterday at eight thirty in the morning one of them called me. I was irate and I asked them "What the fuck are you selling?" The answer was "nothing". So I told the interloper to get the fuck off of my phone and don't call back. They called back and tried to reason with me. Again I used the magic word, fuck. In fact I used it a couple of times before I hung up. They called back. This time it was a different guy who said he was the supervisor. I told him to fuck off, and hung up. He called back. "Sir, we are just trying to remind you of our four o'clock appointment with you on Saturday."

"Who the fuck are you trying to kid here?" I asked, "You don't have any fucking appointment with me".

From the other end of the phone I heard the man gasp, "Sir, you don't have to use that language."

He was wrong. I did. I did have to use that language because apparently they don't understand any other language. Not English, not anything.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, and once more, fuck you. Now get the fuck off of my phone."

I hung up. Moments later the phone rang again. What the asshole didn't know is that I was enjoying myself. It was cathartic. When I was done with the last call, when I had again screamed at the guy that I was on the do not call list and he finally quit calling back, I felt great. I had bled out every ounce of aggression in my body. No matter what else happened yesterday, I did not lose my temper. It is also possible that today I will not lose my temper. I left it all on that guy. Who, by the way, is apparently named Louise Moreau, who is sixty five years old, and lives in a gated community near Orlando. It's an old trick these call centers use. They register a land line phone to an unsuspecting senior citizen so that nobody can trace their sorry asses. I wouldn't be surprised if the next time they do that to me.