Posted by: JDM..... | January 27, 2012

Hello!….This is Rachel from Card Holders Services…….

Please press two to kiss my ass….

Like Popeye, my toddlerhood hero, I finally blurted out “That’s all I can stands and I can’t stand no more…!”

From the day we moved into our current residence in 2006 right up until this noon, “Rachel” has been calling to get my attention by alluding to impending disaster around my credit card account, followed by secondary assurances that there is nothing wrong with my credit card but that time is running out for me to take advantage of some undisclosed low rate deal to refinance my balance or something like that. Rachel, of course, is a recording.

Same old shtick: press “one” to talk to a “live operator”, etc. I almost always press “three” to indicate I want no further calls. I don’t think that one works on Rachel’s end of the line. On a half dozen or so occasions, I have pressed “one” to firmly state that my phone number is registered on the “Do Not Call” list. Usually they just hang up. They won’t even listen, probably because the organization they work for, or maybe “Rachel” herself, knows that FCC rules require them to desist if they are asked to. Yet, the calls also seem to come in from different numbers, so I imagine “Rachel” has some sort rotating menu of accounts to call from just to confuse the issue. Obviously, this is not a reputable, legitimate business. If one doesn’t realize that by the time” Rachel finishes saying “Hello…” during the very first phone call…..

Today, leaving my half made sandwich on the kitchen counter, I pressed “one”, and waited.

I don’t recall the stooge’s name, but it certainly wasn’t “Rachel” and he sported a heavy accent. He greeted me and did the obligatory “…how are you?” bit, although I seriously doubt that he gave a northbound rat’s south end.

I ignored the query and slowly, firmly, and in my best boot camp belly voice stated that mine is a “Do Not Call” number, that I demand the calls stop, and that the FCC would be notified otherwise.

Rachel with Testicles ignored my controlled rant and began his spiel, so I repeated my demand again, but a tad louder. I wonder why we do that….talk louder when someone pisses us off. It’s not like they didn’t hear. They just don’t give a toot.

Rachel with Testicles interrupted me. “Wait wait wait,” he said, “lemme just speak with you for a ……”

That’s when Popeye occurred. I’d certainly had all I could stand and I wasn’t in the mood to quibble about it.

“Listen!” I bellowed, with a resonance that would make any man in a Smokey the Bear hat leaning at a 45 degree angle and barking orders from his bowels proud.

I roared again over the persistent yammering of Rachel with Testicles.
…..“Listen up…!!!”

That’s when I took off the gloves and transitioned from Manly and Assertive to Adolescent with Switchblade. I said some things that were most likely illegal, but absolutely offensive beyond my wildest dreams. I heard the dead silence on the other end of the line as snow avalanched from both sides of my roof and the cats clamored up the stairs to their secret hiding place under the bed. I hung up.

This time I wrote down the number and will be trying to negotiate my way through the bureaucratic minefield to register a complaint. In the meantime, if “Rachel”, with or without testicles, calls me again, Mister Nice Guy is “off duty”.

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Responses

  1. I LOVE IT! This is one area that I wouldn’t mind some big government regulation. And don’t get me started on the junk mail solicitations that have piled up around my house and have burned up two shredders!


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