Friday 25 January 2013

I'm here

And you're there.

Which pretty well exhausts that topic of conversation.

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The Old Bat managed to keep the French connection going with last night's meal: coq au vin.  I wonder if she'll manage it again tonight.

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Have I ranted recently?  Perhaps not, so I'll indulge myself.  (And why shouldn't I?  After all. I am a cantankerous old x\#*!)

I got another one of those telephone calls yesterday, which makes three (or is it four?) so far this week.  All from the same company.  The person on the other end asks for me by name, and then introduced himself or herself by name and says (s)he is from Consumer (something) - doing research with a questionnaire that will take a couple of minutes.  Why is it that these calls always come at an inconvenient moment?  Not that I have any intention of answering their questions anyway.

We do have caller identification on our phone but that is of no use if the caller is using an ex-directory phone (like my brother) or if the call comes from abroad when the ID reads "International call.  Number unavailable".  We subscribe to the Telephone Preference Service which means that we get very, very few cold sales calls from English-based companies but that doesn't work with people calling from overseas.  And companies have learned to get round that by not selling but simply carrying out research or a survey.

There was a time when we got so infuriated by these wretched calls that we decided not to answer any international calls.  As luck would have it, I forgot and did answer the next one - and it was from Sue, the lady who looks after our French house.  So we started answering those calls again.

But those Consumer something people are a blooming nuisance!

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We' ve still got ice rather than snow although down in the valley most of it has gone.  The Downs look white still.  Pity the sky is such a dull grey.


1 comment:

Suldog said...

Since becoming unemployed, I have also found out just how often we receive calls during the day from people trying to sell us something. I'll race to the phone when I hear it ringing, hoping it is something to do with a job, and be met with, "Hello! Is this Mr. Sullivan?", which automatically means it is a salesman since everybody I want to talk to calls me either "Jim" or "Sully".