Dodging pesky calls

Most telemarketing callers will sell a beehive without letting you see the bees.

We have all been subjected to pesky calls. The callers are expert at product sale. They will sell you a beehive without letting you see the bees.  

“Is it a good time to talk to you sir?” is the usual start. Even before you can respond, they start their monologue. They say their scripted part without pausing for breath. They do not want to risk a “No, thank you.” The eulogy of their proposal makes you feel you have been missing something great in life so far. A six-star holiday resort, a loaded bank card, etc.  

Some start with massaging your ego by telling you that your number has been specially selected out of several thousands. The way they can convincingly tell lies, one wonders if some of them should not do well as our diplomats. Not all callers are circumspect, though. There was this male voice the other day. “Would you like your Honda car in petrol or diesel sir?” he said even before I could say ‘hello’. I was so impressed, I could have taken one of either but for the money problem. “No thank you, I am fine with my Alto,” I said, adding self-consolingly, “The traffic is so heavy a small car moves faster.”

Unlike my wife, who gets irritated, I have come to accept the reality resignedly and retain my calm. In fact, I can’t say I don’t enjoy some of these exchanges. I had purchased an insurance policy some years ago. After paying three annual installments I decided to discontinue it. That started a pestering campaign, almost on daily basis.

“This is to remind you, sir, that your installment is overdue by a month,” a sweet voice said. I must have taken a few seconds to answer in which she interjected, “Don’t worry sir the company has a grace period policy and you can still pay without any surcharge.” Further, without allowing me time, just like some of our TV anchors, she went on. “When can I send our official to collect the cheque, sir?”

“Actually...” I said, pausing to clear my throat. But time is what she did not want to allow me. “If you have any problem, sir, the company has a policy of accepting split payments with no penalty.” On getting a break, I got out of it by pretending to be busy in a meeting.

Next day it was a different voice. “Actually,” I said playing it straight, “I have decided to discontinue the policy.” “Why sir?” There was a pretence of surprise from her side. “Personal reasons,” I said with a tone of finality. “May I know the reason, sir?” she persisted. “This will help us in framing our company policy.” I hesitated and she utilised the silence. “You know the benefits of an insurance policy, sir. Apart from the savings, it also covers the risk.”

From my days in the Army I have acquired a kind of blunt straightforwardness. “I know what you mean. But it is of little concern to me who gets the money after I go.” “Sir, your family responsibility...” she said matronly. I promised to reconsider and call back.

A senior sounding male voice called on the morrow. “I understand you have decided to discontinue you policy, sir. For our own purposes of improving customer service, could you tell us the reason why you wish to discontinue?” I had prepared myself this time. “Actually, I have decided not to die,” I said, suppressing a chuckle.

I thought I had him by the jugular. I really wished we were on the video phone and I could see his expression on being stumped for an answer. I smiled victoriously. There was a pause for some 10 seconds, though it looked longer. Then he spoke in an emotionless voice, flat as a billiard table. “That is fine, sir. But should you decide to change your mind, do not hesitate to revert to us.” I was relieved we were not on a video call.