OK, OK, I'll admit it. I'm the person everyone loves to hate. I'm a telemarketer.
It's not like I set out for a career in annoying people. But I really needed a job to help pay for my tuition and, well, the money was too good to pass up. So I was willing to put up with the abuse just to make some cash. Unfortunately, I guess I'm not much of a salesperson, because at the end of my second week on the job I still had exactly zero sales. As I strode into work on Friday morning, I'm sure Mr. Hersh was well aware of that fact, too. He gave me a dirty look as I walked past and settled into my cubicle. I knew I had to make a sale, and make it fast, or my days as a telemarketer were numbered.
I slipped my headset on and logged onto the computer to start the day's calls. The first half-hour was pretty much the same -- hang-ups, cursing, name-calling -- until about my thirtieth call.
"Hello, Mr. Stevens? This is Amy from SaveAmerica and I--"
"Ah, just the person I wanted to talk too! Hang on a sec'."
I had never been put on hold by a prospect, but it was a refreshing change from the usual hang-ups. I peeked over my shoulder at Mr. Hersh, who was still eyeballing me.
"OK, who did you say you were?"
"This is Amy from SaveAmerica and I--"
"You have a sexy voice, Amy."
I had to admit that he had a rather pleasant baritone, too. "Well, thank you sir. But I'm calling to talk about how we can save--"
"Are you wearing a bra?"
I was shocked, to say the least. "Pardon me?"
"A bra. Are you wearing one?"
I was sure that nothing in our handbook covered this type of conversation. But I needed a sale desperately, and if this is what it took... "Um, yes. But I'd really like to talk to you about the long-distance rates you're--"
"What color?"
"What?"
"Your bra. What color is it?"
"I...I...I'm not sure," I answered honestly. I woke up a little late and in my rush to get dressed I just grabbed whatever was on top of my underwear drawer.
"Well, take a peek. I'll wait."
This was getting a little weird. I eyed Mr. Hersh, who thankfully had his back toward me while talking with a co-worker. I lifted both hands to the collar of my t-shirt and took a quick peek while pretending to make a minor clothing adjustment.
"White."
"Nice. Innocent."
"Yes. Now about your long-distance rates--"
"Panties?"
"What?"
"Are you wearing panties?"
"Of course I am!" I whispered into the headset. "Now Mr. Stevens, I am not calling to talk about my underwear! I want to show you how to save money on your long-distance charges."
"Well, you're the one who initiated this phone call. You barged into my house and interrupted me. So I will set the tone of this conversation until you either sign me up or hang up on me."
He opened the door just a crack. He expressed a willingness to listen to my sales pitch, and then maybe even give me a sale! So I kept at it. "Alright, but I'm really not comfortable talking about--"
"What color?"
"What?"
"Your panties. What color are they?"
"I got dressed so fast this morning, I honestly don't remember."
"Take a peek."
"Mr. Stevens," I hissed. "I'm in a room full of people. I can't drop my pants to check on the color of my underwear."
"Sure you can. Or maybe I'll just hang up."
"Oohh," I grumbled as I scoped out the room. No one was paying any particular attention to me, so I casually laid my hand in my lap and slowly undid the zipper on my jeans.
"White! They're white too!" I quickly zipped back up.
