Confessions of a Telemarketer

You know me. I'm the one who calls you when you're trying to eat your fabulous family dinner. I'm the one who calls. And calls. And calls.

I never stop. You know me. And you hate me.

My name is Mary and I'm a telemarketer. You answer the phone expectantly, maybe hoping to hear from a lover, or perhaps it's good news about that new job for which you recently applied.

"May I please speak with Ms. Mandy Fraser?"

"This is Mandy!"

You sound so nice at first. I'm nice, too. I smile into my headset.

"Hi, Ms. Fraser! My name is Mary, and I'm a professional fundraiser calling--"

"What do you want?!"

It's not a question. You know what I want. You already hate me, and you don't even know me.

"Well, ma'am, I'm just calling on behalf of your nonprofit group-"

"Look. I don't accept telephone solicitation. You people call far too often."

The way you say "solicitation" makes my job sound so dirty.

That's the first thing you seem to forget. It's my job. I'm not calling you because I want to bother you. Believe me, I'd rather not call anyone. I'd rather sit back and relax.

Unfortunately, like most people in this country, I have to work. Maybe I'm an eighteen-year-old student trying desperately to get through college. Maybe I'm an incredibly intelligent woman with a Master's Degree, who just can't seem to find anything in this lousy economy.

Maybe I'm you, twenty years ago, and I wasn't lucky enough to snag a different course of life.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Fraser, I just wanted to thank you for your donation to our cause."

Wait a minute. Cause? That's right, I work for a nonprofit group-- one that I really love. That's why I started working here.

Realistically, most calls don't make it this far. I generally expect to be hung up on the second I identify myself. Believe me, I understand-- we all know how many calls you receive.

The thing I don't understand is why so many people yell and scream into the phone when they realize I don't know them personally. Maybe this isn't you. Hopefully this isn't you.

"Hi! May I please speak with Mrs. Koontz?"

"**** NO, you obnoxious piece of ****!"

Sadly, I'm not exaggerating.