There was a time, when I first starting working from home, that I could go all day without speaking to anyone. I used top, at that time, really enjoyed the distraction telemarketers provided, and I had a lot of fun with them (see below).

Nowadays, however, that thrill has long since passed. Luckily, I finally worked out, after about 150 telemarketing calls, how their software works.

Step-by-step, of how the software works:

  1. The software makes a billion random calls.
  2. Waits for an answer.
  3. Waits for a short response (e.g. “hello”) followed by a pause. If there is no pause, it has reached an answering machine, and hangs up.
  4. Wait for a second response/”hello” - If it never comes, they hang up.
  5. Wait for a second pause - If it never comes, they hang up.
  6. Connect an operator to what (they hope) is a person, e.g. YOU.

I have tested this, as best I can, by doing the following:
1. I just kept talking after I answered - hung up on.

2. I said “hello” - and nothing else - hung up on.

3. I said “hello”, paused, and then started talking non-stop (I used my goto poem, Kubla khan, who did, in Xanadu, a stately pleasure dome decree) - hung up on.

So if you have a problem with telemarketers, just do what I now do: say “hello”, and then resist any and all temptation to say another word. Resisting is quite hard to do, because the natural inclination is to assume that the person didn’t hear you, but it won’t affect real people, because they always end up saying “Hello, hello? Anyone there?” What you will find, though, is that you get hung up on a lot, and that your time spent dealing with these annoying telemarketers goes right down.

On a side note, I have had a lot of fun over the years with telemarketers, and I thought I would share a list of the things I have had the good fortune to say to them over the years.:

Telemarketer: Hello I…
Me: Hi, I would like to order a large ham and pineapple, a garlic bread, and a 1.25 litre of coke. Do you still have the $15.95 special on that?
T: Sorry?
M: Do you still have the pizza, coke and garlic bread special for $15.95?
T: You want a pizza?
M: Yep. Oh, have I called the wrong number again?
BEEP BEEP BEEP.

T: Hello I am from…
M (in a thick, bad Indian accent): Hello, I want to speak to telephone account holder.
T: Sorry? I am looking for…
M (getting really annoyed and loud): I. WANT. TO. TALK. TO. TELEPHONE. ACCOUNT. HOLDER.
T: Um, look, um… BEEP BEEP BEEP.

T: Can I speak to Michael Motherwell? (that’s me BTW)
M: You can if you have a Ouija Board, a glass, a few friends, a darkened room and a talent for summonning the dead.
T: Um, Ok, um, oh. Sorry.
M: That’s ok. You didn’t kill him, did you? I mean, the case is still open and marked as “suspicious”…

T: Can I speak to Michael Motherwell?
M: Oh (whimpering and sobbing slightly). He is in a critical condition in the hospital. They say he may never play the harmonica again.
T: Oh, um, oh, um, ok, um, bye. (No one ever cares about the survivors).

T (in thick Indian accent): Can I speak to Michael Motherwell?
M: Speaking.
T: How are you today sir?
Me (whimpering slightly): I have just been diagnosed with terminal cancer and I am feeling really freaked out and alone.
A few seconds of odd breathing silence followed by… BEEP BEEP BEEP (They hung up on a dying man!!! The callous bastards!!!)